Page 31 of Envy

“Are you saying I smell?”

He snorts and points at the shower caddy he discarded like a sack of potatoes. “No, but you can’t call that soap. It should be illegal in all fifty states.”

“Tell that to John and the twenty bucks he gives me a week. What am I supposed to do?”

He glances at the half-eaten bag of chips, and a look of disgust crosses his features.

Yeah, not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

I’m back in his car, heading for his mansion four blocks away. It takes about six minutes to reach his house and another three to finally park in his garage. A thought crosses my mind after he puts the car in park and shuts the garage door.

“Where will I go when you throw one of your lavish parties?”

He opens the door. “I haven’t thought that far yet.”

Flashes of him with girls like Cassie in the king-sized bed make me want to throw up. I slam the car door shut harder than necessary.

“What’s wrong, my little Darkthorn? Your thoughts getting ahead of you?”

It’s like he knows what I’m thinking. Am I that transparent? Does he see the way I look at him, the way he unravels me with his dark gaze?

“I don’t have any thoughts when it comes to you,” I snap and walk inside as if this is my house.

I head down the hallway, remembering the bedroom he always takes me to, but then I recall the flash of black and the pointy ears. I pause at the threshold and scan the room.

Awareness skates down my spine. “You like this room, don’t you?”

“It’s the room you always leave me in.”

I haven’t had the chance to explore the huge house, something I might do when he isn’t around.

He chuckles, and I feel it all the way to my toes. “Whose room do you think it belongs to?”

My heart races as I stare at the bed that belongs to him. It’s why the sheets smell so good—they’re slept in by him. The decor and the painting all make sense, but why would he bring me tohis room and let me sleep in his sheets? Sheets he didn’t burn because they are still here.

“You didn’t burn the sheets.”

“I planned on bringing you back. I had them washed instead.”

I didn’t burn the clothes he gave me either. I kept them like precious souvenirs because I knew I could never afford something so luxurious, but deep down, the real reason was that they were his. No one had to know, but I’m sure he noticed when he grabbed my things.

“Why? The last time, you seemed hell-bent on getting rid of me. Won’t I contaminate them?”

He moves past me, pulls clothes in my size from a drawer, and places them on the made bed. “I’ll take my chances.”

It’s another designer hoodie and a pair of black leggings. This is the sixth outfit he has chosen from the closet. A tiny flutter rises in my stomach knowing he picked them out and placed them in a drawer in his room.

“Where are you going to sleep?”

He steps closer, his scent a breeze that permeates the air between us. “In the bedroom next door.”

“Why not put me in that room? Why this one?”

Why does he want me in his room, on his bed? The thought of sleeping in his sheets feels personal. I’m not sure what to make of it.

“Because no one comes in this one except Ace. Not the housekeeper, not a friend if they show up, not when I have a party, or a girl I want to fuck.”

At least I’m not sleeping in cum-infested sheets. I should be grateful, considering it’s him. Who knows how many women he’s been with?

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