Read Online STROKED (The Stroked Series Book 1) by Meghan Quinn - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Meghan Quinn
Tags: General Fiction
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intimately? Did she feel the electricity starting to build between us as well? A spark so heavy, that if our lips connect, it will feel like the entire room will explode?
She glances up at me, her head tilted to the side. “I really am starving.”
“Good,” I say, leaning back again. “Remind me to tip that waitress heavily later on. She deserves it after dealing with Bellini’s crap.”
Chapter Six
**PAISLEY**
What the hell am I doing?
I am doing exactly what Jonathan told me not to do. I am slowly becoming attached, I am getting too close to Reese, and I’m dropping that professional façade I’m supposed to be wearing.
Hell, we just held hands.
HELD HANDS!
His thumb rubs across the top of my knuckles. Thank God I used lotion before coming here. He could have been faced with crocodile hands.
Shit, he keeps looking at me and not looking at me like a regular person looks at another regular person. No, his soulful hazel eyes speak volumes of what he wants to do with me. They search for approval, for validation in his profession, as if what I think of him actually matters.
His posture is relaxed, slouched in his chair, legs spread for a decent foundation, his knee occasionally bumping into mine under the table. His smile stretches naturally across his chiseled and scruffy face as he speaks of his workout routine and the swim practice he had this morning. His hair curls out from under the backwards baseball cap he’s wearing, giving him an almost boyish charm, but I know there is nothing boy about him.
Under those clothes, lies a six-foot-two man, wrapped in well-defined muscles and ink, a body sculpted to perfection by the smooth surface of water and many relentless hours in the weight room.
Everything about him exudes sex, from his bad boy image, to the tattoo running down his arm, to his confident swagger. His appearance is unforgiving and whenever he looks at me, his eyes are ravenous, hungry, ready to pounce.
And then there is Bellini. I am kind of shocked to see how Reese interacted with her, not really caring about her feelings. Their whole relationship is really odd, which makes me wonder, is that the kind of man Reese is? One who doesn’t seem to mind insulting his significant other?
It shouldn’t matter to me; I shouldn’t care what kind of boyfriend he is, or how he treats Bellini.
But there is a difference between the way he looks at me and the way he looks at her.
“Want to try some of my pancakes?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts and shifting his plate toward mine. “They lack in the sugar department since I try to avoid the substance as much as possible. I’ve found it much easier on my body to recover when I’m not loading it down with sugar. But they are still really good pancakes.”
“Sure,” I respond, shrugging my shoulders and sweating just slightly from the recent camaraderie between us.
With my fork, I cut a triangle of pancake off his plate, douse it in some sugar-free syrup, and place the bite in my mouth. Flavors of banana and syrup flood my mouth.
“These are so good,” I say, covering my mouth with my hand so he doesn’t see the half mutilated food rolling around.
“Told you.” He winks, right before reaching over to my plate and taking his own bite without permission.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
Mid cut into my breakfast, his face rings shock. “What? I don’t get to try yours? That doesn’t seem fair.”
“You should ask before you go and reach over to grab a hungry girl’s food. I wasn’t kidding when I said I like to eat.”
“Apparently.” He laughs. His face turns sincere, and he relaxes his arm on the table, waiting for me to give him permission. “Paisley, may I please have a bite of your French toast? It will only be a little one.”
“Because you asked politely.” I gesture for him to take a bite.
What I think is going to be a little corner of my French toast, turns into a huge square, and before I can
She glances up at me, her head tilted to the side. “I really am starving.”
“Good,” I say, leaning back again. “Remind me to tip that waitress heavily later on. She deserves it after dealing with Bellini’s crap.”
Chapter Six
**PAISLEY**
What the hell am I doing?
I am doing exactly what Jonathan told me not to do. I am slowly becoming attached, I am getting too close to Reese, and I’m dropping that professional façade I’m supposed to be wearing.
Hell, we just held hands.
HELD HANDS!
His thumb rubs across the top of my knuckles. Thank God I used lotion before coming here. He could have been faced with crocodile hands.
Shit, he keeps looking at me and not looking at me like a regular person looks at another regular person. No, his soulful hazel eyes speak volumes of what he wants to do with me. They search for approval, for validation in his profession, as if what I think of him actually matters.
His posture is relaxed, slouched in his chair, legs spread for a decent foundation, his knee occasionally bumping into mine under the table. His smile stretches naturally across his chiseled and scruffy face as he speaks of his workout routine and the swim practice he had this morning. His hair curls out from under the backwards baseball cap he’s wearing, giving him an almost boyish charm, but I know there is nothing boy about him.
Under those clothes, lies a six-foot-two man, wrapped in well-defined muscles and ink, a body sculpted to perfection by the smooth surface of water and many relentless hours in the weight room.
Everything about him exudes sex, from his bad boy image, to the tattoo running down his arm, to his confident swagger. His appearance is unforgiving and whenever he looks at me, his eyes are ravenous, hungry, ready to pounce.
And then there is Bellini. I am kind of shocked to see how Reese interacted with her, not really caring about her feelings. Their whole relationship is really odd, which makes me wonder, is that the kind of man Reese is? One who doesn’t seem to mind insulting his significant other?
It shouldn’t matter to me; I shouldn’t care what kind of boyfriend he is, or how he treats Bellini.
But there is a difference between the way he looks at me and the way he looks at her.
“Want to try some of my pancakes?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts and shifting his plate toward mine. “They lack in the sugar department since I try to avoid the substance as much as possible. I’ve found it much easier on my body to recover when I’m not loading it down with sugar. But they are still really good pancakes.”
“Sure,” I respond, shrugging my shoulders and sweating just slightly from the recent camaraderie between us.
With my fork, I cut a triangle of pancake off his plate, douse it in some sugar-free syrup, and place the bite in my mouth. Flavors of banana and syrup flood my mouth.
“These are so good,” I say, covering my mouth with my hand so he doesn’t see the half mutilated food rolling around.
“Told you.” He winks, right before reaching over to my plate and taking his own bite without permission.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
Mid cut into my breakfast, his face rings shock. “What? I don’t get to try yours? That doesn’t seem fair.”
“You should ask before you go and reach over to grab a hungry girl’s food. I wasn’t kidding when I said I like to eat.”
“Apparently.” He laughs. His face turns sincere, and he relaxes his arm on the table, waiting for me to give him permission. “Paisley, may I please have a bite of your French toast? It will only be a little one.”
“Because you asked politely.” I gesture for him to take a bite.
What I think is going to be a little corner of my French toast, turns into a huge square, and before I can
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