Page 46 of Vile Bastards
He releases me again, and then skirts past me so that I can’t touch him.
“My mind is a fucking mess today,” Widow offers before pausing at the hood of his ‘Vette. He turns back toward me, and then sits down on it. The car creaks under his weight, and I can’t resist recalling the memory of Ash screwing me on the hood of his Fastback (RIP). Also, I’d like Widow to screw me on the hood of his Stingray. That, too.
“You’re punishing yourself for being human.” The look he gives me there is simultaneously cocky and disdainful. Add in the constant declarations of love, romance, marriage, and children, and he’s practically insufferable. “You’re lucky you turned out pretty, boy.” I click my tongue and offer him a dismissive once-over. “Cock on a stick. Maybe it’s best if you just don’t talk?”
I hold up a hand, palm out, and he snorts out a laugh.
“Punishing myself for being human? None of the fantasies I’m entertaining right now are even remotely human. At best, I’m a beast.” He crosses his arms obstinately, like that’s the end of the conversation, and I hear footsteps behind me.
Bohnes.
You only hear his footsteps if he wants you to in which case, they’re very purposeful. He strides with intent, and then he’s tickling his fingers along the back of my neck. I shiver and close my eyes, wetting my lips before I crack my lids and cast a sideways glance at him.
“What are you two out here gossiping about?” he asks with just a dash of insanity. He tucks his hands into his pockets, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. “Hopefully you’re not breaking up?” I’ve never heard Bohnes sound so eager.
“Widow thinks he’s a beast because he wants to do it doggy style or something,” I tell Bohnes, and Widow curls his lip at me.
“Is that what I said?” he grinds out, but I just shrug and Bohnes snickers.
“I’m paraphrasing, but that’s pretty much what he said.” I glance over at Bohnes, and he turns back to Widow with the most serious expression I’ve ever seen on his face.
“I want to eat her alive. Is that bestial enough for you? I’ve already asked if we couldn’t be buried in the same coffin. If we’re ghosts, we’ll haunt together.”
“You’re so goddamn creepy,” Widow whispers, putting his fingers up to his forehead. “Yeah, no, none of that.”
“Then what?” Bohnes queries, and I look back at Widow with both brows raised.
“Well?” I ask, and he laughs at us like we’re stupid.
“I’m not talking about this shit in front of him.” Widow adjusts himself and the car creaks again.
“He thinks he’s deep, doesn’t he?” Bohnes asks, studying Widow as if that was a serious question and not just a barb meant to itch and burn.
“I am so done with you ragging on me,” Widow murmurs, and then he stands up suddenly, and the two of them are staring at each other eye to eye. They’re around the same height, similar builds, tragic pasts. Who would win in a fight? I’d hate to find out. I don’t ever want to find out. “Let’s race on it. I win, you leave me the fuck alone.”
“Yeah, but if I win? There’s nothing I want from you.” Bohnes laughs and waves his hand breezily. “Even so, when I did inevitably win, what guarantee would I have that you’d actually follow through with your promise? You don’t seem to care about the sanctity of Prescott race culture.”
Widow shudders all over, squeezes his hands into fists, and then grinds his teeth.
He exhales, and I see that he’s expending enormous effort to stay calm. If I were him, I’m not sure I could do it. If I really think about it, it’s a good thing that Widow fucked up with Bohnes. He knows he was in the wrong and has to make up for it.
Otherwise, I don’t think he’d try to control his temper whatsoever.
“We’ll discuss this on our date,” he snaps, but then Bohnes raises a single finger.
“You won’t be going on a date until she goes on one with me first.” Bohnes turns to me, and I go very, very still. His eyes are impossibly bright, so much so that they seem to glow within the shadows of his hood. “While we’re on the subject, clear your calendar tomorrow. I’m taking you out.”
The command irks me, but I owe him. I owe him a million dates, if you really think about it. I’ve sort of decided to just let Bohnes follow me around for the rest of my life, but I’m nowhere near ready to admit that to him.
He puts his hand on the side of my face and then leans in, running his tongue along the seam of my lips, but pulling back just short of actually kissing me.
