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

Chapter 55- Callie

His Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows and I just about melt. Something about the motion is so sensual and I go for it. I lean forward and press my lips first to his thumb and nibble on the tip as he hisses a breath.

A blink and I'm pulled over the divider to half straddle his lap. With his thighs built like tree trunks, this is the best position I can get into as he devours me like a man starved. Despite his rushed hands and desperate need, he cradles my face in his hands as his mouth explores mine. He tastes bitter sweet, like coffee and something herby that tickles my nose with familiarity.

I'm drowning in his touch and going freely, wondering how long I can go without air and weighing its necessity against even a second apart from this version of the man that may not despise me like I had thought.

Alas, my body protests and I lean back to catch my breath accidentally bumping the horn. The jarring sound makes me jump and I see the moment Rave comes to his senses. His eyes dim and his face erases all signs of passion that had lined it only a second ago. He stares at me like I'm less than the oil on the concrete.

"Did I read this wrong?" I ask, my fingers pointing between the two of us. Already I'm working my way off of him and back into my seat. This was stupid. Stupid and impulsive. Of course, he doesn't want me like that.

"No Princess, you didn't."

"Then what's wrong?"

His hands band around my waist, tightening their hold, and restricting my retreat. "You ever want something you know you have no business wanting?" He asks wistfully, tucking a stray hair behind my hair.

"Are we talking chocolate cake for breakfast level or bank robbery to wipe the haughty expression off of your evil boss' face level? Because I can tell you from experience, the first is definitely worth it. The second I'm still debating."

My hands have a mind of their own, running along Rave's at my waist. Thick, corded muscles hold me like I'm something precious. A stark contrast to the way he usually cuts me with his words and even the look on his face. He's a tornado of a man and I never know which way the winds will blow. His responding smile really does something to transform his face. It tickles something in my brain, an itch that I can just about reach before it shifts further away.

"You are worth infinitely more than a chocolate cake, Princess." The words barely leave his lips before they brush against mine. Feather like in softness, this kiss. I'm not quite sure what I was expecting. Okay, maybe I expected it to be harsh and demanding like the man himself. He's surprisingly sweet. It's buried deep, like six feet beneath his rocky exterior, but it's there. Just got to be willing to work for it.

"Can you do me a favor?" I'm caught off guard at the randomness, but sure. I'll do anything to keep this version of Rave thawed.

"I forgot to grab an energy drink. I'll finish filling up the car if you can run in and grab it for me." He hands me a handful of bills and sends me off. "Should be enough there to get yourself a second drink if you want Callie."

I bounce on my feet back to the store, heading toward the back where the coolers are. Hope he wanted one of the standard choices because there are a ton and in a multitude of flavors. I think I've picked out a good one when I hear the sound of an engine turn over. I'm surprised that anyone one else even visits this place. Especially with road trip mecca a few miles down the road.

Something causes me to look out the window, that pesky gut feeling that for too long I ignored and look where that got me. Instead of some random motorist, it's Rave. The jeep is closed up and starting to drive off. Without me.

I drop the cans, their insides exploding around my feet, and run for the door. He's only just pulled out and is rounding the pumps so I know good and well he can both see and hear me as I scream at him, my heart cracking in my chest.

"Stop!" Nothing. "You're a fucking coward Rave! A coward!" I yell until my voice cracks.

He doesn't stop. He doesn't slow down. He drives off and leaves me with a few measly dollars and my heart split between his passenger seat and the bunker that I have no hope of being able to return to. The worst part is that I hate that I can't hate him for it.

He warned me so many times and I was blind to them all. I should have known when he called me Callie.

Stupid.

The walk back to the store feels like it takes an eternity. I'm numb and broken and everything in between. I just want to turn it off. I did it for three years. Floating through life in a state of survival. I can do it again. I push open the door to the gas station and apologize for the mess on autopilot, vaguely noting the attendant on the phone. Jaxon would've had a fit and already had it clean. Seeing the mess just makes me want to cry. It's silly how much of an affect those four men have had on me in such a short amount of time.

I go to grab myself another coffee and try not to think of the reason, but it's almost impossible. I'd rather suffer through bad coffee than thing of him and so I do, dousing it with so much sugar and powdered creamer it's the color of sand. Anything to erase the taste of his betrayal. The salt from my tears mixes with the drink and I ignore it, drinking it down to pad my stomach.

Nothing about this is right. The coffee is barely consumable, but I can't bring myself to drink the other, knowing it'll make me think of that- asshole is the only fitting term. What's the use in minding my words like a lady when it's never helped me before? Perhaps some of my mother's wisdom was wrong. My neck itches from God's hands and the cotton turtleneck rubbing against it constantly isn't helping matters. I scratch at it for a moment before rolling back up. Last thing I need is someone noticing those bruises.

I don't blame the wary pitying look the attendants gives me as I pay for my drink and the cans I broke. I probably look a mess. Already I can see the picture I present. Dumped after a fight with my boyfriend and emotional as all get out. It's like watching myself through a screen. I know that girl is me but if I just turn it off, the hurt can't touch me.

Drink in hand, I leave with only one bright spot in mind. Beaver nuggets. It's about seven miles away, but I have nothing left but time. Time to formulate a plan. Alone with no phone and only a town name that I sort of recognize, I start to walk along the frontage road. Better shoes would have been a blessing, but it could always be worse. I could be in heels.

The walk is slow and chilly. Chilly I can deal with. I'll warm up with my coffee and the exercise. At least it's not summer. I might have to kill him then. As it stands, my legs have goosebumps and my body aches. I doubt it's from any of the walking. I can still see the gas station behind me, though it gets harder to see as the sun rises. The ache is all me. I don't know why I'm trying so hard. All life has down is toss me to the side, just like Rave. This should really just be the last sign I need, right?

Still, I try. Whether out of some deep sense of self preservation or guilt if I left my aunt alone, I don't know. Examining that too closely might leave me with some dark truths I'm not ready to acknowledge. Cars pass by every now and then and that's how I pass the time, guessing their story. Who they are and where they're going. The grey beat up sedan is a recent high school graduate on their way to work their retail job, which they hate, but it pays for their occasional trip down the Gulf where they imagine they're really in Florida on way cleaner beaches. The white minivan is carrying a family of five on their way back home from church where the middle child finally preformed their solo with the choir. Mom and Dad were so proud.

Not all my musings are bleak. I want to believe in a better life. It's just so freaking hard sometimes when I keep tripping over the stones in my path, this time literally as I bend down to get the loose gravel from my shoe.

Another car behind me and I make sure that I'm far on the shoulder. It slows. I tense and grip my Styrofoam cup tighter, careful to not puncture it and wishing it was still steaming hot. I see the lights flash red and blue behind me as all the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

"You look a little lost, Doll."