Barbie Btch (Rejects Paradise #3) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,62

and I'll have to tie you up for real.”

Charlie’s brows shoot up into his hairline. “Wait … why does it sound like you’ve done it before?” My eyes flick to Colton’s wide and panicked as I recall sneaking down from the library at 1 am this morning after finally putting my book down and having him do just that. “You have, haven’t you? Fuck, I didn’t realize I was in the midst of two kinky fuckers. Damnnnn.”

I bite down on my lip, desperately trying not to react. With a guy like Charlie, if you give him an inch, he won’t just take a mile, he’ll run with it until there’s nothing left to take. All while keeping that cheesy as fuck grin on his devastatingly handsome face.

Colton scoffs. “Please, I’ve heard your stories, man. Tying a chick up and fucking her until she screams is nothing new for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have a whole closet full of dirty little secrets.”

“Well, damn, Charlie. Maybe I’m with the wrong guy.”

Charlie laughs as Colton grabs me and slams me against the counter, keeping me pinned with his hard body. “Really?” he murmurs, looking at me with those mesmerizing eyes and sending the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive.

“I mean, um … what were we talking about again?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he tells me, easing up on my body and allowing just enough space to take my waist and lift me onto the counter. “You sit tight. I’m going to make you breakfast.”

My brows shoot up as Charlie scrunches his face in distaste. “Bro, come on, don’t be stupid. You can’t cook for shit. Know your limits and stay there. There’s no need to try and impress her with skills you don’t have.”

Colton ignores his friend and starts digging through the cupboards. “I didn’t say anything about cooking,” he says, pulling out a bowl and then showing off the wide range of cereals. He gives me a stupid grin and waves his hand in front of them. “Your wish is my command.”

I roll my eyes and jump down from the counter. “Get out of the way,” I tell him, barging my way into the pantry. “Let me make you guys a proper breakfast.”

“Fuck yeah,” Charlie grunts. “I knew there was a reason I came here.”

The boys fuck around, talking about who the hell knows what, and within twenty minutes, I’m serving up the best-looking bacon and egg rolls that I’ve ever seen. We’re just about to start digging in when I hear the familiar click of heels against marble and I prepare myself for the worst.

“Colton.” Comes a shrill call from outside the kitchen. “Where are you?”

Colton’s whole demeanor drops at the sound of his mother's call. “Kitchen,” he grumbles, his eyes flashing to mine with an apology, knowing damn well that every time we’re in a room together, it never turns out well. Though, hopefully, by now that cow has figured out that she can't beat me.

She comes striding into the kitchen, the clickity-clack of her heels already the most irritating thing I’ll hear all day. She looks to her son before glancing across to Charlie and then finally at me. Her face falls. “Oh, you’re here,” she spits. “Is the pool house I have supplied not efficient enough that you have to come and overtake my home? Sorry, my generosity is not up to your standards.”

“Mom,” Colton snaps. “Lay off. You’re embarrassing yourself with your shitty attitude. This is my fucking house and I’ll welcome whoever the hell I want into it. Besides, Ocean has more right to be here than you do. Now, what do you want? I have shit to get done.”

She rolls her eyes and reluctantly tears her glare away from me to focus on her annoyed son. “Ugh, I did not raise you like that.”

“Funny,” he grunts. “I don’t recall you raising me at all.”

She lets out an irritated huff and slams a credit card down onto the counter. “You need to put a call into your financial team. My card isn’t working.”

“I know.”

“You know?” she questions, standing straighter as Charlie and I flick our gazes between the two like some kind of intense tennis match.

Colton looks to me for a brief second as if to tell me to pay extra special attention. “Yeah, I know. I cut you off. I’m your eighteen-year-old son, I shouldn't be responsible for funding your extravagant lifestyle.”

My mouth drops and I find myself leaning in closer as