“Give. Me. My fucking. Kiss.”
“I said no.”
He let go of her and left his hand open in the air, as though it itched, as though he couldn’t close it. And he gritted, “Then give it to Grey.”
Heath wanted to pound something. The wall. The mirror. Oh yes, the mirror—seven years of bad luck. He welcomed it. Any other kind of pain except this one.
He adjusted his nuts inside his pants, feeling pain when he touched them, then grabbed the phone on the nightstand and punched some numbers, checking for flights to Chicago. He had to get out of here, get a grip on himself, get far and fast and away from Toni.
When he hung up, Grey stood by the window, his profile chiseled with shadows from the night.
“Booking a flight?”
“Yes.”
His friend. His only friend. Heath did not like the fact that he was considering hurting him over a woman. He did not like questioning his loyalty to him. Heath had always known, in his heart, that the day he went against Grey, life as he knew it was over.
Grey tucked his hands in his pockets and spared a distracted glance at the room in general. “So.”
With that single word, Grey waited for Heath to speak. It was an opening. Heath took it.
“She’s nothing to me. Nothing. I can goddamn kiss whoever the fuck I please.”
When Grey remained pensive, Heath slapped his wallet on the nightstand. He wanted to punish her for not being his, for calling him a loyal dog, for pushing him until he felt like cracking. He wanted to pound and pound and pound Toni until she screamed Heath!
“Do you want to go grovel with me?” asked Grey, regarding him as though he thought Heath might actually say yes. “It’s not that bad. Once you get a smile, you know you’re safe and feel such a sweet victory.”
Heath met his gaze in stony silence. Apologize. For what? For wanting her? For not being able to have her? “I am not fucking sorry.”
“I am,” Grey admitted, raking a hand through his hair.“She had a right to know what I asked of you.” He flexed his shoulders, visibly restless. “I had no right to set terms she didn’t know about.” He fixed Heath with one of his most commanding looks. “Let’s apologize, Heath. Then we can make love to her.”
No. Not make love. Heath would fuck her. He would rape her lips with his, force his kiss on her, force his tongue right into her, search everywhere in her mouth. And even then he wouldn’t be done with her—oh no, not nearly. He’d just be getting started with his pillaging, because then he wanted the rest of her, every inch his.
The sound of slamming drawers from the other room echoed within the walls of his.
Heath kicked his shoes off, heard them plop against the marble. “She’s all yours, Grey,” he said, lying back on the bed to stare at the ceiling.
Another slam reverberated, followed by Grey’s long, lingering chuckle. “Ah, I do like a good handful.” From the threshold, he sent an admiring look in his friend’s direction and said,“You know, sometimes I envy you, Heath.You don’t need anything but yourself. You don’t crave money; you don’t depend on luxury for comfort. You don’t give a shit what people think.”
Heath managed to keep his grunt to himself, all while thinking Grey was wrong. Heath had nothing. His days came and went. His life came and went. All because he kept leaving, avoiding rejection. He left, he moved on, the few acquaintances he made forgotten. If he didn’t want anything, he wouldn’t care if he wasn’t wanted. But he wanted Toni. He wanted that rosy-cheeked girl, and even fantasized at this very moment about tearing her away from the one person he’d always cared for—Grey. Nobody, ever, had made Heath want to hurt Grey.
When Heath did not reply and continued dwelling on his grim thoughts, Grey said, “The door’s open, Heath.”
Heath propped a pillow behind his head, bracing himself for the sounds of their lovemaking. Soon they filtered through the hall. Murmurs. Words. Heath dropped his arm over his eyes and drew in a breath.
Then he heard it.A little moan. His chest caved in on itself.Another one. So tiny. Only in the dead silence of the house could he hear it. Grey’s deeper, pleasured groan. He squeezed his eyes shut, furious at the jagged sound of his own breathing.
She could never be his. The knowledge destroyed him, frustrated him, made him feel helpless. He cursed and lunged to his feet. She was his for this weekend, damn it.
Out in the hall, he pushed at the slit of their bedroom door, widening the opening.
Grey’s body covered hers on the bed. He was still dressed in his dark shirt and slacks. His hips circled between her parted legs, his head moving over hers. He was kissing her lips—those lips Heath wanted—and then he was draping one of her legs around him, his hand stroking her ankle. “Kiss me back, Antonia. . . .”
A whimper. Of protest.
“I’ve admitted it: I’m a greedy bastard. I wanted this mouth to be just mine.”
Heath pushed a bit more at the door to enter, and the hinges screeched. Everything went still. Even Heath’s heart.