The Satin Sash (6 page)

“You there?”

He gripped her hips, tendons straining in his neck as he began a series of rapid thrusts that sent her teeth jarring and her breasts jerking. “I’m there.”

“Grey . . .”

“Come with me.”

Toni’s head thrashed, her body convulsing over the table—coming as though at his command. Grey grunted as he continued to fuck, his balls slapping against her rear until one final delve lodged him in deep and he spilled with a deep, gruff sound.

She cradled the back of his head when he settled his cheek against her stomach and curled his arms around her waist.

“Hmm. So good.” He nuzzled her abdomen and kissed her just below her navel. “Want a bath?”

She sighed. “I’d love a bath.”

She stared thoughtfully at the fixture on the ceiling, listening to his retreating footsteps.

Within seconds he was back, waving her sash before her eyes—a bright red reminder of her wantonness. He studied the expression of uncertainty on her face, and tonelessly asked, “Did you give it to him?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed, struggling to sit.“Why would I do such a thing?”

He glanced at it with combined annoyance and indulgence. “He told me to wrap it around his door if I decided he should fuck you.”

Toes to her scalp, she blushed bright red. “Oh?”

He bent over her and whispered, in a voice that was frighten ingly low and erotically dangerous, “Say
ménage,
darling.”

She could not recover her breath. “What?”

“You might just get one.”

Hair wet from a recent bath and a towel wrapped around his hips, Heath dropped down on the bed and clicked the TV remote off. The tray from room service stood near the door, his burger and fries untouched for hours.

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. No use trying. He couldn’t get her off his mind. Grey’s girl. No. Grey’s
woman
.

Toni.

For two years it was all he’d heard from Grey.

Worse were the times Heath had called him at
Toni’s
only to hear his partner panting, and the unmistakable flirtatious purrs of a woman who, no doubt, seduced him while he spoke on the phone.

The first months, Heath actually didn’t give a damn about Toni. Grey’s women came and went, though admittedly not as quickly as Heath’s. But after a while Heath began to respect the woman who could keep Grey so . . . well, frankly, so goddamned happy.And then came the worst part.To his shock, Heath started to wonder what it would be like to have a Toni for himself.

The first time he heard her voice over the phone, he swore he’d just been kicked in the nuts. He didn’t remember what she said or how he replied, but he remembered the instant, painful throb in his dick. Her silky, I’ve-just-been-fucked timbre followed him for weeks. Heath began to fantasize about her. Toni. Wanton sex goddess. Toni. Seductive siren.Toni. Elusive, faceless Toni.

On his subsequent trip to their Puerto Rican offices, he’d found a pretty little twenty-year-old at a bar and taken her up to his hotel room. Burning for weeks that had felt like years, he kissed her, groped her body over her clothes and whispered her name.

“But . . . that’s not my name.”

Heath drew in a deep breath, jarred from the fantasy.“Let’s play a little game,” he said in a husky tone as he sat her on the bed and slowly started to undress her. “You call me Heath, and I call you Toni, hmm?”

“But Heath
is
your name.”

“It’s Heathcliff, baby, but tonight I am Heath just for you, and you are Toni just for me. Understood?”

“O-okay.”

He kissed her lips again, caressed her little breasts with the dark, beaded nipples. “You like that,Toni?”

“I-I feel weird.”

“Don’t.” He stroked her nipples with his thumbs, tonguing her mouth as he went deeper into the fantasy. “I really want you,Toni. It’s all I can think about.”

“Heath.”

“Oh, baby, yes, say my name.”

Heath groaned at the reminder. So many nights wanting her.

Now he had a face to go with his fantasies, and it was lovely. Unforgettable.

He predicted coming to it, alone at night while he worked his pained cock, thinking of that lovely face—over and over.

He’d never doubted Toni would be special. Grey wasn’t one to be easily impressed. His partner’s fine taste was legendary. The woman to win him over had to be perfect.

But what had struck Heath most at the benefit was discovering that Toni wasn’t one of Grey’s long- legged models. She was petite and lively, and the second those large catlike eyes had risen to his, bringing to view lips wide and plump enough to rim a man’s cock, Heath’s mouth had run dry.

She was no duchess. She was no porn star. She was your average girl next door, out on a special evening in her knockout red dress. And he wanted her.

He couldn’t begin to describe the way she’d felt against him when he’d had her in his arms and she angled her head back and smiled. . . .

The heat of that smile poured through him like sunshine. He’d have taken those lips with his if she weren’t Grey’s.

Grey’s girl . . .

Either the bravest woman Heath had ever met, or the biggest, sweetest, most beautiful little fool.

Grey’s talk of her had gotten him excited, aroused, titillated by the faceless woman who made Heath
want
something. But staring down at those eyes, he’d been slammed. In the chest and in the groin. And with every ounce of his being, he’d wanted her. He’d wanted that fruity, peachy-scented woman with the impish smile wrapped all over him.

If she were anyone’s woman but his partner’s, nothing would have stopped Heath from having her. He’d have her right here, sprawled under him.

He’d make her laugh. He’d lick her up. He’d stroke the inside of her creamy thighs and move slowly inside her. He’d make her forget to breathe.

The way she’d responded to him . . .

She’d blushed and squirmed as he held her, but she’d been melting in his arms. Heath didn’t know if Grey spoke to her about him or not. He didn’t know if she, like him, was affected by the mere sound of his voice. Lately just the mention of her name. But he knew she was affected by his presence.

Toni wanted him.

Heath wanted her.

Grey had been informed.

He was going crazy with combined dread and anticipation. Would Grey do
any
thing about it? Grey was so hard to read, so intensely contained to the world....

The thought that his partner could at this moment have a naked Toni in his arms made Heath ache for a prostitute. Both his heads hurt.

He was more than a little cranky.

And damned fucking tired of looking at the food tray.

Slicking back a few damp strands from his forehead, he crossed the room and wrenched the door open, pushing the wheeled cart out into the hallway. No cold burger and fries for him, thank you.

He popped a pumpernickel roll into his mouth before abandoning the cart when a flutter of white caught his attention. He straightened, swallowed back the lump of bread, and stared at the door.

Covering the PRIVACY PLEASE sign Heath left out permanently, a long envelope dangled from the doorknob, the logo at its center unmistakable.

RS CORPORATION. His heart began to pound. His stomach moved and not from hunger.

In slow motion, as though the thing were a viper—as though he would find that shimmering red sash inside it—he reached out and yanked it from the door.Tearing it open, he found a note carrying Grey’s unmistakable sloppy handwriting, the only thing that wasn’t perfect about the man.

A barely legible restaurant address followed, and underneath it, four words. Boldly underlined.

Heath chuckled. “Ahh, Grey, you’ve got your balls in a knot, haven’t you?”

He shoved the note back into the envelope and strolled into the room, fisting his hand around his towel to keep his boner from causing it to unravel.

He snatched up his cell phone. Heath had very little use for gadgets, but when business called, business called. In this case it wasn’t business, but pleasure.

Ahh yes. Pleasure.

Pleasure with Toni.

Falling back on the bed, he texted a short message. Just four words. Four little words that any second now would pop up in Grey’s cell phone.

Chapter Three

“. . . Yes, Mr. Hawkins, I will deliver before Thursday so you can make a prompt decision. . . .” Puttering around the bathroom in her bathrobe,Toni tucked the phone to her ear and frowned at her reflection.

Setting aside the towel she’d been drying her hair with while Mr. Hawkins repeated his wish list for her upcoming design, she braced a hand on the sink and leaned closer to the mirror. A red oval colored a patch of skin between her neck and shoulder. It was sensitive to the touch, triggering a not-unpleasant burn. A warm, delicious pleasure washed through her as she realized how it got there. Grey.

“Elegant and bold. Make it clear we’re taking on the world. I’m counting on you to deliver,” Mr. Hawkins was saying.

She brushed her damp hair, shifting the phone to the opposite ear. “And deliver I will, Mr. Hawkins,” she assured. “I’m certain you’ll be extremely pleased with it. I’m mixing gold, black, and a deep royal blue, and playing with a combination of fonts that will absolutely delight and shock you. Oh, and a very catchy slogan I’m working on.”
If my lover can get his hands off me, that is . . . and if I can concentrate enough rather than think of him, his friend, and the possibility of fucking both of them....

“Good. Good,” she listened to him say. “And I hear you have a shot at Viscevis. That true?”

Viscevis.

Her stomach gripped. She set down the brush, admitting, “It’s true.”

She still could not comprehend how that happened. A multimillion-dollar merger, where the merging companies wanted to combine their existing logos into a new one.

A task Toni continued to find daunting. A task she secretly suspected should be handled by a large firm, someone with more experience. A task that might just be a wee bit too much for her.

One existing logo was sharp and elaborate; the other heavy and solid. Combining them in a harmonious fashion seemed impossible, and yet she desperately wanted to land Viscevis.

“The old man said your work had heart. He’s been promoting you.”

“Well, I’m . . .” Shocked. “Pleased to hear that.”

And dearly hoped “old man” Mr. Preston—already promoting her while she still had forty days to deliver her proposal—wouldn’t have reason to regret it.

As soon as she and Hawkins finally hung up, she caressed her neck and got a fuzzy feeling in her stomach.
Grey.
She sauntered into the bedroom to rummage through her closet. His side was predictably in perfect order. Pants lined up by color, shirts and coats lined up by color, ties lined up by color. Her side was a mess, but somehow among that mess Toni had full knowledge of where she kept everything, and she refused to feel guilty about being a tad disorganized.

In fact . . .

Reaching into his side with a wide smile, she switched a black pant to the area of his gray ones, then brought a shirt from the top and stuck it between his jackets. “There we go, baby. Let’s get you a little messy.”

She anticipated what he’d do tomorrow morning. The same thing he’d done yesterday and the day before. He wouldn’t say a word and quietly set his clothes back in order.

When a morning came when he said something about it,
any
thing about it, she’d celebrate.

Moving to her tangled section, she rummaged through her tops, thinking he was up to something. Something . . . wicked. Grey worked that way. He plotted and schemed and planned, and Toni knew, without a doubt, he had some plans for her sash.

She didn’t know what to do.

She knew he’d turned the possibilities around in his head while he’d twirled her sash around and come to a decision.

There was no moving Grey from a decision, just as there was no moving a wall.

The man was so confident in himself Toni had yet to see a day when he felt challenged and didn’t step up to the plate. That episode in Aspen when Toni had been determined she could snowboard with him, Grey had asked, only once and in amusement,“Are you sure about that,Toni?”

“Of course, Grey. I can ski, can’t I? I can snowboard.”

She’d landed in places she hadn’t even imagined the mountain had. It had been awful. And she wouldn’t even get into the time they went horseback riding in Cabo. Damn.