The Satin Sash

Storming to the tiny closet, he jerked off his shirt and rummaged through his suitcase for his boxers.

And saw a flash of shimmering red among his jeans.

The sash.

His heart leapt up to his throat. He fished it out from the bottom and touched the satin with his fingers. His body responded to its texture, its scent, his cock distending, stretching until it was jutting out of his body in a painful lance. He brought it to the bed and lay on his side as he spread it across the center of his palm, folding it around himself. He gave an upward stroke, the silk gliding, gliding around him. He tightened his fist and groaned.

And he saw the rosy nipples he’d suckled raw. The light little hands feathering across his body. Green eyes, forest dark with passion. Toni. He tried the word out loud, a low, guttural murmur. “Toni.” His mouth made love to it, and he turned his head to the coverlet and muffled his next words. “Cat . . . oh, kitten, this is me making love to you.This is me loving you.” And he rocked his hips and pulled his heart out.

By the time Louisa Fairchild arrived at the quaint café only blocks away from the RS Corporation building, Toni waited for her by a quiet corner table at the far end. She had been fidgeting with her napkin and utensils, and the relief she felt when she spotted her friend was immediate.

She’d had nonstop anxiety for a week. The feeling wouldn’t leave her, not for a second. It was a heaviness. An anxiousness. Like when she had something to do but couldn’t remember what it was. Like when she and Grey fought. It was there, always. This thought of Heath. This wondering about Heath. This wish that the weekend had never happened, and another that it would have never stopped.

Her smile spread as she watched the slim, sexy blonde slide into the seat across from hers. A friendly face. A familiar face. A female face. God, she was happy to see her.

“Corporate life suits you, Louisa,”Toni said teasingly.

Louisa’s blond hair tumbled lustrously behind her back, and she was dressed as sexily as if she were going out to a nightclub. Toni felt a momentary pang of jealousy at the thought of Grey seeing her every day, especially when Toni sometimes waved him off to work in her pajamas, but she quickly dismissed her concern when her friend laughed. Like they used to laugh in college.

“I’m still such a nervous wreck, but getting better.” Louisa smoothed her napkin on her lap and, remembering to do the same, Toni followed suit.

“How’s Grey treating you?” Toni asked her. “Not too bad, I hope.”

Louisa lifted her gaze, startled.“Oh, no, he’s . . .” Her gaze drifted to the window as though a passerby had caught her eye. “Grey’s wonderful.”

Dreamily,Toni propped her chin on her linked hands.“I’m glad. He’s really a softie, isn’t he?”

The moment she spoke the words, she had an image of Grey cooing at her, touching her, and what went soft was her own body.

“Soft?” Louisa said testily. “Not in appearance or personality. Not with me, I mean.”

Toni smiled.Yes, of course. Soft was the last word you’d use to describe him. Greek god, more likely. Sex with Midas eyes. The only thing soft in relation to Grey Richards was the way Toni felt on the inside when he looked at her. And the way he was when he coddled her. And the way he—

“Well! What are we having?” Louisa surveyed the offerings on the menu. Toni already knew what she would order—the Caesar salad and the chicken parmigiana—but she waited until Louisa finished her perusal and set the menu aside.

“So,” Louisa said. “How was Cabo?”

“Fabulous.We went to a Mexican wedding. It was so lively and interesting. I wore my first mariachi hat, too. Grey said it was wonderful, but Heath said it was ridiculous.”

The waitress interrupted to inform them of the daily specials, and while Louisa inquired about the soup of the day, Toni warred between spilling her guts and attempting to have a normal meal.

Once the waitress jotted down their food orders and left, Louisa fished into the bread basket the waitress had left behind. “So you mentioned Heath.You mean Heath Solis, the—”

“Grey’s partner, yes.”When Louisa made a face,Toni was compelled to ask, “You’ve met him?”

She munched with a thoughtful face. “Once at the office, yes. He’s rude. Gorgeous and rude.”

“Oh, really? Why?”

“He’s just rude. Everyone says so at the office. He gives me the creeps.”

Heath smiling . . . No. I liked your big scared eyes when you said haunting. Heath encouraging . . . Cluck to it, beautiful. Send it a kiss. You’re the boss here. Ask it to trot for you. . . .

Her stomach vaulted, and she dropped her face to hide the color flaming in her cheeks. Absently, she circled a pattern on the linen with the tip of one finger. “What else do they say about him?”

“Well.” Louisa took a sip of water. “That he’s Grey’s attack dog. One of the funny guys calls him the Mastiff. They say he growls like one, too. That he sniffs out lots for Grey, does all the dirty work, that sort of thing.”

“A dog?” Toni slumped back in her seat, flabbergasted. “That isn’t a nice thing to say about someone.”