Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“NO!” Bam-Bam yelled.
“Shit, he heard me.”
“Shit, shit, shit!” Bam-Bam laughed. “Shit, I shit, you shit—”
“—we all shit,” Ivan grumbled. “For the record, I’m telling them that you taught him that word.”
“He says worse.” I shrugged. “All right, let’s get them fed and then put on a movie that will more than likely make both of us want to inflict violence on each other.”
Ivan sighed and held Walt close to his chest, then put him over his shoulder and started rubbing his back. “Yeah, yeah, I say we order pizza and then feed this little dude some yogurt.”
“GURT!” Walt yelled. “GURT!”
The amount of energy it took to even walk over to the fridge was not a good sign for the rest of the night, especially since it wasn’t even that late yet. “What’s their bedtime again?”
“Now,” Ivan groaned. “I think in like two hours.”
“Two hours of hell, awesome.”
“Well, you live with me, I’m pretty sure you can handle two kids.”
I slow clapped. “Wow, you finally compared yourself to a toddler and a baby, I’m so proud that you’re seeing what we’ve known all along. You’re a child.”
“A child, hmm?” Ivan set Walt in his highchair and clicked him in, then sauntered over to me.
Why? Why was he sauntering?
Why was he staring at my mouth, and why did I feel the need to grab a spoon or fork or towel—anything to put distance between us. “A child?”
“You said that already. I’ll kick you in the balls if you touch me, Ivan, seriously.” I tried to move out of the way, but he had me cornered, literally between the fridge and the counter.
Walt was no help at all; he was playing with his hands.
And Bam-Bam was selling fruit snacks to Barbie.
I was all alone with the devil staring me down. It would be so much easier if he wasn’t truly one of the most attractive guys I’d ever seen in real life—it would be easier if he wasn’t aware how good-looking he was on a regular basis.
When did his white t-shirt suddenly get so tight on his arms? And why were his biceps staring at me like that? Was he flexing? I backed up until my ass was pressed against the counter and gulped. “I’ll grab a knife.”
“Kinky.” He grinned and had the audacity to scrunch up his nose while biting down on his lower lip, sucking it in with that demon-like mouth. Both of his hands moved to either side of my body as he leaned in. “A child? Really?”
“Back off, Ivan.” In my head it sounded like a threat, but it came out all wrong, breathless, stupid. God, I hated him. “Seriously.” Even my seriously sounded weak.
“Mmm…” He tilted his head and leaned in, his lips touched my right ear while his left hand found my neck.
I didn’t shiver.
I mean, I did, but the AC was on, and it was cold in the kitchen.
His thumb rubbed down my neck, testing my pulse. “Do you want me to prove to you that I’m not a child, might make you into a woman finally, someone sure needs to do God’s work and pluck that sad little virginal flower.”
Hot tears burned the back of my eyes. “Ivan, don’t.”
I could play his games most days, but whenever he went there, I either got pissed or just hurt all over again. What girl would want a sexy guy like him taunting her, knowing that he’s doing it on purpose, knowing that he has the power, knowing that he’s somehow taking it from her by making her feel less than for not being a whore?
His mouth touched beneath my ear, just slightly, a faint breath followed. I wanted to push him away, but my hands were still at my sides.
I wanted to strangle him. Kick him.
Maim him?
“Just like I thought… almost… frigid to the touch.” He pulled back, still towering over me. “What? No words?”
I clenched my right hand into a fist and slammed it right into his windpipe. “None, and now you don’t have any either.”
He gasped for air and collapsed against the floor. “How about that yogurt, Walt?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“The women in this family are fierce, sometimes I prefer getting chastised by my dad—and he has a kill list a mile long, my mom however, deals with the devil, cross her and you’ll simply… cease to exist.” —King Campisi
Ivan
I decided the definition of hell was being attracted to Satan’s mistress, taunting her only to turn yourself on and then getting throat punched in front of your nephews only to be forced to clean up poop, a green substance that looks like slime but is probably some sort of poison one of the nephews conjured up because they were bored, oh and needing to take a shower because the substance just won’t wash off.
The kids were finally asleep.