Beyond Me Read online

  Formatted by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs

  Other Books By Jennifer Probst

  The Bestselling Marriage to a Billionaire Series

  The Marriage Bargain

  The Marriage Trap

  The Marriage Mistake

  The Marriage Merger

  The Book of Spells

  The Searching For Series

  Searching for Someday

  Searching for Perfect

  Executive Seduction

  All The Way

  A Life Worth Living

  The Holiday Hoax

  The Tantric Principle

  Sex, Lies and Contracts

  The Steele Brother Series

  Catch Me

  Play Me

  Dare Me

  Dear Reader,

  Prepare yourself for Sex on the Beach, a trilogy featuring BETWEEN US (Jen McLaughlin), BEYOND ME (Jennifer Probst), and BEFORE YOU (Jenna Bennett). Three separate novellas. Three different authors. One literary world. Read them all, or just read one. It's up to you! No matter which route you choose, these standalone novellas are sure to satisfy your need for sizzling romance and an emotion packed story.

  Happy Reading!

  Jen, Jenna, and Jennifer

  Praise for BEYOND ME: "I loved this book, I very much enjoyed getting to know James and Quinn, and I wanted to step into their world of sun and water and love. This book made spring break even more fun, even with the intense feelings, I want to head to Florida now! I give this book 5 huge sunny and sandy stars!" -Sizzling Book Blog "Jennifer Probst does it again in Beyond Me with another amazing hit. From the first chapter I was captivated immediately and couldn't put it down. The chemistry between James and Quinn had my heart racing, soaring, and dropping on more than one occasion. I found myself lost in their story, not wanting it to end." -NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author Kelly Elliott Praise for BETWEEN US: "The sweet good-girl looking to be a bit naughty and the sexy bad-boy looking to be thought of as good...Jen gives us another winning story with BETWEEN US. Drool worthy and devourable with plenty of emotion, I adored this book from start to finish! A must read!" -Jillian, from Read, Love, Blog "Anything that Jen McLaughlin writes is gold, in my book. BETWEEN US is no different. Set in the sweltering heat of Key West, it has all the passion, friendship and drama that made it impossible to put down. Go read this book. You won't be disappointed!" -Casey, Literary Escapism Praise for BEFORE YOU: "The story felt fun, as Cassie enjoys the sunshine, and things develop and start to sizzle when she meets Ty. It kept me on the edge of my seat...and I was curling my toes at the romance." -Bella, from A Prairie Girl Reads "A thrilling mystery mixed with romance and some much needed humor and wittiness, Before You is an enjoyable and gripping story." -Stella, Ex Libris

  Beyond Me CAN FUN IN THE SUN TURN INTO LASTING LOVE?

  Spring break in Key West with my besties was supposed to be casual fun. But I never expected to meet him. Sex and frolic? Yes! A relationship? No. But his hot blue eyes and confident manner drew me in. And when he let me see the man behind the mask, I fell hard, foolishly believing there could be a future for us. Of course, I never considered our relationship might be based on lies...or that his betrayal could rock my foundation and make me question everything I believed in...

  OR WILL A LIFE BUILT ON LIES RUIN EVERYTHING?

  The moment I saw her I knew I had to have her. She hooked me with her cool eyes and don't-touch-me attitude. I had it all--money, social status, and looks. I could get any girl I wanted...until her. When my friends challenged me with a bet to get her into bed by the end of the week, I couldn't pass it up. But sex wasn't supposed to turn into love. She wasn't supposed to change me, push me, and make me want more for myself. She wasn't supposed to wreck me in all ways. And now, if I can't turn my lies into truth, I just might lose her forever...

  For two amazing women, writers, and now friends. Jen McLaughlin and Jenna Bennett, I never realized how much fun a project like this can be! You were truly a delight to work with. Thank you for helping me stretch my boundaries, dare to be different, and most of all, to rediscover my love for play in my projects.

  Looking forward to drinking some Sex on the Beach with both of you in person soon!

  Saturday

  I WATCHED the plane take off and wondered if I had made a big mistake.

  The city of Chicago floated beneath me, and I was sent up into the clouds for a spring break I wasn't even sure I wanted. I sighed. So lame. Twenty-one years old and I was more comfortable working and studying than having fun.

  "Don't even think about it," Mackenzie said. Her newly dyed chestnut, curly hair fell perfectly over her brow as she studied me. "If you keep it up, you'll have a breakdown. You need sun, sand, and sex."

  I rolled my eyes. "Says you, because you're comfortable getting all of it, Miss Country Star. Or at least, most of it." That comment earned me a snort. "Me--I'm more used to rain and fog and sidewalks. This isn't gonna be like one of those spring break movies, right? Jocks slipping drugs into girls' drinks and taking photos of them to post on the Internet? Or sharks feeding on young bodies in a blood bath?"

  Mackenzie groaned. "Way too much Lifetime TV, girlfriend. How about a tropical drink on a lounge chair, your toes in the sand, and some hot guy standing over you, bare chested and ready to serve all your needs?" Her eyebrows waggled up and down and I laughed.

  "Maybe for you."

  "Maybe for you, too, if you'd stop volunteering every spare second and recognized a man younger than seventy."

  "Fine. I'll stop complaining since you were nice enough to finance the whole trip. At least I have my own room. I'm so sick of roommates and socks on the door."

  My second best friend, Cassie, craned her neck and popped into the conversation. "I'm with Quinn. Finals are coming and I want my damn 4.0."

  Mackenzie grabbed her magazine from the pouch in the seat in front and whipped out her iPod. "You two are hopeless. We are going to have fun on this trip, even if I have to force you. No books, no studying, no lameness. Got it?"

  I grabbed her iPod. "You can't turn it on yet; it'll mess with the plane."

  "That's just a superstition," Mac announced, trying to grab it back.

  Cassie pulled the plug. "Quinn's right, I'm not crashing before I graduate."

  Mackenzie groaned. "If it was a real problem, they'd take away our electronics at the gate. And how'd I get stuck in the middle seat, anyway? You're going to torture me all the way to Key West."

  I met Cassie's gaze and giggled. Mac was the one with the money, fame, and outgoing personality. She was a country star by sixteen, thrust into the spotlight, and came to college to get an education and get lost. I hated country music--she's still mad at me for that--and had no idea who she was, even after she played me her top ten hit. Cassie was the studious one in our threesome, and probably one of the smartest, sweetest girls I knew. And me? Well, I was the worker bee. Save the world, one person at a time, I guess. I tried to get everything right so I didn't disappoint anyone, especially myself.

  We'd met freshman year in English 101 and the moment we started chatting, something clicked. It was as if each of us brought something strong to the group, and I liked that. I had lots of acquaintances at Chicago State, but Cassie and Mackenzie were true friends.

  Cassie and Mac started arguing over the rules of turning on a Kindle, and I turned back to the window. Maybe this was a good thing for me. I was tired lately, and not up to my usual strict standards of achievement. A little sun and relaxation may jump-start me to finish the quarter strong, and getting prepared for my summer internship at the rehabilitation center. Maybe I'd even meet a cute boy I could flirt with. Even sleep with. Someone who could give me an orgasm. I was tired of reading about the experience in magazines and hearing abou
t its greatness constantly in the dorm.

  I settled my head back in the seat and tried not to hope for too much. After all, I was usually disappointed.

  Sunday

  A RED Solo cup was thrust into my hands, and I automatically grabbed it. Foam spilled over the top and dripped on my flip-flops. I had never gotten into the taste of beer, and was hoping for one of those sweet cocktail drinks with the umbrella in it. Like Sex on the Beach. The girls had gotten me hooked, and I'd had my fair share since we landed. Of course, I wasn't at the hotel, and this was probably going to be the best I got. Unless I wanted hard liquor. I suppressed a shudder. I'd gotten drunk on rum once and threw up for hours. I still couldn't smell it without getting nauseous.

  I forced myself to take a sip and maneuvered my way through the crowds, heading outside. The house was set up on a hill in a more rural part of the island, and reminded me of those mansions shown on HGTV. White with powder blue shutters, it was three stories and held an enormous deck that showcased the in-ground lagoon-type pool, tiki bar, and hot tub. Girls in tiny bikinis lounged on the side with their feet in. Some were on guys' shoulders doing chicken fights and pretending to be embarrassed when their tops slipped and they flashed the crowd. Of course, they had breasts, not like me, who was built with more of a slim frame and barely filled out a B cup. Boys stood in tight groups, drooling over beer, drooling over women, and drooling period.

  Ah, crap. I shouldn't have come. The first day was perfect--we got off the plane, settled into our awesome rooms, and relaxed for the evening. The hotel was first class--Mackenzie only did top shelf--and the place boasted four restaurants, two pools, swim-up bars, a dance club, and the all-important room service. We swam and hung out the rest of the afternoon, then had dinner at the pool. That was the type of event I enjoyed--my best friends, beachy drinks, a stacked hamburger, and some laughs. But today they ditched me early, citing excuses about plans made already, so we arranged to meet at the local bar this evening. The first few hours were cool, but then I began to feel pretty pathetic alone in my one-piece suit while couples or groups swarmed around me. Then a girl with a bobbing red ponytail thrust a flyer in my hand and invited me to a party in one of the private villas on the island. Not that I was special. She handed them out to everyone in lounge chairs, chirping about how it was the party of the century and a tradition for Key West spring break.

  I never went to places alone, with people I don't know. But I could only do so much sunbathing and pretending to read a hot romance on my Kindle. I was getting twitchy and bored. Water sports weren't my thing, so I figured, why not? Do something daring, Quinn. Go to a party where you're a stranger, and maybe meet a hot guy. Hook up, get laid, get happy.

  Now, I wished I'd stayed put.

  I sipped the lukewarm beer for something to do, and found a spot near the balcony. Hooking my elbows over the top, I watched the show at the pool while music pounded out in grindy hip-hop rhythm to inspire abandon and nakedness. For one second, I wished I was the type of girl to climb in the pool, shake her ass, and enjoy a little feminine power. I always felt so out of place wherever I went, unless it revolved around work. Social scenes reminded me I wasn't flashy enough or bouncy enough or enough of anything.

  Poor Quinn. At a cool party in Key West on spring break and complaining. My inner voice--who I termed my "inner bitch"--rose up and made me smother a giggle. I had gotten used to talking to myself back in the day and never got out of the habit. Sometimes I was my best company.

  My gaze swept the pool deck to see if there was anyone I may know, or want to get to know, and then--boom.

  There he was.

  Mr. Perfect.

  I blinked and tried to clear my vision. Trust me, I'm not one of the swoon-worthy girls who describes a guy like some male specimen. I've never been into the visual as much as enjoying a guy's sense of humor and conversation. Always thought I wasn't built that way. Even the first naked guy I saw on HBO didn't do it for me, and all my friends had gone on and on about his abs and ass and dick like they were dying to do him. Me--not so much.

  But for the first time, I kind of lost my breath.

  He wasn't movie-star handsome and didn't own rippling muscles or crazy tats or piercings. He leaned against the railing behind the bar, watching me, a tiny smirk resting on those full lips. As if I amused him by doing nothing. His hair was midnight black, rich against his tanned skin, and fell into perfect, tousled curls over his forehead. His eyes were a startling light blue, so pale they seemed to shimmer in his face with an odd light. I tried to break the gaze, but he wouldn't let me, just held my stare and refused to let go. As if the first one to look away lost.

  I actually shivered under the hot sun. Something about that gleam of interest and laziness said he was trying to decide if he wanted to play the game. If he played, he'd bring it hard. This guy was no bumbling, inexperienced boy. Probably twenty-three, but his gaze said he'd seen things, done things, and would maybe like to do them with me.

  He was bare chested, with plain navy-blue board shorts, and nicely built. Toned, but not overdone. His stomach rippled, and he stood with his feet slightly braced apart, as if he owned his space.

  Whoa.

  My heart fluttered in my chest, and suddenly my palms grew damp. I squeezed the railing tighter and tried to be cool. Ridiculous. He may be hot, but I don't think I even liked him. He was too confident, too used to girls falling over him and giving him what he wanted. I hated men like that--as if just by showing up they deserved more than anyone else. It was an entitlement thing, and since I'd had none of it, and had to work my way through every struggle in my life by myself, I didn't respect him.

  He suddenly arched a brow, as if he read my thoughts and was even more amused. Usually, that would embarrass me enough to race inside to escape, but this time I did something that was quite unlike me. I gave him a tight smile, and deliberately turned my back on him.

  There. Take that.

  Way to go, Quinn. There goes your one opportunity to sleep with a guy who probably knows what he's doing.

  Nah, not worth giving him another notch for his sexual belt. I did have my pride.

  But not orgasms.

  Please, shut up.

  "I didn't even say anything. How can I shut up?"

  Oh God, it was him. I knew it.

  I dragged in a deep breath and turned around.

  THE MOMENT I saw her, my heart stopped.

  I know it sounds like bullshit. That stuff doesn't happen. It's always glamorized in those pussy chick flicks. The music blares, their eyes meet, and you know they'll be fucking each other in the next half hour. Trust me, I've been with tons of girls, thought I was actually in love once but quickly got screwed--and not in a good way--and not once has my organ paused in my chest.

  She was fucking gorgeous.

  Not in the way I knew. I was so used to tons of makeup, tight, tanned bodies, and big tits. It's the way it is. I run in circles of society and money, and no matter how much I try to get out of it and despise the surface crap, I'm stuck. The few times I met a girl who seemed genuine, I found out later it was an act--a way to grab my attention and seem different.

  But this girl rocked me. First off, she came alone, and seemed content to keep to herself. She watched from the edges of the party with a thoughtful, analyzing air that intrigued me. She emanated a quiet, confident presence that radiated around her, like she was a calm in the storm of chaos. She seemed completely removed from the laughter and antics in the pool and around the bar. Not necessarily above it all. Almost like she longed to join but had accepted she wasn't meant to belong. Her hair fell straight and silky past her shoulders and hid her face, like a screen that swayed back and forth in a game of peekaboo. It was a rich shade of brownish black that contrasted with her pale skin. Sort of like Snow White in modern day. When the curtain finally parted, I was fascinated by her face.

  Large almond eyes, dark as sin, stared back at me. Her mouth looked swollen, as if she chewed on her
lips as a nervous habit, but maybe they were natural. She owned stark features--high cheekbones, strong jaw, broad forehead. The one-piece bathing suit shouldn't have been sexy when surrounded by miniscule bikinis, but it was. Hell yeah it was. The simple black was demure in the front, but cut high on the thigh to emphasize gorgeous, non-ending legs. The thought of those calves gripping my hips as I thrust inside her made me hard. When she turned to the side, I realized the suit pretty much had no back, and the fabric stretched over her ass like a gift from the gods. I imagined cupping her, lifting her up so I could take her brutally against the wall, forcing moans from those lush lips, and biting them myself. Swirls of raw lust caught me off guard. She was unlike anyone I had ever seen, and my dick demanded to claim her.

  Of course, this was when a few of my crew busted in on my lightbulb moment. "Fresh meat, James?" Rich pointed out from behind the bar. "You're eyeing her like you haven't eaten in a while."

  "Anyone know who she is?" I asked, never taking my gaze from her.

  "Nah, probably one of the spring breakers in for the week. Your parties are legendary here--and it's no secret pretty much everyone is invited." Rich studied her, then shrugged. "She's pretty. Nothing I'd be chasing though, especially with your options."

  Adam jumped into the conversation, never one to be ignored. "Where's her group? Never saw girls come alone before."

  "I think she did," I said.

  "Looks snobby to me. Like she's too good for the others. Besides, she looks cold as ice. What the hell is she doing wearing a one-piece?"

  "I think it's sexy as hell," I muttered. That was when I made my big mistake. Looking back, I wish I had kept my mouth shut and maybe things would've ended up differently.

  My friends shared a knowing look. "You got it bad, bro," Adam commented. "But I'd bet not even you could tumble her."

  Rich grinned. "Agreed. She's buttoned up so tight you'd need a crowbar to pry off that suit. Probably one of those control freak, studious types that doesn't know how to let loose." He gave a mock shudder. "No, thank you."