Page 28 of Start With A Slap

“Fine, forget that analogy. Answer me truthfully, how long do I have to wait before you find a new flavor of the month and leave us alone?”

“Why would I find a new flavor when I like yours so much?”

“My flavor is not yours to enjoy.” She pointed toward the balcony. “It’s his.”

He sat forward and said in English, “Give me one week, pet. Just one. I promise you, your flavor will be smeared all over my face.”

Her eyelids fluttered. “God. You’re a filthy pig.”

He chuckled, low and smug. Jason came inside then, but that didn’t stop Sever from continuing their conversation in French. “You’re even more tantalizing in French, you know that? Keep talking,ma tigresse; you’re making my dick hard.”

Tempering her reaction for Jason’s sake, she said in English, “Who wants dessert?”

“Let me think,” Sever mulled over the prospect.“Puis-je le manger sur ton petit trou du cul?”

She choked on her drink. His question: “Can I eat it off of your asshole?”

“You okay, babe?” Jason patted her on the back.

“Uh-huh,” she said, coughing. “Wrong pipe. Sorry about all the French. I know you hate it.”

“It’s more the place than the language.”

“How can anyone hate Paris?” Sever said.

Jason gave him a challenge of a gaze. “Bad memories.”

Ivy watched them, fearing a blow-up but also secretly rooting for it. He’d mentioned a terrible experience in Paris, but like most things involving his father, a mention was where it ended.

Sever scoffed. “You’ve got to stop being so sensitive.”

Shaking his head, Jason said, “Yeah. Right.”

Ivy changed the subject. “Anyway, you didn’t miss anything. We were talking about food.”

“Yes,” Sever said, “and our favorite spots to eat it.”

“Restaurants,” Ivy chirped, and added a glib, “He’s never been to In-N-Out Burger, can you believe?”

Jason snorted. “That’s a damn shame.”

“It looks good here,” Sever proclaimed, having moved into the living area to take inSunflower X. “Like it’s right where it belongs. Don’t you think so, Ivy?”

She wished he would go home already. “It would look just as good in a museum.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Jason said. “The other night, I caught her sitting out here, sniffling at it.”

“Did you, now?” He turned to her. “Ivy? Does the pretty painting make you cry?”

Mouth tight, she looked from one man to the other, restraining an urge to smack them both. “I was thinking of mymother.”

She turned on her heel, and Jason followed her to the bedroom to apologize. “I thought it was some kind of emotional art reaction,” he said. “I didn’t realize...”

“It’s all right. Just don’t tell him anything else about me, okay?”

“I’m sorry.” He kissed her forehead, hugged her close. “I’m an ass.”

His hugs were pure comfort. “No, you’re not.”

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