Page 12 of Envy

Cassie. Her mouth stretched wide, lips stained red, struggling to take him in. She gags. Not in protest but with determination.

Garret thrusts harder, a silver flash catching the light on his watch.

She whimpers. He grips her hair. “Shh…” The command is dark.

His eyes flick to mine. My stomach knots. His gaze doesn’t waver.

Cassie follows his line of sight, noticing me. Her face flames with humiliation. Garret doesn’t look away. He doesn’t stop. But I can’t look away either. I should run and pretend I didn’t see. But I stand there, book clutched to my chest. Hating that I’m watching. Hating that I’m curious.

Garret’s lip curls slightly. Like he knows. Like he’s inviting me deeper. He grips her hair harder. “Go.”

Cassie stumbles back, wiping her lips. Her glare burns into me before she leaves. I should go too. But?—

His hand moves faster, still gripping himself. He steps closer. I step back.

A silent game. A slow, calculated chase. My back hits the bookshelf. He stops, towering over me. The light from the window casts a halo over his dark hair. Like an angeldescending. But he’s no angel. He’s a demon. A predator. And I am prey.

“Garret…” His name escapes my lips like a plea.

He doesn’t stop. His fingers move faster. “You like watching, Rose.”

My fingers tremble. The book nearly slips from my grasp. A book on love.

He sees the title. His smirk widens. “You’re wishing for love?” His breath fans my lips. “For someone to read you sonnets and poems?”

He’s mocking me. But his eyes are dark. Wanting.

His forehead presses against mine. The pressure sends tiny pricks down my spine. I should push him away. But I can’t.

He smells different. Not like John. Not like any of the men before.

The scent of his skin mixed with cologne envelops me. His forehead pushes against mine, and the pressure sends tiny pricks across my skin. His breath teases my lips, but I’ll never kiss him,

“Have you ever wanted something so badly, Rose?”

The words are a prayer, a curse. I clench my hands. The book bites into my palms. “Yes,” I whisper.

I won’t tell him it’s death.

His breath shudders. He licks his lips. “Fuck.” His jaw tightens. His body shakes. His forehead rolls against mine. “I’m going to come, Rose.”

The pupils in his black eyes expand. A surge of heat. Then?—

His cum. I freeze. Hot liquid hits my hand.

My book.

My sweater.

He wipes the tip of his cock on my hand. Tucks himself away. Grips my chin. His cum-stained fingers digging into my skin. “Ithink you should get yourself cleaned up.” His voice is smug, wicked.

I shove him away. “You’re disgusting.”

He steps forward. “I think we’ve established how we feel about each other. It looked like you wanted a front-row seat; I gave it to you.”

I push him away, trying to wipe my hands on his black sweater, feeling the hard wall of muscles as he steps back to let me pass. “You’re an asshole.”

“At least I’m not a liar.” I walk down the aisle to the back exit. “Don’t come to my party and stay away from my friends. It’s your only warning.”

---