Chapter 20
Mike
Ihad a hard time sleeping that night. I kept rolling over, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the evening.
The way Cash had opened up about his mother, about the ranch, about the life he’d lost. The vulnerability in his voice when he’d talked about those Saturday mornings riding fence with his father.
And then that moment when I’d touched his face, when he’d leaned into it like he was starving for gentle contact.
My body was still humming from being so close to him in the kitchen.
Every accidental brush of his fingers against mine, every time he’d moved past me in the small space, I’d felt that familiar heat building low in my belly.
But it was more than just physical attraction now.
Something deeper was taking root, something that scared the hell out of me.
I rolled onto my side, punching my pillow in frustration.
This was exactly what I’d been afraid of.
Getting attached to someone who’d made it crystal clear he was leaving.
Cash had his walls up for good reason, and I was an idiot for thinking I could be the one to tear them down.
Even when I knew some things couldn’t be changed, my heart just went ahead and filled itself with hope, anyway.
The house creaked around me, settling into the night.
I could hear the faint sound of Cash moving around in his room, restless as I was.
Part of me wanted to go to him, to offer comfort or just the warmth of another body.
But we’d set our boundaries that morning.
Just sex, nothing more. Getting up and going to his room after the night we’d had felt like crossing a line we’d both agreed not to cross.
Around three in the morning, I finally gave up on sleep and padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. The house was dark and quiet, moonlight streaming through the windows and casting everything in silver shadows. I was at the sink, filling my glass, when I heard his door open.
“Can’t sleep either?” Cash’s voice was rough with exhaustion.
I turned to find him standing in the doorway, shirtless and wearing only a pair of low-slung pajama pants. His hair was mussed from tossing and turning, and there were shadows under his eyes.
“No,” I admitted. “Too much on my mind.”
He moved into the kitchen, and I was acutely aware of how small the space felt with both of us in it. He opened the refrigerator, the light casting harsh angles across his face as he grabbed a beer.
“Nervous about tomorrow?” he asked, twisting off the cap.
“Among other things.”
He leaned against the counter, studying me with those dark eyes. “What other things?”
I took a sip of water, buying myself time. “Just… thinking about you I guess.”
The air between us crackled with tension. We stood there in the semi-darkness, neither of us moving, both of us fighting the pull that seemed to exist whenever we were in the same room.
“Mike,” he said softly, and my name on his lips sounded like a prayer.
“Don’t,” I said, stopping him from whatever placation he was going to try to feed me. “I just… I’ve got a lot on my mind is all.”
“Anythin’ I can do to help?” He stepped closer, his hand already on my waist. “To take your mind off things?”
My skin tingled where he touched me and I could already feel my cock thickening.
“Yeah,” I whispered, already leaning into his touch. “I think you can.”
His other hand found the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair as he pulled me closer. Our mouths crashed together, hungry and desperate, all the tension from dinner and thoughts of our fragile boundaries dissolving in an instant.
I pressed him back against the refrigerator, my hands roaming over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin under my palms. He groaned into my mouth, his hips grinding against mine, and I could feel how hard he was through the thin fabric of his pajama pants.
“Bedroom,” I gasped against his lips.
“No,” he growled, spinning us around so I was the one pinned against the cool metal door. “Right here. I want you right fuckin’ here.”
His mouth moved to my neck, teeth scraping against my pulse point as his hands worked at the waistband of my sleep pants. I bit back a moan, acutely aware that we were in the kitchen, that anyone could see through the windows, but I didn’t care. I needed him too much to care about anything else.
“Cash,” I breathed, my head falling back as he sucked a mark into the sensitive skin below my ear.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “About how you looked this morning, how you felt around my cock. Couldn’t get it out of my head.”
His words sent fire shooting straight to my groin. I fumbled with the drawstring of his pants, desperate to get my hands on him. When I finally freed his cock, he hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking forward into my grip.
“Fuck, Mike,” he groaned, bracing one hand against the refrigerator beside my head. “I love the way you touch me…”
I stroked him slowly, savoring the weight and heat of him in my palm. His eyes were dark with lust, fixed on mine like he was trying to memorize every detail of this moment. There was something almost reverent in the way he looked at me, like I was a piece of art to be savored.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice commanding but gentle.
I obeyed without hesitation, pressing my palms against the cool surface of the refrigerator. I heard him spit into his palm, felt his slick fingers probing at my entrance. I was still loose from this morning, still wanting, and he slipped inside easily.
“Damn,” he murmured appreciatively, working his fingers deeper. “You’re always so ready.”
I pushed back against his hand, seeking more friction, more pressure. He added a second finger, then a third, stretching me with practiced efficiency. When I was writhing against the refrigerator, desperate for more, he finally withdrew his fingers and positioned himself behind me.
The first press of his cock against my entrance made me whimper. He pushed in slowly, letting me adjust to the stretch, his breath hot against my shoulder blade.
“God, you feel incredible,” he groaned once he was fully seated inside me. “I could fuck this hole forever.”
He started to move then, slow and deep, his hands gripping my hips as he set a rhythm that had me seeing stars. Each thrust hit that spot inside me that made my knees go weak, and I had to brace myself harder against the refrigerator to keep from collapsing.
“Harder,” I gasped, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “Please, Cash, I need—”
He didn’t let me finish, slamming into me with a force that knocked the breath from my lungs. The sound of his heavy balls slapping against my ass filled the kitchen, obscene and perfect in this quiet house of God.
“This what you need?” he growled, one hand reaching around to wrap around my neglected cock. “This what’s been keepin’ you awake?”
“Yes,” I cried out, probably too loud but past caring. “Yes, fuck, just like that.”
He stroked me in time with his thrusts, rough and fast, pushing me toward the edge with ruthless efficiency. I could feel my orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly, and I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Cum for me,” Cash commanded, his teeth sinking into my shoulder. “Want to feel you cum while I’m inside you.”
It was all the permission I needed. I came with a strangled cry, spilling over his hand and onto the kitchen floor as my body clenched around him. He followed seconds later, burying himself deep as he filled me with his release, his own cry muffled against my neck.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us panting, his body draped over mine as we came down from the high. Eventually he pulled out, and I turned in his arms, both of us still catching our breath.
“Feel better?” he asked, a small smile playing at his lips.
“Much,” I admitted, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “Thank you, Cash.”
He gave me a soft, genuine smile. “Happy to oblige.”
We cleaned up in comfortable silence, stealing glances and small touches as we worked. When we were done, we stood there awkwardly for a moment, both of us suddenly aware that we were back to that strange territory between friendship and something more.
“I should get some sleep,” I said finally. “Big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, but made no move to leave. “Mike?”
“Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re gonna do great tomorrow. That congregation’s lucky to have you.”
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. “Thank you. That... that means a lot.”
He nodded once, then headed back toward his room. I watched him go for a minute before heading back to my own.
As I settled back under the covers, I found my mind quieter now, my body finally relaxed enough for sleep.
The sermon I’d been worrying about all week suddenly felt less daunting.
Maybe it was the post-orgasmic haze, or maybe it was Cash’s unexpected vote of confidence, but I felt more prepared than I had in days.
I must have finally dozed off because the next thing I knew, my alarm was blaring and sunlight was streaming through the bedroom windows. Sunday morning. My first official sermon as pastor of Sagebrush Community Church.
My stomach immediately clenched with nerves as I rolled out of bed. I could hear Cash moving around in the kitchen, the familiar sounds of coffee brewing and cabinet doors opening and closing. The smell of bacon drifted down the hall, making my mouth water despite the anxiety churning in my gut.
I showered quickly and pulled on my best suit, a navy blue with a crisp white shirt and my favorite tie. Looking at myself in the mirror, I tried to summon the confidence I’d felt last night. I looked professional enough, respectable. Like someone a congregation might actually want to listen to.
When I made it to the kitchen, Cash was standing at the stove, fully dressed in clean jeans and a button-down shirt that looked like he’d actually ironed it. He glanced over his shoulder as I entered.
“Mornin’,” he said, turning back to the pan. “Made you breakfast. Figured you might be too nervous to eat, but you should try.”
I stared at him, surprised by the gesture. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” He slid eggs and bacon onto a plate, then set it on the counter with a cup of coffee. “But I wanted to.”
I sat down at the counter, touched by his thoughtfulness even as my nerves made it hard to appreciate the food. “Thank you. This is... really sweet of you.”
Cash shrugged, but I caught the slight pink tinge to his cheeks. “Don’t read too much into it. It’s just eggs.”
But it wasn’t just eggs, and there’s no way he didn’t know that too. This was Cash taking care of me in his own quiet way, and it made my chest flutter with an emotion I wasn’t supposed to be feeling.
I managed to eat about half the plate before my stomach rebelled completely. Cash watched me push the food around, his brow furrowed with something that looked almost like concern.
“You’re gonna be fine,” he said quietly. “Better than fine. You’re gonna be great.”
“What if I forget everything I wanted to say? What if they hate it? What if—”
“Mike.” He stepped closer, his hand finding my shoulder. “Breathe. It’s just Sagebrush. And this is what you were meant to do, right?”
I looked up at him, struck again by how different he could be when his walls came down, if only for a moment. This wasn’t the angry, defensive man who’d shown up on my doorstep three weeks ago. This was someone gentler, someone who actually cared about my wellbeing.
“Will you...” I started, then stopped, shaking my head. “Never mind. Stupid question.”
“What?”
“Will you be there? At the service?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I know you said you don’t do church, and I’m not trying to push religion on you or anything. I just thought maybe—”
“Yeah,” he said, cutting off my rambling. “I’ll be there.”
I blinked at him in surprise. “Really?”
“Really.” He squeezed my shoulder gently. “Somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t pass out up there.”
The smile that broke across my face was so wide it actually hurt my cheeks. “Cash, I—”
“Don’t make it weird,” he said quickly, but his own mouth was twitching like he was fighting a smile. “Just... go knock ‘em dead, preacher.”