STROKED (The Stroked Series Book 1)

  “No,” I say quickly. “She has no idea.”

  “Oh good, so when this blows up, I’m sure she’ll take it very well.” Sarcasm drips from his lips. “Who knows?”

  I toe the carpet, hating every minute of this conversation. “Hollis—”

  “Hollis Knightly? As in Reese’s best friend? The Olympic diver?”

  “Yeah, he’s very trustworthy, he won’t say anything to anyone.” I try to soothe the explosion waiting to come out of Jonathan.

  With flattened lips, Jonathan nods; clearly I’m not doing a good job easing his mind. His voice is terse when he asks, “Who is the other person?”

  “Umm, Melony.”

  “As in Bellini’s hair and makeup stylist? Wow, that’s intelligent, Paisley.”

  He walks to the kitchen, and I chase after him. “She hates her just as much as I do. We had dinner with her and Hollis the other night, they are totally cool about it.”

  Pulling a beer from the fridge, he pops the top off and drinks immediately. He leans against the lower kitchen cabinets and rests his hands on the counter behind him, his beer gripped by his index finger and thumb. “Awesome. So glad you’ve been having dinner dates and a grand old time while you’ve been lying to me this whole time. Hope it was worth it, Paisley.”

  He takes off toward his bedroom but I stop him. “Jonathan, I didn’t have a choice.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t have a choice?” he shoots back. “Everything you do in life comes down to you making a choice, Paisley. From answering your phone during a show, to sleeping with someone you’re working for. Those are your choices, no one else’s, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

  It’s hard to explain my feelings about Reese to someone who doesn’t get relationships, to someone who has never been in a monogamous relationship before.

  “You don’t get it.” I shake my head and walk away from him, but not for long because I can feel his heavy footsteps behind me.

  “You’re right, I don’t get it. I don’t get why you would willingly put your career on the line, not to mention mine, since I’m the one who stuck my neck out for you. You’re young and stupid, a year out of college, I get that, but to make such immature decisions like sleeping with Reese King baffles me. You go and tell me that you know how to be professional but I guess that was another lie.”

  “I tried,” I cried, my emotions getting the best of me.

  “You tried?” He mocks me. “Oh yeah, looks like you really tried, Paisley. How long did you keep his dick out of you? A day?”

  Before I can stop myself, I extend my hand out and slap Jonathan across the face. Shock registers between both of us as someone knocks on the door. Holding his cheek, Jonathan goes to open it.

  On the other side, wearing a hood over his head is Reese, looking slightly distraught. I don’t blame him. I booked it out of Bellini’s house faster than I ever have before without even a word of goodbye. When I didn’t answer my phone every time he called me, I expected him to show up.

  It was obvious Jonathan knew during the meeting. He was rude and short with me; there is no doubt in my mind that Reese put two and two together.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Jonathan asks.

  “Where’s Paisley?” He peers over Jonathan’s shoulder and sees me standing in the living room. Not waiting for an invitation, he pushes through, but Jonathan stops him in the entryway.

  “You weren’t invited in here.”

  “Jonathan,” I warn.

  Reese sizes up Jonathan. They are the same height and almost the same build but Reese probably has about thirty more pounds of muscle on him. “I wasn’t looking for an invitation.”

  Reese’s voice is unlike anything I’ve ever heard come from him before. It’s menacing with a hint of “don’t fuck with me.”

  Stepping forward again, Jonathan stops him, this time, letting go of the door, closing it so he can push Reese backward, his hands connecting with his chest.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” Reese asks, pushing Jonathan back.

  Oh shit, oh shit!

  “Stop,” I say, working my way between the two alpha males staring each other down, but I have no success.

  “You’re my fucking problem. You think you can just dick around with anyone because you’re a celebrity? You’re fucking with people’s lives,” Jonathan yells.

  They are toe to toe now, their noses practically touching as venom shoots out of their mouths.

  “I’m not fucking around with her. Paisley means something to me,” Reese answers. A tingle of excitement runs up my spine from his honesty.

  “Until you get bored and move on to someone else.”

  “Fuck you,” Reese growls. “You know nothing about me, so don’t make any half-ass snap judgments.”

  “I know that you’re supposed to be in a relationship with Bellini but instead you’re fucking Paisley on the side.”

  “Jonathan,” I scold. “Stop it.”

  “What did you say?” Reese asks, his fists clenching.

  Not wanting them to get into an altercation, I put my arms between them and try to separate the small space between them. I’m barely able to squeeze my arms in the crevice that separates the two testosterone-filled men.

  “You heard me. You’re just fucking Paisley on the side.”

  “That’s what I thought you said,” Reese seethes just as he cocks his fist back and plows Jonathan across the jaw, shooting him backward into the couch.

  Like the girl I am, I scream and cover my mouth in shock.

  Momentarily stunned, Jonathan grips his jaw and studies Reese before shooting off the couch and ramming into him like a bull out of a gate. Both men crash into the closed front door, causing the walls to shake.

  “Stop,” I yell. Not knowing what to do or how to stop two very large and muscular men from fighting without getting hurt, I scream, “Jonathan, get off him.”

  Wrestling upright, they both fight for the upper hand. Grunts escape them as they slam into each other, taking cheap shots, and pulling on each other’s clothing. Fabric rips, fists connect, and straight-up terror courses through me as I wonder how the hell this is going to stop.

  Knowing Reese can’t get injured weeks from the Olympics, I step in, praying that a random elbow doesn’t blast through my eye socket.

  “Stop, please stop,” I cry, pulling on Jonathan from behind, using all my weight to fall backward so his balance is thrown off.

  I’m not ready for him to give in to my tug so when he falls back with me, we both slam into the ground, the two-hundred-pound-plus man of muscles falling directly on top of me.

  The wind is knocked out of me before Jonathan is lifted up by the shirt and pushed to the other side of the living room by a very angry Reese King.

  From below, I stare at his ripped hoodie, exposing his tan skin, and the veins popping out of his neck. Pure violence is radiating through him. His hair is wild and his five o’clock shadow that is growing in makes him look menacing. Glaring at Jonathan, he says, “Stay the fuck off her.”

  Turning to me, Reese squats down and pushes a lock of hair out of my face and that’s when I notice his cheek is bruised and his chin is bleeding. I reach up and run my thumb across his face. He winces in pain, making me want to punch Jonathan myself.

  I allow Reese to help me stand so I can face Jonathan who has a bloody lip and nose as well as a swelling eye. His shirt is torn and he looks haggard, and maybe a little regretful.

  “Are you happy now?” I ask him. “Is this what you wanted?”

  “He’s the one who fucking punched me,” Jonathan says, pointing to Reese who is standing behind me.

  “Because you practically called her a whore,” Reese shoots back.

  I hold my arms to stop them both. “It doesn’t matter who started what. This is idiotic. You’re both grown-ass men and don’t need to be punching each other in the face.”

  “I refuse to stand here and let him insult you like that,” Reese
says, wrapping his arms around my waist and conveying his words through his eyes.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Jonathan spits. “Paisley, have you seriously lost your mind? The dickhead is just playing you.”

  The hold Reese has on me tightens. Knowing I need to stand up to my best friend, I turn in Reese’s arms and say, “That’s where you’re wrong, Jonathan. This is more than just some pleasure fuck. Why can’t you see that?”

  “Maybe because you’ve never had a serious relationship in your life. Maybe because the guy holding you is supposed to be connected to another person. Maybe because this scenario is so far-fucking-fetched that it’s impossible to believe. Earth to Paisley: you’re screwing yourself over, your career. This is bound to catch up to you.”

  “Why can’t you just be supportive?”

  “That’s all I’ve been! But you keep doing the same thing over and over again, Paisley. You keep making wrong decisions.” Jonathan stands, a look of defeat in his stance. “It’s your life, Paisley, fuck it up all you want. But from now on, I’m out.”

  “What?” I ask, watching him grab his jacket.

  “I said I’m out. I’m done with your bullshit and trying to dig you out of trouble. You made your choice, you chose him over me, now live with it.”

  “It’s not a choice between you and Reese.”

  “Isn’t it?” He steps up to me, his eyes blazing. I can feel the anger radiating off Reese, ready to strike again. “It’s your job, your well-being over a fuck. I’ve worked my ass off to support you, and this is how you repay me? Well, I’m fucking done.”

  I quickly swipe away the tear that falls down my face. Reese holds me even tighter, looping his arms around my chest from behind. I grip his forearms and speak directly to Jonathan. “Maybe you weren’t the friend I thought you were, because to me, if the roles were reversed, you would never have to ‘pay me back’, Jonathan. I would help you because you’re my friend, and I’d expect nothing in return.”

  “Whatever.” He rolls his eyes and steps away. “I told you this was going to be a problem, that you needed to stay away from him for your career, but you didn’t listen to me.” Pointing at Reese, Jonathan says, “When she’s out on her ass without a job because you’re a selfish dick, just know, you could have walked away and spared her.”

  Swinging the door open, Jonathan walks out of the apartment, leaving a tumultuous wake behind him.

  ***

  “Hold still, Reese.”

  “Paisley, stop. I don’t need to ice anything, dammit. I want to make sure you’re okay. Please just let me hold you.”

  We’re lying in bed, I’ve patched up some of the cuts, and now I’m trying to get him to ice the welt under his eye, but he won’t stop trying to tend to me. In all honestly, the only thing that feels bruised right about now is my heart.

  I knew what I was getting into when I decided to give in to the temptation of being with Reese, but I never in my wildest dreams expected Jonathan to lash out so harshly. Yes, I thought we would get in a fight, but for him to say such hurtful things and get in a brawl with Reese, that was a reaction I wasn’t expecting.

  I’ve known Jonathan for years now and there has never been a situation in our relationship where we’ve yelled at each other, nothing like today. It scares me, but it also makes me mad. We are supposed to be best friends, but the words he said stung, stung in a place I never expected him to touch.

  I never thought dating Reese was going to be easy but then again, I never thought it would break up my relationship with my best friend either. A part of me thinks that Jonathan needs to cool down and then we’ll talk it out. But there is a darker part of my heart that believes what I’ve done—what I put between us—is unfixable.

  “Just lie down, I’m fine. He just fell on top of me, I didn’t get injured.”

  Grabbing the curly strands of his hair, he sits up and slides his legs off the side of the bed. “I’m not talking about getting hurt physically, Paisley. Fuck!”

  He’s upset, like really upset. He’s only wearing a pair of shorts, his back is tense, the tattoo gracing his shoulder blade flexes with each movement he makes, and I wonder why he is so angry.

  “That shit scared me, Paisley. I don’t want you thinking we can’t handle this relationship. I need to know you’re not going to go running. I need to know you’re in this for the long run.” He pauses and shakes his head. “I need a drink.” He gets up off the couch and heads toward the kitchen. I pray Jonathan is gone for the night, hopefully working our fight off with some random girl he met at a bar.

  But when I hear Jonathan’s voice ring out from the kitchen, I realize I’m not that lucky.

  “Can’t leave when you’re unwanted, can you?”

  “Pretty sure the only one who has a problem with me being here is you, and for the record, I let her go when I found out about her job and how important it was to her. She was the one who came to me.”

  “Am I supposed to be happy about that?” Jonathan’s voice spits like venom, and I wonder if I should go out to the kitchen to diffuse yet another brawl that seems to be brewing.

  “It wasn’t an easy choice on her part.”

  Jonathan scoffs. “Please, I saw how she reacted the first day you texted her. She was fucking giddy from head to toe. She knew the consequences, and now she has to face them.”

  “Why are you being such a dick to her? She calls you her best friend? I don’t see one ounce of a best friend in you, all I see is a judgmental asshole. Do you really think she would be ruining her career over some school girl crush? I’ve known her for just a short period of time, and I already know she’s more intelligent than that. She doesn’t make decisions on a whim, she thinks about them and acts with her heart. Being with me hasn’t been easy for her, but she’s handled it professionally, to the point that Jasper has been so impressed with her that he’s asked her many times for production help. Is being with me the best decision she’s ever made? Probably not. But not because of her career. Because she deserves someone better than both you and me. I was just the lucky fuck she fell for.” He takes a breath as my heart hammers in my chest. “If I don’t get to be a part of her life anymore, it will be a loss I will feel for a lifetime. If I were you, I would get your shit together and let the petty stuff go. Paisley’s worth so much more than losing her over some stubborn attitude. Grow the fuck up and be the best friend she deserves, you self-centered prick.”

  The fridge door slams and the padding of Reese’s feet across the apartment’s hardwood floor resonates through the otherwise silent space. I’m tucked behind the door so I can hear the conversation better but quickly run to the bed where I jump on it and casually try to lie across the comforter before Reese returns. I twirl my hair around my finger and act casually, refraining from whistling because that would be too obvious.

  Furious, Reese slams my bedroom door and then takes a sip of the water bottle in his hand. In fascination I watch as his throat contracts with each swallow, the fine sinew flexing under his control. When did swallowing water become so damn erotic?

  Everything inside of me heats up—not just from watching him drink water, but from the words he spoke to Jonathan. Ever since I can remember, my parents have told me to stop dreaming, to not waste my time on petty infatuations of breaking out of the shell they tried to hold me in. My grandpa was the only one who told me to think big, and then I met Jonathan. He captured the same kind of spirit I had for film and TV production. We were inseparable during college and when he graduated before me, he offered to be roommates. He watched me struggle through my last year with my internship and held me when I cried over The Incident. I never thought he would get angry at me, and say the things he said to me with such malice and hatred in his voice.

  But to hear Reese stick up for me, to put Jonathan in his place, it warms me so much it scares me. This man, in the matter of a few weeks, has swept me off my feet, bonded with me, made me laugh, made me realize it’s possible to share an inc
redibly deep connection with another human being—one so vibrant, so real—that I wonder if it’s all a dream. He’s made me feel protected, cherished . . . loved.

  “Paisley . . .” He walks toward me, flashes of remorse still in his eyes. Before he can continue with what he’s going to say, I press my fingers against his lips to still him.

  “I heard what you said to Jonathan.” My voice is just above a whisper. “Thank you, Reese. Thank you for sticking up for me and believing in me. There haven’t been many people in my life who’ve believed in me, including my own family. It means a lot to me.”

  Surprise registers across his face before his eyes lighten with understanding. “Of course I would believe in you, baby. You do the same for me. You cheer me on every day, why wouldn’t I do the same for you?”

  I sigh heavily, the weight of my job and our relationship resting on my shoulders. “I want this, Reese, more than anything, but I also don’t want to screw up this opportunity Jonathan set up for me. He really did stick his neck out for me to get me this job.”

  I can tell he hates that I care so much about Jonathan, even though the last hour hasn’t been the most pleasant of our friendship.

  “So what does that mean?” he asks, searching my eyes for answers. “If you want your space, I can do that, I can give you space, Paisley. It will hurt like a motherfucker, but I will give you anything you want. You just have to tell me what it is.”

  A smile tugs at my lips that morphs into a laugh. From the crease in his brow, I can tell that’s the last thing he expected for me to do.

  “What’s going on?” He looks confused as hell.

  “You.” I chuckle. “You have the reputation as the bad boy of the pool, you’re manly and rugged, and have this tattoo that makes women weak in the knees, but in actuality, you are the furthest thing from the image you portray. You are one giant softy.”

  He captures me and kisses the tip of my nose. “I’m only a softy with you, baby. No one else.”

  With a thoughtful expression, I reply, “You’re right. You’re kind of an ass to Bellini.”