Read Online STROKED (The Stroked Series Book 1) by Meghan Quinn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Meghan Quinn
Tags: General Fiction
Ads: Link
protest, the bite is quickly eaten by the man sitting next to me.
His smile is broad; he knows what he’s done.
“That was not a small bite,” I protest.
Talking with his mouth full, clearly not concerned about food flying out of his mouth, he says, “I will get you another plate if you’re still hungry after you finish that one.”
I point my fork at him. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Believe me, if you want more food, I will order you more food.” There is a twinkle in his eye, a little spark I haven’t seen before.
I don’t reply. Instead, I stare down at my plate and will my breath to steady in its erratic behavior. I’ve never felt so nervous around a man before in my entire life. So, why now? Why does it have to be this man, one that I work for, one who is attached to a woman who could literally make or break the tiny thread that is my career?
Casual conversation, that’s what we need. Simple questions that will get me through the rest of this breakfast without shedding my clothes and begging Reese King to lick my nipples to hardened points.
Nope, I’m not having inappropriate thoughts at all. Not one bit. I don’t want to hump his arm one bit.
“Um, are you excited about the Olympics?” I ask, rather shyly, hating the long bout of silence between us and my idiotic question, but it seems pretty safe.
He chuckles and pats his mouth with his napkin. “Yeah. I have to get there first.”
I nod my head, mind blank of what else to say. “Do you have more practice after this?”
“I do. I have another session in the pool and then some dryland training. Pilates and weight lifting.”
“You do Pilates?” I ask, laughing from just thinking about him on a reformer.
“Have to.” He sets his napkin on the table, and I notice he’s finished his entire breakfast. Christ, he can eat. “A strong core is important when it comes to swimming.”
“Don’t you ever get tired? I get tired just after one workout.”
He shrugs and stares out at the ocean to the side of us. “It’s second nature now. I don’t even think about it. This morning was a little rough, the main set was strenuous, but I’m at the peak of my mesocycle right now. Taper week is coming up, that’s when I’ll be the happiest.”
“Taper week?” He looks at his phone, checking the time, and I realize maybe I should stop asking him questions, finish my meal, and let him get on with his day. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. You can go if you need to be somewhere.” I grab my pen and tear a piece of paper out of my notebook. “Here is my email address, and you have my phone number. Send me your schedule, and I’ll make sure to sync it up with mine and Bellini’s. I will work on those accommodations and travel arrangements. I only wonder about tickets, would we be able to get into the venue?”
“Take a breath, Paisley. You’re not prying. I have some time this morning before I have to be anywhere. We can talk swimming if you would like.”
“No, that’s okay.” I stuff a giant piece of French toast in my mouth, chewing quickly so I can finish my meal. Talking with my mouth full, I say, “Just want to know about the tickets.”
He gives me a quizzical look before answering. “I will make sure there are tickets for you and Bellini.”
“Oh, I don’t need a ticket if you can’t get one.” I shove an entire egg in my mouth, feeling the yolk drip down my chin. Quickly, like a ninja, I dab my chin with my napkin, praying he didn’t see the mess. A massacred pile of French toast, eggs, and bacon float around in my mouth, threatening to overspill at any minute.
“Are you okay?”
I shove one last piece of bacon into my already full trap, praying the maximum capacity doesn’t rebel on me and explode right in front of Reese.
“Fine,” I reply, covering my mouth with my napkin just in case something falls out. “All good over here.” I give him the thumbs up and pat my stomach.
His smile is broad; he knows what he’s done.
“That was not a small bite,” I protest.
Talking with his mouth full, clearly not concerned about food flying out of his mouth, he says, “I will get you another plate if you’re still hungry after you finish that one.”
I point my fork at him. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Believe me, if you want more food, I will order you more food.” There is a twinkle in his eye, a little spark I haven’t seen before.
I don’t reply. Instead, I stare down at my plate and will my breath to steady in its erratic behavior. I’ve never felt so nervous around a man before in my entire life. So, why now? Why does it have to be this man, one that I work for, one who is attached to a woman who could literally make or break the tiny thread that is my career?
Casual conversation, that’s what we need. Simple questions that will get me through the rest of this breakfast without shedding my clothes and begging Reese King to lick my nipples to hardened points.
Nope, I’m not having inappropriate thoughts at all. Not one bit. I don’t want to hump his arm one bit.
“Um, are you excited about the Olympics?” I ask, rather shyly, hating the long bout of silence between us and my idiotic question, but it seems pretty safe.
He chuckles and pats his mouth with his napkin. “Yeah. I have to get there first.”
I nod my head, mind blank of what else to say. “Do you have more practice after this?”
“I do. I have another session in the pool and then some dryland training. Pilates and weight lifting.”
“You do Pilates?” I ask, laughing from just thinking about him on a reformer.
“Have to.” He sets his napkin on the table, and I notice he’s finished his entire breakfast. Christ, he can eat. “A strong core is important when it comes to swimming.”
“Don’t you ever get tired? I get tired just after one workout.”
He shrugs and stares out at the ocean to the side of us. “It’s second nature now. I don’t even think about it. This morning was a little rough, the main set was strenuous, but I’m at the peak of my mesocycle right now. Taper week is coming up, that’s when I’ll be the happiest.”
“Taper week?” He looks at his phone, checking the time, and I realize maybe I should stop asking him questions, finish my meal, and let him get on with his day. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. You can go if you need to be somewhere.” I grab my pen and tear a piece of paper out of my notebook. “Here is my email address, and you have my phone number. Send me your schedule, and I’ll make sure to sync it up with mine and Bellini’s. I will work on those accommodations and travel arrangements. I only wonder about tickets, would we be able to get into the venue?”
“Take a breath, Paisley. You’re not prying. I have some time this morning before I have to be anywhere. We can talk swimming if you would like.”
“No, that’s okay.” I stuff a giant piece of French toast in my mouth, chewing quickly so I can finish my meal. Talking with my mouth full, I say, “Just want to know about the tickets.”
He gives me a quizzical look before answering. “I will make sure there are tickets for you and Bellini.”
“Oh, I don’t need a ticket if you can’t get one.” I shove an entire egg in my mouth, feeling the yolk drip down my chin. Quickly, like a ninja, I dab my chin with my napkin, praying he didn’t see the mess. A massacred pile of French toast, eggs, and bacon float around in my mouth, threatening to overspill at any minute.
“Are you okay?”
I shove one last piece of bacon into my already full trap, praying the maximum capacity doesn’t rebel on me and explode right in front of Reese.
“Fine,” I reply, covering my mouth with my napkin just in case something falls out. “All good over here.” I give him the thumbs up and pat my stomach.
Similar Books
