Page 57 of The Knot Before Christmas

“Oh that's gross.” I scoff. “He’s your brother.”

“Sharing is caring,” is all Ian says.

These men. These fucking men.

Nick waddles us over to the living room and sits down on the couch.

I huff and lean back. “So what, we just sit here until it goes down?”

“Trust me, Joyrider, I don’t like it anymore than you do.”

“If you would have just listened to me when I told you not to knot me, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” I cross my arms and glare at him.

“And if you would have just listened and taken my cock like the slut we all know you are, and not fight me on it, we could be knotted downstairs right now.”

“Fuck you.” I flip him off.

“You already did.” He grins.

“I hate you,” I snarl in his face before spitting, again.God, Nova. When will you learn?

My heart stops as I wait for him to react.

He closes his eyes, breathing through his nose as he wipes the spit off.

A hand grabs a chunk of my hair and yanks my head back as he leans forward, getting in my face. “And I fucking hate you right back,” he snarls.

Then he shoves me off of him, forcing me off his knot and tossing me onto the couch. It hurts, and I hate that he makes me whimper.

Cum and slick gushes out of me and onto the couch as I scramble to sit up.

Nick stands, grabs his pants and yanks them up over his ass.

“Thanks for the fuck.” He grins down at me. “But if you spit in my face one more time, I’ll make what just happened look like child's play.”

My chest heaves with white hot anger as he turns his back to me and heads toward the stairs.

I grab the TV remote and get to my feet, throwing it at him. I try to aim it at his head, but it misses, hitting the wall next to him. He stops, turns to look at me and with that stupid grin, he winks at me before jogging up the stairs.

I scream. I scream so loud and long that I feel like I’m going to explode.

But it’s needed and when I’m done, I feel tired and drained. I just want to shower, eat, and sleep.

“Come on,” Ian says, scooping me up bridal style into his arms. Not even caring about the mess between my legs. “I got you, Little Doe. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I hate him,” I whimper.

“I know.” He kisses the top of my head. “But you won’t always.”

I want to tell him I will. That I could never like Nick.

But it would be a lie. Because I liked every single thing he did to me up until a few moments ago.

I’m confused with myself, my feelings. I don’t know how to process all these emotions.

I want to hate him, but my body wants him. I want him gone, but the idea of being away from him makes me sick.

I want to cry. And I hate crying.

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