Heathens & Hand Grenades (Book 1 of the Heathens Duet)

Chapter 38- Callie

God behind my back is such a warm presence. Seriously, it's a bit hot. My skin is flushed and my hands, a lost cause to nervous sweat.

Lovely.

Pretty Boy ignores God's comment and begins working on a second rabbit, just as methodically as the first. I've never had rabbit. Can't help but imagine it hopping all innocent through the woods, but beggars can't be choosers.

"What's swirling around in that pretty head of yours," he whispers in my ear.

My thoughts are a secret I'll take with me to my grave, but if the smug smile in his voice is any indication, he is probably close with his guess. These men have awoken my sex drive from its slumber like a vampire needing to break their fast. It's in overdrive and I'm not sure if I can keep up.

Pretty Boy looks over with an arched brow as if telling me to behave.

Never. Besides, he seemed to like it when I fought back.

"Where did you learn to butcher like that," I ask, ignoring God's question.

Pretty Boy just winks and shakes his head at me, like an older sibling warning the youngest against misdeeds.

"That's one," I hear behind me.

"One what?"

"One warning," God explains. "The only one you'll get. I like my questions answered when I ask them Calista. Understood?"

Even without him raising his voice, the command is clear. I'm not sure what it says about me, if anything, but I love it. God doesn't play mind games. He's straight with me in everything he does. He may not push me to answer fully, but he does expect an answer. I can respect that.

"Yes," I mumble, thoroughly chastised. His raised brow has me hastily correcting myself. "Yes, sir," I say clearly.

His responding smile should come with a warning. It's unfair to unleash on anyone. "Good girl," he whispers. His voice doesn't whisper. I'm not sure it's capable. Instead it rumbles through me on a subliminal level, infecting me until I'm helpless to do anything but obey. It's a skill Colt could only dream of.

Jaxson looks over with a conspiratorial grin. Nothing good can come from it I'm sure. "I think we've concluded our game, don't you Pet?"

I nod quickly. Not sure there's any other way to respond. Demanding more secrets won't serve me well nor do I think he'll divulge any. Jaxson, Pretty Boy. The two names are so distinct in my head. Jaxson is intimate. A name in a nameless prison, a coconspirator. Pretty Boy is a jailer, holding tight onto the keys to my cell and not the least bit eager to unlock it.

God leads me back to the living room with a barely there hand at my lower back. Awareness floods me everywhere his fingers glance against my shirt.

"How are you at poker?"

I look around because surely, he's not talking to me. He is. "I know enough to know I don't know nearly enough," I answer honestly.

He huffs a small laugh and good lord, I can't be sure, but I think this man has a dimple. My weakness. "Want me to teach you?"

Something about the low and slow way the words slide from his throat leads me to think he's asking about more than poker. Added to the heavy set of his lids and I'm about eighty percent certain it's more than poker.

"What kind of poker?"

He tilts his head just so as he looks right into my eyes. "Texas Hold'em of course."