snarled.
Reeve glared at Ephraim and opened his mouth to say something, but Thatcher cut in.
"She wouldn't take up with Reeve , you dunce! He came after her! She really wants me!" he insisted adamantly, hand to his chest, said chest puffed up.
"Quit calling me a dunce, you dunce!" Ephraim warned, thrusting a finger out at his brother, eyes narrowed, chin jutting forward.
"Why not? You are?!" Thatcher shot back childishly, arms crossed over his chest defiantly, smirking now.
Oh, my god, this is like third grade around here sometimes!
I swear!
"Thatcher Harrison, I've told you once and I will tell you again! Not even if you were the last man on this planet or the next, and if you call your brother a dunce one more time, I swear I will make good on my promise to tie you down and Nair you from stem to sternum!" I bellowed over them both.
The man on top of me relaxed visibly when he realized how well I was acquainted with the guys.
Acting fast, I kneed him in the groin and used his distraction to muscle him off of me.
He cupped his balls and doubled over, wincing as he grunted in pain.
I hopped up, straightening my night gown as I backed up, trying to put enough space between us.
"What the hell were you trying to do to her, Reeve?" Bowen grumbled, his disapproval and displeasure evident in his voice as he really got a good look at us, Reeve with his pants swimming around his ankles, a giant wet patch the length of Reeve’s body plastering my nightgown unbecomingly to my ample, plushier person.
Wet nightgown contestant in the making- I think not.
"I wasn't going to do anything! That crazy bitch attacked me!"
My jaw dropped and I stopped trying to pluck my dampened nightgown away from my chest as I frowned down it, willing the thin material to stop showing so much of me in such an unflattering way, my head shooting up as I glared at him.
What!
The nerve oh him!
"You son of a bitch!" I shrieked, "Call me a bitch again and I'll show you a real beating!"
Incensed, I ran over and picked up the rug beater, ready to rearrange his face a little for him.
Oh! That scar across his face will be the least of his worries when I'm done with him!
"I came home and she started calling me a pervert, telling me to get the hell out of my own home!" he groused as he continued to cup his injured parts.
Frozen in place at that announcement, my hands fell to my sides, the rug beater held loosely in my grasp.
Shit.
Well, fuck me...
He's a Harrison too?
He lives here?
Aw, shit, there's more of them?!
Why the heck didn't anyone tell me?
My hand tightened reflexively on the handle of my new favorite self-defense-go-to again and I stiffened.
What am I saying? Of course they didn't tell me!
He's probably the looniest in the bin!
"You were taking your pants off!" I said defensively, waving the beater at him a little, "and you didn't exactly give me the impression that you lived here, you know. I thought you were a thief or something with the way that you snuck in here and everything in the middle of the night."
"I wasn't exactly quiet about it, now was I?" he snapped, sneering with a curl of his lip, massaging his groin.
The action kept drawing my attention to his junk and I fidgeted awkwardly.
"Can you do that later? It's weird and, uh, kinda creepy, dude." Grimacing, I gestured at his privates.
He growled at me as if to shut me up, muffling a groan when he shifted.
"You're rubbing your testicles in front of me," I informed him primly, going for a momm-ish tone.
There. Maybe that will embarrass him into shutting up.
"Don't like it, pin cushion , then get the hell out!" he barked at me angrily, trying to get up. "A burglar," he muttered under his breath, scoffing, "you have got to be fucking kidding me."
"Yeah, well... how was I supposed to know that?! You could have been a really shitty burglar or something! They do exist, ya know! And screw you, asshole!" I snapped right back.
"Whoa! Whoa! Let's all talk about this for a