A Taste of You Read Online Free PDF Page A

standing in front of him, and all Carlo wanted to do was step closer, bury his face in its neck, and let the scent of sugar and vanilla surround him while the damn thing eviscerated him.
    He focused on his anger. Anger made his heart pound and his pulse race when he looked at Garrett, who had no right to let himself into this apartment after what he’d done. He had no right to treat his partner this way. He had no right to stand there sounding injured and looking like sex on stick.
    Carlo did not want to lick him. He certainly didn’t want to bury his face in his neck and be seduced by that lie of a sweet scent. For the first time ever, Garrett was standing in his apartment and Carlo didn’t want to make love to him. He didn’t want to hold him close and beg him to stay.
    He wanted to bend him over the nearest surface and bang some damn sense into him. Right. Fucking. Now.
    “I’m going to take a shower. Be gone when I get out.”
    He made a point of breathing out as he passed Garrett, and he almost made it. Then Garrett’s hand wrapped around his wrist and brought him to a stop. They were close, so close. He tried to breathe through his mouth and kept his eyes fixed forward. He tried to ignore the firm grip on his wrist and the touch that burned against his already over-heated skin.
    “Carlo, please.”
    Please . Garrett used the word all the time. A finer dice, please or more seasoning, please or like this, please . Because Garrett had been raised correctly in a proper British household and his upbringing included an observance of the courtesies.
    Except when Garrett said please, he wasn’t really asking anyone for anything. Garrett did what he was going to do, and you either came along for the ride or got left by the side of the road.
    Carlo, please.
    Carlo found it unlikely that Garrett was actually pleading now, no matter how it sounded. But Garrett had never used that tone before, and Carlo had never known him to try to stop anyone from walking out of his life. And, no, goddamnit, that did not make him feel special. It didn’t ignite a tiny flare of hope somewhere in the empty cavity where his heart had been this morning.
    “I need a shower.” Had he agreed to something?
    He pulled his wrist away and headed for the sanctuary of the bathroom. He was halfway there before he allowed himself to breathe normally again.
    No way did he pick up a hint of sugar and vanilla through the overwhelming funk of sweaty Italian.
    The endorphins were wearing off. He stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes and stepped into the shower. He felt tired and shell-shocked. He didn’t want to leave Ransom, no matter what Garrett had done.
    Ransom. Matt’s hand stroking down Garrett’s arm. Matt answering the door at Garrett’s apartment. He couldn’t face that either.
    Ransom was theirs, his and Garrett’s. He didn’t want Matt there, and it had nothing to do with any rules about dating the staff.  He couldn’t exactly tell Garrett what his objections were either. What was he going to say?
    Yes, he’s perfect for you. He’s hot, talented, and shares your passion for food. He undoubtedly “gets” you in ways I never will. You’re so compatible you’re the same goddamn person. Of course, you’ve broken all the rules for him, but I’ve been waiting for you to break them for me.
    Yes, that would go over just swell.
    And what kind of shitty person begrudged his best friend finally growing up and finding someone to get serious about? It wasn’t like Garrett had asked Carlo to fall in love with him. Carlo was the pathetic dweeb who had, all on his own, structured his whole life, career included, around hoping that Garrett would one day wake up and realize they were meant to be more than business partners.
    He ran a towel over his head and did a quick buff down his body before pulling on fresh clothes. The last of the shock, endorphins, anger, adrenaline, whatever, was wearing off, and he was left with the realization he had