Page 66 of Insatiable Park Avenue Prince

Donovan shook his head. “You’re right, I didn’t. But, um, if you’re free this week, would you like to attend one of the most boring nights of your life with me?”

“I mean, that’s a very enticing offer. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to ask because your brother mentioned it.”

Donovan entwined our fingers. “That’s not why I’m asking.”

“No?”

Color bloomed on his cheeks, making his face even prettier than usual. “No.”

“Then why are you asking?”

“Because there’s no one I’d rather spend the night with,” he said. “And I can’t wait to see how handsome you look in a tux.”

How could I say no to that?

TWENTY-THREE

donovan

MONDAY MORNING ROLLED around, and even though I’d sat through my first class, I had no idea what the hell the professor had gone over. I didn’t think I’d ever been so hyper-focused on another person, but when that person was Kelly Sinclair…how could I not be? One look at the guy and anyone would drop to their knees. But getting to know him, being so comfortable so quickly and still feeling every bit of excitement from something so new—it was a strange combination that had my stomach flipping as I waited at the pickup end of the coffee bar before heading to my next class.

“God, not you too.”

The derisive tone from behind me could only belong to one person.

“What seems to be the problem, Travis? Case of the Mondays? Someone steal your hair gel?” I asked.

He crossed his arms over his dark violet shirt, the buttons left undone to his chest. “You. And that big, dumbass grin you’ve got goin’ on.”

“Oh, I see. This is jealousy talking.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Trav, come on, you’re not a liar. I’ve seen the way you’ve been drooling over my guy.”

“That,” he said, pointing at me. “You and West are fucking suckers. You’re supposed to hook up, not get attached.”

“Really?” I arched a brow. “You want to talk about not getting attached?”

“I’m not the one bringing guys home after a fuck.”

Shaking my head, I reached for my iced matcha and popped a straw through the lid. “I wasn’t talking about the museum guy, but okay, keep telling yourself that.”

Travis’s eyes were practically always narrowed, but he was death-glaring me now. Even more so when I took a sip of my drink.

“What in the fresh hell isthat?”

I smirked at the subject change, but let him have it. “An iced matcha.”

“It’s green.”

“No shit. Matcha’s green.”

“Looks like you’re drinking grass.”

“Tastes a little better than that. Want to try?”

Travis looked between me and the drink in my hands and shook his head in disgust. “You and your fuckin’ healthy shit.”

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