STROKED (The Stroked Series Book 1) by Meghan Quinn

hands behind me, letting them sink down into the sand as I look up at the sky, taking in the warm heat and the rolling sound of the waves crashing against the shore. This is exactly what I need: a break from it all, but especially a break from Bellini. Last night when I was forced to talk to her on the phone, she kept going on and on about the gay community, and how she is an integral part of it now. So confused, I stopped listening and tuned her out. I played solitaire—with actual playing cards—on my coffee table while she rambled on and on. It wasn’t until she yelled at me that I started paying attention again.
    Why she felt the need to call and talk on the phone was beyond me. Does she not understand the concept of a “fake relationship”? I make a mental note to talk to Jasper and Ashley about that, as I don’t want her getting any ideas of engagement, and I don’t want her to influence Ashley and Jasper either, fill their heads with proposals and lifelong commitments.
    Fuck no.
    One season . I keep telling myself that over and over again. I just have to get through one season with her and then it will be all over.
    Off to the right, there are four puny, teenage kids playing with a frisbee and daring each other to talk to a woman they can’t stop pointing at. I smile to myself, remembering those days. Wanting to see what the commotion is all about, I look to the left of me and see a woman sunbathing, wearing a red two-piece bikini. Her stomach is pressed against her white towel and her rear end is eatable in the most perfect way possible, sticking up in the air, with a thin scrap of fabric showing off her ass. The woman has no shame, and she shouldn’t; her ass is perfect.
    Because I’m a man, I glide my sunglass-covered eyes past her rear end, up her back, and to her shoulders, her well-defined and familiar shoulders. There is a pile of black hair, twisted and pulled to the top of her head with a red bandana pulling back any strays attempting to escape. I take in the inked words that decorate her body in a beautifully scripted way, playing with the contours of her sun-kissed skin, highlighting her gorgeous curves.
    Fuck.
    She is seriously sexy.
    Paisley.
    Without even thinking, I stand and walk her way. The boys behind me all shout their encouragement, but I ignore their pre-pubescent catcalls and make my way toward Paisley.
    My broad shoulders cast a shadow over her delicious body. From afar, she is irresistible. Up close, she is damn near lethal.
    From my shadow, she turns to the side, confusion on her face, until she sees who’s standing above her. Instead of covering up quickly to hide her exposed skin, she turns completely over and stretches out with her elbows propping her up.
    I have no shame; I look up and down her body. Her bikini bottoms barely cover her skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. Not only are they low rise in the back, with two straps on each side connecting around her waist, but the front of the bottoms dip incredibly low in the front as well. Her stomach is toned, to the point that I wonder if she was an athlete in her past, making her that much more tempting to me.
    My gaze rides up to her breasts, full and cupped in a matching red top, a little more modest than the bottoms, but still quite revealing, just enough to make me want to rip the strings apart and explore every last inch of her delectable body.
    “Reese, I’m surprised to see you here.” Interrupting my perusal, she forces my eyes to fall on her makeup-free face. “I would have thought on your day off you would avoid the water.”
    She looks casual, as if talking to me is something she does every day. However, I can hear the waver in her voice, belying her calm with each word.
    “I like to stay loose,” I answer, licking my lips.
    She nods and bites her bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. She looks up at me again and says, “I like your sunglasses.”
    They’re aviators, not even expensive ones, and I hold