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“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.
The parents were nowhere to be found, which meant we’d have to head back to campus in the morning and spend the night with two small ones we had no business being responsible for while also attempting not to kill each other.
Exhausted, I walked into the bathroom and padded across the heated, white-tiled floor. It was my favorite bathroom in the house, they even had a sauna next to it and an outdoor shower.
When Serena had it built, she straight up built the house around the massive bathroom saying it was her sanctuary, which I think pissed off Junior since he saw their bedroom as one, but whatever, I wasn’t even going to go there; I didn’t need more nightmares than I already had.
