The Satin Sash (10 page)

I don’t know
was, simply, not good enough when you were head over heels for someone. In fact, it wasn’t merely not good enough; it was depressing.

Disheartened, she glanced out the window as he drove up to Lincoln Park. The night was dotted with gray clouds that seemed ready to burst open and cover the city with a deluge of rain.

After hushed moments, Grey said, “I spoke to Heath.”

She could feel his eyes boring holes into the back of her head. “Oh?” she said lightly, turning after three reckless heartbeats.

“We’re on for dinner tomorrow.”

“Dinner.” Her stomach churned.

His gaze shifted between the road and her.“We’re civilized people; we can do dinner.”

“Yes, of course.”

How to survive it was another matter.

But then maybe—and she dearly hoped so—by taking a second look at Heath Solis, she would realize he wasn’t such a powerful black force pulling at her, that he was just a . . . man.

“Relax.”

“I am relaxed!”

“You’re pale and you’re going to make that little lip bleed.”

“Let’s get
you
relaxed,” she countered, plunging her hands into his delicious blond hair, leaving it tousled as he pulled open the glass door of the small, upscale French restaurant.The moment Toni stepped inside, she eased her hold on her lower lip and tried for an appearance of elegance and relaxation. She’d chosen a simple black cocktail dress with a high neckline for the evening, her hair done in a loose twist at her nape. A sleek gold necklace hung around her neck, falling down to her navel.

Grey spoke to the maître d’ in a hushed tone, and the woman blushed. “Why, yes.Yes. Of course! Mr. Richards.” She fumbled for the menus. “Your table is ready, if you’d both follow me.”

In the willowy redhead’s wake, he guided her toward their usual booth at the far end. Lovely jazz music drifted in the background, the space graced with sleek, dark wood tables and edgy, colorful Warhol pieces. The booths against the walls were upholstered in chocolate-colored suede with striking white stitching.

As she walked through the scattered tables, some boasting sleek, tall arrangements of pussy willow shoots, her legs felt so stiff she marveled that she did not stumble on her heels.

They reached the dark corner booth, and she quietly commended herself when Heath rose to greet them and she did not gasp. He was as overwhelming as she remembered. Swarthier. More beautiful. God. He should be locked somewhere. In a bedroom. With her and Grey.

With enviable calm and self-assurance, Grey urged her forward. “I’d feel extremely ridiculous if I had to introduce you two.”

Her cheeks burned as she stretched her hand out.

“We’ve met,” Heath said, his voice masculine and deep as he shook her tentative hand. His grip was firm, his palm dry and rough, sending prickles of awareness up her arm.

She’d thought, many times throughout the day, that this dinner would serve a purpose.That she would realize that no, Heath Solis wasn’t some god of the underworld intent on eating her heart.

It wasn’t working.

Her heart felt like someone had taken a bite out of it, and it cost an inhuman effort to tug her hand free and slide into the booth. Her stomach muscles contracted as the men greeted each other. Grey wore a loosely buttoned black dress shirt that highlighted the blond streaks in his hair; Heath, blue jeans and a black crewneck that molded around his shoulders. They were so stunning, so blatantly male.

Any moment now, she expected the heads in the restaurant would swivel their way and people would wonder what she—five feet four, not very bosomy, and not blond—was doing with the two of them.

She took the menu the waiter handed her and studiously eyed each of the offerings as though she’d never read them before. On her right, Grey scrutinized the thick, velvet-covered wine menu. On her left, Heath was scrutinizing
her
.

“I’m thinking red wine?” Grey remarked. “An Hermitage?”

“I’ll have white,” she quickly said. She’d have a bottle, thank you.This was so
awkward
.

“White. Excellent. Would Les Chaillets—”

“I love it. And a bottle will do nicely.”

His eyes sparkled as he gazed at her, and the corner of his lips lifted in amusement before he returned to the menu.

She risked a glance at Heath, and his attention was on her hair. His eyes slid along the gathered strands in slow, thorough inspection, then down to linger on her nape.

When he pulled his gaze back up, his eyes positively smoldered. “What did you do to your hair?” he asked. Thickly. Like a lover would murmur in the dark.

“I’m . . . nothing. It’s just tied back.”

“The oysters here are excellent, Heath.”

“Oysters.” Heath reclined in his seat. He did not stop staring at her. All of her. As though he were thinking of dinner and she was
it
. “I might have those.”

“The lobster is good, too.”

Heath didn’t say it, but she felt the words buzz through his mind. Buzz through her body. His eyes weren’t black, she now noticed, but a brown so dark you could barely make out his pupils.

“Toni? You’re having your usual?”

“I think so, yes.” She swung her gaze back to the offerings, a finger busily sliding down the list. “Though maybe I’ll try something different.Your salmon last time was delicious.”

“Ah yes, I think I’m having that.” Grey folded his menu. “Do you want to order something else and we can taste both?”

She slapped the menu shut. “Deal.You pick.”

Grey signaled with his hand, asking the waiter something about the wines.

“What do you do,Toni?”

“Pardon?”

“What do you do?” Heath repeated, stroking a finger down the length of a spoon. “When Grey isn’t taking up your time, I mean.”

The way his finger stroked . . .

She pulled her gaze back up, gathering her thoughts. “I’d say I take more of his. I love kidnapping him from work.”

“And he likes it?”

“Yes!”

He snorted, that great chest of his jerking as he did. The glimmer in his eyes was so playful she could not quite pull her lips back into place.

“I’m a graphic design artist,” she said, to answer him. “I used to work at a very prestigious firm, but I’m afraid I’m a bit . . .”

“Unpunctual,” Grey offered as soon as the waiter had left.

She spread her napkin on her lap, wrinkling her nose at Grey. “Yes. More or less. I don’t seem to thrive on nine-to-five hours. So I’m on my own. I’m not doing all that badly.”

“She’s doing wonderfully,” Grey proudly said. “Do you know Foxtrack, the motorcycle gear company?”

“Of course.”

“She did that one.Then there’s—”

“Why haven’t you done RS?” Heath interrupted.

He was unnerving her. She looked into his eyes and that bad-boy smile and presumed he was imagining her naked, which made her want to imagine him naked, which made it difficult to speak. He had a smooth, intelligent forehead that furrowed when he listened to her, and a nose that was shy of perfect. She would not even get into the small, intriguing scar on his chin.

“I’d intended to make a fabulous design for RS before Grey and I got involved.That’s how we met, actually.”

“She doesn’t sleep with clients. She won’t do anything for me.” Grey set his hand over hers on the table, his fingers caressing her knuckles. “I’ve offered her the world for a design and still get nay.”

“It’s just that I’d hate to bring business between us,” she explained to Heath.

“I see.” He was staring at them holding hands, and she did not know why she felt guilty. Maybe because of the brooding expression on his face.

Within minutes the wine was uncorked, their glasses filled, hers with white and theirs with red, and the conversation steered to the big, busy world of RS Corporation. Properties, buildings, zoning commissions.

The men’s voices felt like touches, and goose bumps rose along her flesh. Grey’s low-pitched and clear. Heath’s the rumble of a motorcycle. The nearness of those large, tanned, overwhelming bodies was fatal to her imagination.

Rather than focus on the conversation, her mind flicked with images of them.Together. Naked. Not engaged in polite conversation but in sinful, highly erotic acts of lovemaking.

Her breasts throbbed as she imagined being in a clinch between them, feeling both their cocks, her flesh covered by theirs. She took a sip of her wine, and another.The burn sliding down her throat did nothing for the one between her legs.
Oh, Grey, take me somewhere. . . .

As the men spoke about someone named Parsons, peppering their sentences with
not very competent
and
troubles of a personal nature
and
dickwad
—this one from Heath—the waiter appeared with their appetizers. A plate full of ice decorated with tiny toast points held a small bowlful of black sevruga caviar; a second similar one was topped with puffy white cream.

Stopping their conversation abruptly, Heath signaled at the offerings once the waiter left. “Do you like caviar,Toni?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she said primly.

Before she could pluck up a toast point, Heath dipped his middle finger into the plate full of crème fraîche and lifted his creamed finger to her mouth.

“Lick.”

She fought the staggering impulse, remembering Grey’s test, how she was fully determined to pass with flying—

“Lap it.”

She gazed into burning amber eyes when he spoke, the urge to please him intense. She’d liked to think it was mutual, the way Grey seemed intent on pleasing her, the way she craved to please
him
.

Into her ear, he poured his hot whisper. “Baby,” he purred, “I said,
lap it
.”

Her cunt squeezed. And she found herself trembling with eagerness as she turned her head and snaked out her tongue, tasting the cream, feeling it melt against the roof of her mouth.

Heath rammed his finger inside her mouth, making her suck it. The pleasure was so great, so shocking, her eyes fluttered shut. Giddy sensations trickled through her as she explored with her tongue, tried to separate the man from the cream, isolate the taste of Heath Solis.

She was loath to stop once she licked off the last drop from his long finger. He stroked her tongue with the pad, awakening little nerves she’d never known existed. Her heartbeat elevated to alarming speed. She’d never been so thrilled, so aroused in public.

Heath pushed his face so close she inhaled his sweet, fruity breath. “That’s going to be my cock.”

Thrown into a daze by his bold, entirely too thrilling words, she watched him sink two fingers into the caviar like a spoon. Before she could pull herself together, he dipped his fingers into her mouth. The salty sevruga spilled over her taste buds. And she pretended it was his cock—that surely massive, velvety thing he could pleasure her with.

Tongues of fire licked her insides as she suckled. She reached under the table for Grey. Nothing could get her so excited, so damp, than feeling him aroused. Her pussy wept when she found him with her hand. His swollen cock pushed his pants up into a tent, and she created friction by sliding the heel of her palm up and down the length. His entire body was utterly still except for his hips, slowly moving with her, dancing to her hand.

A perverse bliss flitted through her as she watched Heath’s expression as he fed her. His thick-lashed eyes were barely open, and his features were stretched taut. Then she turned to Grey. Never had she seen that carnal eroticism on his face. She could feel his arousal like an incoming tornado. He was ready to
take
her. She gazed at his mouth, hungrily wanting.

He had such sensually curved lips, lips to pleasure her, love her, and god, how good that scorching mouth felt on her nipples, her lips, her pussy. Desire raged through her bloodstream. Dangerous. Reckless. He could take her right here, and she might not even care that they would be watched.

She reluctantly let go of Heath’s thick, luscious fingers, and licked a stray drop of cream from the corner of her lips. Grey’s eyes caught the move and his irises transformed to the color of twenty-four-karat gold.

He set his wineglass aside and circled her nape with his hand. “Your mouth drives me crazy.” When he drew her forward and his scalding mouth covered hers, ecstasy ripped its claws into her. His tongue worked hers, suckling, pleasuring, taking with such force, she realized this play had ignited him.Then he was biting at her bottom lip, nipping at her jaw, roughly nibbling on her earlobe. “Say it and it’s yours.Tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

“No.”

He stabbed her with his tongue again, and she latched on to his mouth and sucked him deeper into hers, shuddering uncontrollably as his passion roared through her.