Page 30 of Insatiable Park Avenue Prince

“I’m not sure,” I answered.

“He didn’t give you a name to call out?”

“You’re a little perv, aren’t you?”

“Says the porn star.”

I laughed, realizing just how strange this whole situation really was. I thought back to Donovan beneath me, my ramming into his tight body seconds before I came all over him. Had I called out his name? Or any name? I couldn’t remember that part, but it wasn’t surprising, considering how powerful my release had been. I was pretty sure I’d blacked out for a second.

Shit, if I’d accidentally said his name, surely Rafferty would edit that out, right? I’d have to reach out to him later and ask.

I swirled the contents of my glass and took another long sip, already feeling relaxed and ready to pass out soon, even though it was far too early for that.

“Well, if you end up watching, you’re welcome,” I said with a smirk. I didn’t need to see it to know what had happened between Donovan and me today had been off-the-charts scorching. So, hell, if Corey wanted to watch it, I wasn’t ashamed. I just didn’t need him trying to get in my bed instead of simply raiding my kitchen.

“Don’t worry, you’re still not my type,” he said, turning his attention back to finishing off his food.

“You might change your mind once you see me naked.” I winked.

Corey cocked his head. “Nah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re hot and all, but you don’t even game, bro. We’d have nothing in common.”

I snorted out a laugh. “You’re right. You need a fellow nerd who’s memorized all the numbers to your favorite takeout places.”

“Now you’re speakin’ my language. Andyouneed someone who actually likes to do all that workout shit you do to look like that.” He lifted his hand, gesturing up and down my body. “Ain’t me.”

No, that definitely wasn’t Corey. Who itwaswas someone I couldn’t stop thinking about. Someone with hazel eyes, an easy smile, and a body made for mine.

TWELVE

donovan

THE HARD RAP of knuckles on my door had me looking up from the essay I was working on—and at the time. Jesus, it was about to turn seven already? That meant I’d been at this for a good two hours, and I still only had half of it done.

I groaned and flopped back into my couch, sucking down the last of the freshly squeezed juice that had been delivered from the health bar in the lobby of the Waldorf. Usually I opted for my staple kale and watermelon mix, but with the threat of a workout looming overhead, I’d opted for their Energizer juice instead. The mix of carrot, celery, beet, spinach, and cucumber wasn’t for everyone. But it was the way they trimmed a handful of the wheatgrass to blend into the juice that usually sent my friends into fits of nausea.

Hey, they’d drink it too if a couple of hours in front of a camera could earn them a cool mil or two.

When the knocking sounded up again, I cursed the fact that I had some moral opposition to paying someone to write my essay for me. I could too, easily, running in the circle I did.If I wanted someone to write a paper for me, I could. If I wanted a grade changed for me, done. Hell, if I needed someone to help me bury a body, I could more than likely find someone to do that too—but again, I was pretty sure my brain would oppose.

“Yo, Van, get your ass out here!” West called through my door as I slid my empty juice cup onto the coffee table and got to my feet. “I let you skip gym time Sunday, but if you think I’m letting you punk out today, you’ve got another thing coming.”

I pulled open the door to see West’s mile-wide grin and shook my head. “Let’s not forget who punked out yesterday.”

“I didn’t punk out.” West straightened as I grabbed my bottle of water and key card off the table. “I just chose a differentkindof workout, and a better-looking partner.”

“And how is JT?” I asked as we headed into the elevators to make our way down to the Towers’ fitness center—one of the perks of living in one of the most prestigious buildings in Manhattan.

West chuckled. “Sorer than I am today, that’s for sure.”

He could joke all he wanted, but we both knew that this new relationship meant the world to him. It would’ve been laughable—actually, it was to several of our friends—but to me it was just fun to see him finally fall for someone. Especially when that someone was as sweet and good as JT.

“Uh huh, and what aboutbeyondthe physical demands you made of his body? You know, like his well-being?”

West’s eyes softened a fraction. There it was. The affection. The real feelings. The ones he kept for himself. The ones he protected from anyone who might shit on them—a.k.a. the rest of our friends.

“He’s good. I think I might’ve finally convinced him to get up on the stage at the next poetry slam night.”

“Oh yeah?”

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