Page 45 of Envy

I stiffen.

“C-can I?”

He spins around to face me, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Why would you ask me that?”

I swallow hard.

“Because I wasn’t sure if I was allowed one.”

His jaw tightens. “Have you ever had coffee before?”

I hesitate. Then shake my head. “No.”

The espresso machine hums. The silence between us is louder.

Then, barely audible, he murmurs, “You like strawberries.”

I nod.

“Is there anything you don’t like?”

I glance at the pastries, my throat tightening. “Cinnamon.”

His brows draw together. “Why?”

I fight the bile rising in my throat. “I just don’t. It’s disgusting.”

He doesn’t push. Just nods once. Then, without another word, he walks over to the island and—one by one—starts removing selected pastries, cakes, and muffins.

My chest tightens. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t eat something you hate.”

I stare at him. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he wraps the discarded pastries in plastic and slides them into the fridge. “For my housekeeper,” he explains. “I’ll make sure to order nothing with cinnamon.”

I don’t understand. After last night, something has changed. I don’t know what to do with this version of him. “You don’t have to go to all the trouble,” I whisper.

Garret turns. Walks toward me. Lifts me off the floor.

“Garret!”

My stomach somersaults as he places me on the counter, stepping between my legs. His warmth presses into me. “What are you doing?”

He reaches for a square of pineapple, lifting it just before my lips. “Open.”

The juice drips down his fingers, a golden trail glistening against his skin. Heat curls low in my stomach. I part my lips, biting the fruit from his fingers.

His gaze darkens as he watches me lick the lingering juice from my lips. “You like it?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

His lips curve.

For the next thirty minutes, he feeds me, learning what I like, what I don’t.

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