Perfectly Toxic (Sterling Shore 9)

“Ah, he’s talking to his dick, apparently,” Kode—Why is Kode here?—says. “Been there. It sucks.”

I glare down the length of my body, seeing the douche who has the audacity to act amused right now with his pierced eyebrow arched at me. Kode is beside him, daring to look equally amused.

“What the hell are you two doing in my house?” I snap.

“It’s poker night,” Wren says. Where the hell did he come from?

I look over, and sure enough, Wren Prize is looking at me from across the room, a smirk on his lips like he’s enjoying the fact I look like a jackass right now.

I stumble up to my feet, cursing my pants as I pull them back up my legs. At least the damn hard-on is gone now.

“You really talking to your—”

“How did you assholes get in?” I ask, interrupting Rye before this gets any more awkward than it already is.

Isn’t this a reoccurring nightmare that people have? It will be now.

“We have the entry code to your door,” Tag says, walking in from the den.

What is this? Hell?

Yes it is. And it’s all her fault. Fucking toxic. That’s definitely what she is. Damn her for touching me the first time. Damn her for being in that hospital. Damn her for touching me again.

“I’ll be changing that code,” I growl.

“Anyone we know?” Kode drawls, ignoring my comment as they all follow me toward the den.

Definitely not telling them that.

“Let’s talk poker. Not girls,” I grumble.

“Dude, you were threatening your dick, so we need to hear about this girl,” Maverick—Are you fucking kidding me right now?—asks as I head toward the poker table, where’s he’s already sitting and grinning at me.

Apparently everyone is here and heard me cursing my dick. Awesome.

His phone chirps, and he bursts out laughing when he reads whatever text he’s gotten, which fortunately takes the attention off me.

“What?” Tag prompts, and Maverick types something in, then passes him the phone.

Tag just snorts and passes the phone along, and I watch as Kode reads it. He gives no expression, and I snatch it out of his hands.

Banana Girl: If you send me one more sphynx kitty picture, I’m going to lick your ass!

Maverick: Sounds kinky. Always wanted your tongue on my ass. Been a fantasy of mine for a while now.

The hell? Who is Banana Girl?

Before I can ask him questions, it chirps again, and I read the message like it’s my phone or something.

Banana Girl: KICK! I’m going to KICK your ass. You couldn’t pay me enough to lick your ass. Ewwww!

“Who the hell is that?” I ask when Wren tugs the phone from my hand, but I’ve got a bad feeling I already know. And it’s really going to piss me off if history is repeating itself.

“It’s Bella,” Maverick says around a laugh.

History is definitely repeating itself.

“What’s with the sphynx kitty pics she mentioned?” I ask, trying to sound only mildly interested, even though I’m clenching my fist under the poker table.