Infamous Park Avenue Prince (Park Avenue Princes Book 1)

THE GENTLE SPLASHING sound of water had my eyes opening the next day, as it washed away the haze of sleep and sunlight crept in through the window to dapple my face.

It wasn’t my usual wake-up call, but as I rolled over and caught sight of the Chrysler Building greeting me, I wasn’t about to complain. It sure as hell beat my alarm clock.

Wow…

I pushed up on my elbow and rubbed a hand over my face as I stared out at one of the most spectacular views in the city—hell, the world, some might argue—and still couldn’t quite wrap my head around the fact that West lived here.

It was so outlandish, so pretentious, and while parts of that fit West and the person I’d first met when I started at Astor, last night he’d shown me a totally different side of himself.

The sound of running water found me again, and I glanced over my shoulder to see West’s side of the mattress was empty. It’d been late last night when we got back to his place, and even later when we finally fell asleep. But after our delicious dinner date in the park and last-minute packing for my impromptu weekend getaway, I’d passed out the second my head hit the pillow.

Some date I was. I’d barely had the energy to kiss him goodnight. But it was his own fault. He’d filled my belly, walked me through Central Park, and by the time we got back to his place, I’d drifted off into the best damn sleep of my life.

I mean, who wouldn’t? His mattress was so luxurious and soft it was probably made up from royal goose feathers or something just as outrageous.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and realized I was in nothing but my boxer briefs. I glanced around the floor, looking for the clothes I’d stripped out of, and frowned when I couldn’t see them. Maybe West had put them somewhere? Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

My bag was out in the living room. I remembered leaving it there when he’d given me a tour now that the place had actual furniture, and if I’d thought his condo was impressive the night of the party, with furniture it was like something out of a movie. It didn’t seem real.

He’d told me all about how their group lived in the building—hence the nickname Park Avenue Princes—and how each of them were paired up with another friend because their parents thought it was the best way to keep their kids out of trouble. Clearly that hadn’t worked, judging by the reputation that seemed to follow West and his crew around.

As I got to my feet to go and grab my belongings, I decided at the last second to take the sheet with me. West had assured me that East was out of town for the weekend. But in the unlikely event he decided to cut short whatever jet-setting trip he’d taken, I didn’t want to be caught by West’s roommate wandering around his living room in my briefs.

I wrapped the sheet around my waist and hiked the remaining material up off the floor. I glanced inside the open entryway of the en suite at the marble floor and walls, and saw the wide bathroom vanity up ahead, its full-length mirror running along as much of the wall as I could see.

From the tour last night I knew that there was a shower to the left and a bathtub overlooking the same view I’d woken up to on the right. But judging from the sound of rain falling, I knew exactly where West was.

My cock kicked at the mental image of him standing in the shower all slick and wet, and I stared at my reflection in the mirror, wondering if I was brave enough to go in and see the real thing.

Holding the sheet in place, I stepped inside the bathroom and was immediately hit with the scent of West’s soap or shampoo as it swirled around me. Damn, that was why he always smelled good. Whatever he was using in there was crisp yet creamy, sweet and a little spicy, and as it wound itself around me, I felt intoxicated. It was sexy and sophisticated, just like the man himself, and no doubt helped with the “I get whoever I want, whenever I want” part of his life.

He’d gotten me, hadn’t he? It wasn’t like I stood in naked men’s bathrooms every weekend for fun. But as that delicious scent beckoned me closer, I knew there was no other place I’d rather be.

I walked into the center of the en suite and realized that my imagination had nothing on the reality of West naked and wet, standing under a shower spray. Steam swirled around him, fogging some of the glass, but the peekaboo way it hid parts of his body only added to the sexy overall effect.

West’s head was tipped back and his eyes were closed as he ran his fingers through his hair and the water sluiced down over his neck to his chest. I greedily followed the droplets of water as they ran in rivulets along the hard ridges of his body, and as they disappeared behind the fogged part of the glass and fell to the shower floor, I licked my lips.

Jesus, talk about feeling thirsty. West made me feel as though I’d been in a sexual drought my entire life, and he was a goddamn oasis. He almost seemed too perfect to be true. Like a mirage that was going to disappear from sight, just when I reached the heart of it.

“JT?” West swiped the water from his eyes and moved his head out from under the spray.

“Hi, um, morning.”

“Morning?” While the polite thing was probably to turn away and give him some privacy, he didn’t seem all that concerned I was staring at him. “It’s probably more afternoon at this stage.”

I frowned, wondering just how long I’d slept. “Really?”

“Really.” He slicked a hand through his hair, and dear God, I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything hotter. “When I left you, it was almost noon.”

My mouth fell open in disbelief. “No way.”

“Guess I wore you out last night with my quick wit and conversation. That’s a first—usually it’s with my body.”

My eyes immediately dropped to the body he was referring to, and I didn’t doubt him for a second. Not when I’d been on the receiving end of what he could do with it.

I cleared my throat. “I guess you did. But for the record, I enjoyed every minute of our conversation last night.”

“Me too, but now I’m starting to feel a little self-conscious…”

Shit. Had I overstepped by coming in here? As soon as the thought crossed my mind, West chuckled.

“Not because you’re in here, JT. Because I’m standing here naked, and we’re still just talking.”

“Oh.”

“You’re starting to give me a complex.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true,” West said, turning around so the front of his body took the brunt of the spray. “Here I am, naked and vulnerable, and you still have a…sheet? Wrapped around you?”

“Vulnerable?” I grinned and bit down on my lower lip. That was the last word I’d ever use to describe him.

“Yes.” West swiped his hand across the fog on the glass, and when his thick erection came into view, it was all I could do to keep my tongue from rolling out of my mouth. “I’m at my most vulnerable right now. Can’t you see?”

I could see, all right. It was pretty hard to miss now that he’d cleared things up for me.

“Why does the word ‘vulnerable’ sound a whole lot like ‘powerful’ coming out of your mouth?”

“I don’t know.” He flashed an arrogant smirk as he circled his cock. “You tell me.”

God, if I had one ounce of the charisma West did, I’d feel invincible too. “You’re good looking to the point it’s ridiculous?”

He eyed me through the glass. “How about good looking enough to have you dropping the sheet?”

Knowing I wasn’t naked underneath, I felt the devil on my shoulder urging me to have a little fun with West. It was time for some payback. Time to tease him a little. He was always the one who had the upper hand, so maybe it was time to play with him for a change.

I reached for the spot where I’d tucked the sheet in by my hip. “You want me to take this off?”

West licked at the condensation on his top lip. “More than my next breath.”

I swallowed and moved so I was standing in front of the glass. Then I flattened my hand and slid it down to where my hard-on ached between my thighs. “I can do that.”

“Yeah, you can.”

“And then what?”

West moved in the shower stall until he was leaning back against the marble wall, and when he widened his stance and pumped his shaft, I curled my fingers around the material covering me.

This plan to tease West sure felt a lot like I was teasing myself.

“Then…” West’s voice was gravel rough. “We can see if I can wear you out with more than just my scintillating conversation.”

“Did you really just use the word scintillating while stroking your dick?”

“What can I say, your scholastic ways are rubbing off on me.”

I snorted and reached for the tucked-in edge of the sheet.

“Then maybe you’re right.” I dragged my teeth over my lip as I let my eyes linger on his flexing fingers. “And I’ll find other ways to rub off on you too.”

“Hell yes.” West nodded and pushed off the wall. “Do it. Drop the sheet and get in here.”

“Yeah?” I said, bolder than I’d ever been as I angled my chin up. “That’s what you want?”

I wasn’t sure why, but something was pushing me to get him to admit it. To get West to admit that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. Talk about feeling vulnerable.

“JT?”

“Yeah?”

“Drop the fucking sheet.”

There was that cocky arrogance again, and it was all I needed to decide to follow through with this little game and give him a taste of his own medicine.

I took a step back, and as the sheet fell to the floor and he caught sight of my boxer briefs still covering me, his eyes narrowed.

“You better take them the fuck off.”

I chuckled and ran my thumb inside the edge of my underwear. “What? These? No, you just said the sheet, and, well, anything more and I might start to feel…vulnerable.”

“JT…” West said as I started to walk backward. “Don’t make me chase you.”

My dick lurched at that threat, and I was starting to discover things about myself I never knew.

First: I liked bossy, arrogant men.

Second: I also liked the way West looked at me like he wanted to devour me.

And third: I apparently liked the thrill of the chase.

Because the second he turned off the water and I saw him reach for the towel, I turned and made a mad dash for the bedroom. My heart pounded almost as hard as my cock, but when there was nowhere for me to hide, I ran out of the bedroom door and down the hall.

I heard the sound of his feet on the marble floor behind me, but didn’t look back. It wasn’t until a large hand gripped my arm and drew me to a halt in the middle of his living room that I glanced over my shoulder.

West’s warm breath was harsh by my cheek, his wet chest pressed up against my back, and as he wrapped his other arm around my waist, my entire body trembled.

Jesus. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so turned on. But when West’s hard-on bumped up against my ass, I moaned.

Without a word, he walked me over to the wall of windows flanking the living room. Then he slid his hand down inside my briefs and curled his fingers around me.

“You little fucking tease,” he said, and flicked the tip of his tongue over my lobe.

A shiver raced up my spine as I leaned back into him, and never had I felt more aroused than I did right then.

“Feeling powerful right now, JT?”

I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, but it was good. I rolled my hips back against him, making him groan.

“Then how about this?” West moved his lips to the side of my neck and sucked. “We both get each other off. Right here, on top of the fucking world…”

In that moment I would’ve given him anything, handjob included.

Minutes later, I did.

And when West bit down into my shoulder and came all over me, I realized what it meant to feel truly powerful.

“YOU’RE STARING AGAIN…”

I glanced up from my laptop and looked at where West sat opposite me in a velvet accent chair. He had his feet propped up on the coffee table and a book in hand, and while I’d been trying my hardest to ignore the heated stares he was aiming my way, the flush on my cheeks was becoming more and more of a distraction.

“You’re cute when you concentrate. It’s difficult not to.”

“Cute?” I scrunched up my nose and directed my attention back to the essay I’d been trying my hardest to write for the last hour or so. Not an easy feat when I was in the same room with a personality that dominated the space just by its presence.

“Yeah.” West laid the open book over his thigh. “Your brow furrows, and you get this little V right here.” He rubbed a finger between his eyebrows. “Very cute.”

I’d never been called cute before, and especially not by a guy, so I wasn’t quite sure how to take it. “Um, thanks?”

West chuckled. “It’s a compliment, JT. I like how you look, and I like looking at you. You’re so different from the people I know. I find myself watching you to see the way you’ll react to things.”

“You mean to see if I’m going to be all wide-eyed and impressed by your money and charm?”

“Don’t forget my amazing body.”

I picked up a Twizzler from the packet I’d been munching on and tossed it at West’s head, and when he caught it and bit down into the candy, I forced myself not to look at his mouth.

“Well, it doesn’t matter why you’re looking at me—you need to stop. I’m trying to work, and it’s distracting.”

“Because you want my amazing body.”

“Wessst.” I groaned and pretended to beat my head on the back of the couch. “I have to get this done. You promised if I stayed here this weekend you’d let me work.”

“I know, I know, but isn’t it break time yet?”

I let out a sigh, doing my best to feign annoyance. But my grin was a dead giveaway that I was more than happy to stop.

“Okay, you get”—I looked at the time on my phone—“fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes? We’ve been working for hours.”

“I’ve been working for hours. You’ve ordered lunch, eaten lunch, listened to your headphones, and read some of that book—is that for class or fun?”

“It’s a book about how ‘a small group of Wall Street iconoclasts realize that the U.S. stock market has been rigged for the benefit of insiders.’ What do you think?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “It’s definitely not my idea of fun. But I’ve never been very good at math and numbers.”

“But JT, how are you going to count your millions if you aren’t good at numbers?”

“Millions?” I scoffed. “Yeah, somehow I don’t see myself counting wads of cash from whatever career I go into.”

“No? Why not? You got a thing against money?”

I laughed and looked around his lavish condo. “No. But I highly doubt my poetry or writing is going to land me a condo at the Towers.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Says the man reading books about Wall Street for fun.”

West shrugged, his smile a little sheepish. “It is fun for me.”

“Really?” I didn’t believe him for a second.

“Well, not Wall Street per se, but finances in general. That’s my major. I’m good with numbers, they make sense in my head, and if I want to take over the family business one day”—West winked at me—“then it doesn’t hurt to know how the world of money works.”

I wasn’t sure why, but the idea of West majoring in finances seemed so out of character for him. It was too low-key. West was so charismatic, and numbers were just…boring.

“You look horrified.”

I really needed to get better at keeping a neutral expression. “Not horrified, no. I was just… I guess I was just wondering if that was your idea or your parents’?”

“To run this place?” West looked over his shoulder at the magnificent view, then back to me. “Do I look crazy? Running the Astoria would be a privilege. But it’s one I’m going to have to earn. So while I’m positive my parents are happy with the direction I decided to take, they definitely didn’t force it on me.”

“That makes sense. I just figured with your parents owning such a massive company that they might—”

“Force me into a job I don’t want? Nah. Some of the other guys are in that situation, but mine, they’re pretty cool. What about you? You into all that poetry and creative writing because of the librarian and the dean?”

My eyes widened at West’s recollection of what my dad did for a living, because as far I could remember, we’d only ever talked about it the first time we met.

“Ah, no. Like you, they pretty much gave me the option to pick my own path. And while I love writing poems and going to slam poetry nights in the city to watch others perform, I can’t imagine that’s going to work out for me.”

“Why? I’ve read some of your stuff. It’s great.”

“You’ve read three lines of my stuff.”

“And those three lines were great.”

“Yeah, but the odds of making anything off it? Not high. I’m too shy. I much prefer to be the person behind the words than up there saying them. So I don’t know where that leaves me, which I know freaks my mom out.” I gave him a crooked smile. “But as long as it leads to some sort of career that will feed me, I think she’ll be just fine. My dad, on the other hand, just wants me to be happy.”

A slow smile curved West’s lips and when it reached his blue eyes, they all but sparkled. “And are you happy?”

My stomach flipped at the question. “I am. Are you?”

West picked up his book and nodded. “Yeah. I really am.” Then he pointed to my computer. “Break time’s over. Stop trying to distract me from my studies.”

I laughed and grabbed up my laptop, and as I reopened my essay and began to write, I heard West say, “I’d like to hear some of your poetry one day.”

My eyes flew to his, and he shrugged.

“Sorry.” His smile said he wasn’t sorry in the least. “I just wanted you to know.”