I used to get pissed off listening to Mateo and Evie fuck like it was their last day on earth. Now, it has an entirely different effect. I am sitting at the dining room table, sipping coffee, hard as a fucking rock. But I am still worried about the asshole’s stitches. “I’m fucked in the head,” I mutter to myself, scrolling through my phone. “Are you talking to yourself?” Van asks dryly, sitting at the other end. “Seems that way,” I answer, then grin. “Bernard.” “I will kick your ass all over this fucking house,” Van threatens, making me laugh. “Then I’m kicking Mateo’s.” “It could be worse,”
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