Page 97 of Stroked by (Stroked)
My career matters more to me than anything, and here I am, messing around with it because I can’t keep my thong shoved up my ass, but rather on the floor of Reese’s bedroom.
The sliding glass door shuts, and I see Reese approaching, charming smile intact. For some reason, it’s not making me feel better. Needing some space, I ignore his approach and visit the powder room that’s off the entryway.
My hands grip the edge of the sink, and I look at myself in the mirror. Why do I always have to make everything so complicated? I couldn’t just be the next owner to my family’s general store, I had to go out and be my individual self. And I couldn’t do my job without letting my grandpa distract me, I just had to answer his questions only to get myself fired. And then when I get a job, I can’t just do it, I have to go and make out with my boss’s fake boyfriend. Actually, not only make out, but have sex with him, several, seriously hot times.
Weren’t people supposed to have a little Jiminy Cricket inside them, telling them what to do? How come mine seems like he’s drunk all the time, making the worst possible decisions ever?
The door to the powder room props open and Reese walks in, making the space significantly smaller with his stature.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, looking at him in the mirror.
Without answering, he grips my hips and pulls me against his chest. His head falls forward and he kisses my neck. I can’t help the way my stomach flips with each caress of his mouth across my skin, despite my reservations.
“Reese.” I try to stop him but it comes out more as a moan.
“Shh, baby. I just need to make sure you’re not a lesbian.”
That wakes me up. I elbow him in the stomach and pull away while he buckles over, laughing the entire time.
“Unless you don’t plan on ever getting sucked off, you will never bring that up again.”
“Why not?” He moves forward, mirth all over his face. “It’s cute, you lied about your sexuality just so Bellini would ignore the way you yearned for me.”
“You’re done.” I cross my arms over my chest.
Chuckling, he asks, “Why? I think it’s cute, sweet really. You were crushing on me and got caught.” The teasing lilt to his voice only makes me want to crash my knee to his balls.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” Grabbing hold of my hips again, he traps me against the sink and leans his head down so his lips are barely grazing mine. “Did you have a poster of me in your dorm room?”
Not giving in to his advances, I reply, “No, wall space was reserved for gold medalists only.”
Reese stills and I regret the words right after I say them.
He steps away and pulls on the back of his neck. “Wow, low blow.”
Feeling incredibly guilty and remorseful, I wrap my arms around his back and pull him close. “I’m sorry,” I say right away. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just highly strung right now. That was a dick thing to say.”
“It was.” His face doesn’t lighten up.
“I’m sorry, Reese.” I kiss his chin and then his neck. The tension in his back eases slightly from my touch. “Please forgive me.”
His fingers play with the strands of my hair. “I guess I could let you make it up to me.” He wiggles his eyebrows, causing me to roll my eyes.
“Oh my God, you’re impossible.”
I go to leave the bathroom, but he yanks me back into his chest and captures my face, his lips pressing against mine before I can even guess what he’s about to do.
“Are you okay, Paisley? Are we okay?” The way he’s able to turn so serious in a matter of seconds throws me off.
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if this is all worth it.” I know my words sting, they hurt to just say them, but it’s a concern I have, a great concern. “There is just so much risk for me. Jasper—”
“You’re not the one Jasper is mad at, Paisley.” Reese tilts my head up so I’m forced to look him in the eyes, to see his concern. “I’ve spoken with him. He loves you and thinks you’re a great asset. He’s mad at Bellini for being a self-absorbed, offensive asshole.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, positive. You have nothing to worry about, so please don’t think this isn’t worth it. Because to me, I really feel something for you, and I don’t want to lose that because you’re worried about your job. Trust in your ability.” Leaning forward, he captures my lips once again, his scratchy new beard running deliciously along my sensitive skin. I melt into him, my lips matching his, our bodies molding into one. His fingers dig into my hair and my hands run up his back, under his shirt. His warm skin spurs me on, encouraging me to open my mouth and play with the seam of his lips, my tongue begging for entrance.
