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And Grey would not forget that. He could not live with that. And what most ripped at him, most infuriated him for making himself this vulnerable, was that no matter who else she wanted, he still wanted her.
Toni woke to find the bedroom empty—after an eternal, unsettling night. As she lay in bed, batting her eyes open, yesterday’s events crystallized in her mind with a suddenness that made her jolt.
She jerked upright and looked around, an ache spreading through her chest. “Grey?”
Faint light from the hall filtered through the tiny slit at the bottom of the door. She sighed as she got out of bed, brushed her teeth, combed the tangles from her hair, then padded out into the kitchen.
He was bent over the dining table, the newspaper splayed across the table before him. Covering his long, muscled legs was a pair of cotton drawstring pants that rode low on his hips. His bare torso revealed each of the tautly marked muscles on his back—every ridge, dent, plane. All a woman could think of at the sight was touching. His blond-streaked hair was mussed, and she ached to tousle it even more.
Would he pull away if she did? Was he angry, shocked, disappointed?
Her stomach gripped. “Want some eggs?” she asked.
For two years they’d shared breakfast in companionable silence, but now Toni needed to gauge him, and the need to talk was eating her raw.
Grey lifted his coffee cup, but not his head. “Got all I need.”
She puttered around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors. “Toast?”
“Later.”
Her back to him, Toni nonchalantly dropped a slice of wheat bread into the toaster.
“So. Anything interesting?”
She glanced past her shoulder to find Grey checking her out, particularly interested in her ass. He caught her watching him and cocked a brow at the amusement in her eyes before turning his attention back to the paper. “Not really,” he said.
Her smile was sheepish. “You mean, not really as interesting as my ass?”
The rich, rumbling sound of his chuckle made her knees weak. “That’s what I meant.”
Her smile widened as she turned back to pull out a plate from the cabinet. She loved it when she caught him staring at her. She loved . . . him. Every bitty thing. Even his annoying arrogance.
Her toast popped up the second her groggy mind registered something important, and she pivoted around to stare.
Her satin sash was wantonly draped around Grey’s thick wrist, and as he calmly read the paper, his fingers were playing with the tip.
Panic seized her, and she went deathly still. How on earth did he . . . ?
He raised his head and caught sight of her rooted to the spot like someone about to be beheaded. The two little creases at the corner of his eyes deepened.
Toni could almost see the wheels in his brain spinning, twirling like the shimmering fabric coiled around his wrist.
Struggling for calm while her lungs were twisting, she quickly crossed the kitchen and slipped between the table and him, settling on his lap.
“Grey.” She was swamped with love for him. Desperate to comfort him. If she didn’t get this out in the open, there was no telling how it would tear them apart. “It was one dance. It doesn’t mean anything.”
His rich whiskey eyes slid away from hers, and he reached around her to fold the paper in half. “It does to me.”
She rubbed her hand up the m
uscles in his chest, pausing over the place where his heart beat steadily. “Surely it has happened to you—a beautiful woman catching your attention, even if you’re with me.”
His face was beautiful; the sensual lips, the patrician nose, the stubborn jaw. Beautiful and impassive. “It hasn’t happened to me.”
Desperate, Toni edged closer to him, gingerly kissing the corners of his lips, so plump but disappointingly unmoving under hers. “I wanted to be truthful with you.”
The red sash fluttered to the floor. One hulky arm went around her, securing her against him as he tipped her chin so she would meet his gaze. “I don’t want anything between us, much less lies.”
