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I shrug. “Just a hunch I have about you, Preach. You don’t like complications.”
“Who does,” he asks absently, but I’m not deterred.
“You’re a man who counseled other soldiers through the worst, most terrifying times in their lives just to receive some karmic balance in the universe. Despite the ambiguity of your religious beliefs, you are a man who likes things straightforward. Uncomplicated.”
“Wow. You got a crystal ball hidden somewhere?”
“Nah, too woo-woo for me, but if you spend enough time around different types of people, you learn to read them.” It’s kind of my superpower. “I’m not perfect at it. I mean, I didn’t realize that Frank had a fucking wife at home. Or that he was a straight-up crook, instead of just a religious crook who kept me supplied in blow and anything else I wanted.”
Preacher lets out another loud laugh. “You really have a problem with religion, don’t you?”
“Not at all. Believe what you want to believe, and I’ll do the same. What I have a problem with is liars and hypocrites. And a lot of church people are hypocrites. I’d rather just stay away from people like that, and it’s hard to tell who’s who inside the churches these days.”
“Wow.”
I frown at his unreadable expression. “What?”
“You are as cynical as you are beautiful.”
“Thanks?”
Preacher laughs and shakes his head, and goosebumps skitter across my skin. He has a great laugh. It’s rich and thick and sounds like he uses it often.
“I mean it. All of it.”
“I’m not cynical,” I assure him, ignoring the warmth that spreads through my body at his compliment. “I’m pragmatic. I don’t believe bullshit, and the more someone tries to convince me of their bullshit, the more curious I am about what they’re really hiding.”
Preacher looks away, and I wonder what he’s hiding behind that good guy, overprotective persona that seems to fit him like a glove. Is he a hypocrite, too? I can’t help but wonder.
"Gia, I'm not perfect," he finally says. "I know that. But I try to live my life in a way that is honorable and just. I’d never intentionally hurt you."
"Is that why you're a biker? Because you're honorable?" I snort-laugh. "Please."
"No," he says, his voice serious. "I'm a biker because I love the freedom of the open road. It's exhilarating."
"And dangerous," I add.
He nods. "Yes, it can be. But I'm careful."
"I bet," I say.
"It's not for everyone," Preacher says. "But it works for me."
I want to believe him. I really do. But I've been burned before. I'm not sure I can trust my heart to someone who might turn out to be just like all the others.
Only time will reveal if that’s really him or the mask he wears for the world or for tough chicks like me.
I sure hope it’s the former and not the latter.
Chapter Twenty
Preacher
The bathroom is full of steam, and my muscles are loose and relaxed as I step from the shower, feeling good and well-rested despite the insatiable woman still lounging in my bed. After drying off, I step out of the bathroom and find Gia relaxing on her elbows, tits staring at me with deliciously hard nipples, legs open just enough for the light to catch the glistening between her thighs.
“Hey, hot stuff.” She purrs the words, a sultry smile on her face as she licks her lips. Her eyes take in every inch of me, making my cock grow behind the towel.
“Nope,” I shake my head. “Time for Church, and I can’t be late.” I’m never late for Church, not ever, and definitely not now when there’s so much going on. “Put some clothes on.”
