The Satin Sash

The way he looked at her lips made her tremble.

He was a great listener, he was a great lover, he was great fun in bed.Why didn’t he kiss her?

“What’s your favorite breakfast ever, Heath?” she queried, linking her fingers behind his nape.

“I think it’s goi

ng to be you.” He glanced up at Grey. “May I?”

“Bon appétit.”

Toni squeaked when he jumped to his feet. “Heath! Señor Gonzalez is somewhere around the house, mopping! You’ll have to wait for dinner.”

He winked. “Or breakfast in bed.”

She stuck her tongue out and wiggled free, then went back to her seat and coffee. “I thought we could do something interesting tonight, since Heath is leaving tomorrow,” she said with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

She didn’t like it when she thought of him leaving, of never seeing him again, never having sex like theirs again.

Trying to determine the impact of her words, she peered up at him through her lashes, but he’d dropped his face to his plate, uncharacteristically pensive. Grey was reading the newspaper—looking at the pictures, actually, and making his own deductions, because she knew he didn’t speak Spanish.

“Do you want to go clubbing?” she insisted.

Heath forked up several slices of pancake and shoved them into his mouth. Grey sipped coffee.

“Heath?” Grey finally asked, lifting an eyebrow at him.

Heath shrugged. “Whatever Toni wants.”

The fact that he did not meet her gaze made her shift restlessly in the chair. She stroked the length of a spoon.“Well, we could have drinks,” she said,“and we could dance, and then we could . . . come back and have more fun.”

Grey made a face Toni had seen plenty of times before.“Dancing.”

“I know you hate dancing, but maybe Heath will dance with me.We’ve danced before, remember, Heath?”

Heath said nothing, did nothing but scowl at his food. They were both being sour, and she bristled with annoyance. She wanted tonight to be special, and they were ruining all of her plans with their surly dispositions, particularly Heath.

“Will you dance with me, Heath?” she insisted. “It’ll be fun.” I want you to remember this forever. Selfishly, she thought, I want you to remember me.

All she got as a reply was, “If I’m drunk enough.”

Music blasted within the four walls of the nightclub. Lounging back on a red velvet upholstered booth, the three of them sat facing the dancing crowd, which consisted mostly of tourists—young and in the mood to party.

Grey drank wine, Toni Baileys, Heath beer. Grey had an arm around her shoulder, his wine idle in his hand, while Toni’s left hand rested firmly on Heath’s thigh.

Heath felt restless.

Like when he was about to take a flight, he wanted to numb his senses, to not hear or feel or think. It was the people.The noise. It was Toni, with a drop of perspiration trickling into her cleavage, with that skintight dress the color of whipped cream, with her scent suffusing his nostrils.

She was horny. And a little drunk. He could tell by the wanton drape of her body against Grey, the way she put her mouth up to his lips, the way she let him kiss and kiss and kiss her. Fuck, he was tonguing her so hard. Heath shifted on his seat. His lap was hurting, his balls drawn up tight enough to choke him. Every inch of his cock was pulsating. Anxiety ate at him. He had the horrible sensation of wanting to gorge on her, like a man about to move to the desert and who desperately needed to pack himself with food. He did not want to be in a club; he wanted to fuck her. No.That wasn’t entirely true.What he most wanted was to kiss her.

She rolled her head and gazed at Heath with half-mast, hazy green eyes. That sultry gaze dropped to his lips, and he could not tear his eyes off her mouth, enlarged and wet from Grey’s kiss. An invitation to kiss her beckoned to him as she shifted her torso discreetly toward him.

His tongue felt anxious. He wanted to lick. Go searching deep into her mouth. Fuck her mouth with his. She’d taste milky, of Baileys. He’d never been one for kissing, but it was all he could think about now.What she offered were kisses he could not take. So when he went back to his beer, his eyes on a young blonde dancing nearby, Grey reached out and grabbed her back to him and took more of those kisses.

He made love to her tongue. Their mouths opened wide in a lazy tangle. Grey knew and Heath knew that Toni wore no panties tonight, and by god, through the smoke, booze, and vodka, Heath could smell her. Grey fucked her mouth and his nostrils, too, flared as though he wanted no breath that didn’t smell of creamy wet Toni.

Both their drinks were forgotten on the table as Toni massaged Grey’s chest with her palms, his hands on both sides of her head, pinning her for his onslaught. Heath gazed out at the crowd, his gut twisting painfully inside him; then his eyes went back to them again.