Page 41 of Venomous as a Snake

“You’re a six-foot-five Bangalorean superman clone,” I correct.

He grins down at me. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I couldn’t even tear through the plastic,” I complain. “It’s like… adult-proof or some shit.”

“It’s a mattress in a box, Kody,” he states, mildly amused. “Pretty sure they’re designed for only adults to open.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I wave him away. “Whatever. Downplay it all you want. I still need to start working out more.”

Ali scoffs. “You dance every day. For hours… That’s a workout. You don’t see me trying to touch my toes—”

“Because you can’t reach that far down,” I inform him. “That has nothing to do with flexibility or strength.”

“Are you hungry?”

I sigh as my stomach responds to his question. “Famished. Why?”

“Because you’re grumpy.”

“I think I want waffles,” I muse. “Too bad you have to go.”

“I’ve been here since yesterday,” he says through his chuckling. “Someone needs to make sure Drew doesn’t burn the house down. And I’ve got to go pick up a shipment.”

“Of?” I prompt.

Ali rolls his charcoal eyes. “Weapons.”

“Fun ones?”

“Aren’t they all?”

I smirk at him. “I’d love another grenade.”

“You’re not ordering drinks. I can’t just walk into the kitchen and—” He stops suddenly, narrowing his eyes at me. “Do you have a grenade in the kitchen?”

“No,” I reply, a smile creeping over my lips. “It’s in my bathroom.”

“Cute.”

“Thank you.”

He picks me up off the floor and stands me on my feet before kissing the top of my head. I trail behind him as we move downstairs, staring at his ass and the way his jeans hug him just right.

“Drew will be here in a couple of hours,” he murmurs over his shoulder.

“Huh? Oh. Yes, I know,” I grumble. “Babysitting duty split between the two of you—”

“Are you complaining?” he asks, his voice low and filled with gravel.

I snort. “Uhm, no. Well, I am sore, so maybe a little.”

“The box wasn’t that heav—oh. Cute,” he repeats, shaking his head.

“Text me when you get back,” I demand, pulling him down to my level so I can kiss his cheek.

“Later, Blondie.”

Ali heads toward the garage, and I go to the kitchen, pulling the small blue waffle maker from the cabinet beside my stove. I plug it in and sort out the ingredients for the batter, measuring just enough for four waffles.