Page 15 of Hate to Love You
“Shit! What the fuck did you do, Tate?” Pasha shouts, nervously.
“I don’t know, man! I think I burned some milk on the glass top! Shit! What do I do?”
Beep! Beep! Beeeeep!
“How the fuck should I know?!” Pasha hisses back at him.
“Is Roman still sleeping?”
“Not anymore, dude!” Pasha snorts. “He’s going to fucking kill you!”
I groan.
Not only did I just get yanked out of an illusionary romp with the woman I’ve affectionately deemed “The Brunette,” I’m now being yanked out of my bed.
By a fucking idiot.
And given that Pasha just referred to “Tate,” that also now means that I have to go deal with not one, but two fucking idiots in my penthouse.
Beep! Beep! Beeeeep!
God damn it, Pasha.
I quickly pull up the software app on my phone for the home fire alarm, and silence it, before throwing off the covers. I storm out of the bedroom and down the hallway as the last round of beeps sound before abruptly shutting off.
“What the fuck is going on in here?!” I thunder making idiots one and two jump to attention. “What the fuck have you shitheads done now?”
“S…sorry, Boss!” Tate, who is furiously scrubbing chemicals on my glass top stove and who is the blond haired, blue-eyed, non-Antonov version of my little brother, says nervously. “I brought your dog back from the groomer, and I was trying to steam the milk for Pasha’s coffee, you know since he’s injured and—”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you were trying to do, you fucking imbecile!” I hiss, nearly slipping in all the water he’s dumped on the smoking stove. “Go to the fucking coffee shop!”
Suddenly, I hear Pasha chuckling, seated at the table beside me.
“Something funny, little brother?” I say, turning to glare at him.
“Good dream?” Pasha asks.
“Yes, actually,” I seethe between gritted teeth.
“I can tell,” he snorts.
“Excuse me?” I hiss.
But somehow this just makes him laugh harder.
“Bro,” he finally says between his chuckling, holding up his hand and averting his eyes. “You’re still half-mast, my man.”
That’s when I look down and see that I do in fact, still have a raging erection from the dream these two cumstains interrupted.
Shit.
“Yeah, well take a good look,” I say, grabbing my crotch and kicking Pasha’s kitchen chair hard, causing him to wince in pain. “Half-mast for me is more than you have on your best day, fucker.”
Pasha submissively raises his hands in the air, but still can’t hide the smirk on his face. If he were anyone else, I’d have beaten it off of him.
He’s lucky he’s my brother.
“Now,” I growl, turning back to Tate and the counter, pointing between the two of them. “I don’t care how long it takes, but you two are going to clean up this mess and get the fuck out of my sight.”