Page 3 of The Satin Sash


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She stole a glance at Grey, surrounded by a group of older men and women. He’d promised to introduce her to his partner tonight, but judging by the avid conversation around him, it didn’t seem like it would happen soon.

Her gaze slid back to the tanned, tall stranger as the woman patted his broad, square shoulder and continued on her way.

Heath lifted his head, his eyes returning to her—as dark and tenebrous as what Grey had said of his past—and for a moment everything faded except that aggressive black stare.

Her heart thundered in her ears, drowning all music, all sound. This had happened before. Across an office desk, when Grey had leveled that cool amber gaze on hers,Toni had been taken.Was still taken by Grey. Absolutely. Completely. Damn it. Why couldn’t she breathe?

He advanced. So slowly she might have made an escape if she’d had an ounce of inclination. As it was, faced with six feet three inches of testosterone approaching, she could barely drag in air. Her pussy gave a little spasm, and her throat closed as she tried to swallow.

His jaw was all square bone; his eyes glimmered under the somber slashes of his eyebrows.The arrogant slant of his nose was barely softened by the plump sensuality of his lips. And those lips were curling slowly, almost sarcastically.

The cruel sexiness of that smile blasted her with a shot of pure, unadulterated lust. A lust Toni had felt for no one but Grey. Until this moment, this man. He was awesome. Bad and primal and animal.

There were whispers. People noticed him as one would notice a storm, a hit man, danger.Yet she could not take her eyes off him for long enough to turn and appease the gossipers around her.

His scent reached her before his hand did. He smelled of earth and rain and tree bark, and the aroma made her head spin. Without a word, he engulfed her hand in his hot one and dragged her through the throng of people with single-minded purpose.

Almost stumbling on her dress as she tried to keep up, she was shocked that he didn’t release her when she tried to pull free. “What—what are you doing?”

He paused once they were safely in the middle of the dance floor, flanked by dancers.

“You wanted me to ask you to dance.” His hands slid to the small of her back, drawing her to the incredibly hard wall of his body. “So I’m asking.”

Toni had heard his voice over the phone. Sometimes milky and soothing like Baileys, other times rumbling like thunder.The thunder now skimmed over her skin like the very satin of her evening gown. He could’ve been Grey for the effect he had on her—and no one made her feel like Grey did.

She felt a moment of panic when his thigh slipped between hers.Their bodies touched from knees to chest; his rock-hard, hers malleable. Flames licked her on the inside, her pussy watering between her legs, naked under her dress.

The moment the top of his bulging thigh brushed her clit through the material, she thought she’d burst. “I- I don’t think you understand. I’m—”

“I know who you are.” With a dangerous smile, he slid his hands to the small of her back, the tip of his long fingers resting on the top of her butt. “You’re Grey’s girl.” And in her ear, “His record.”

The obvious bait brought a smile to her lips as she raised her eyes to his. “And am I supposed to know who you are?”

“You should.” He cupped her rear intimately and an odd little sound escaped her, more like a whimper than a gasp. He grunted, as though pleased, and raised one hand to tug at the satin sash around her throat. The sinuous glide of fabric teased the back of her neck as he bent to whisper in her ear, “I’m your worst nightmare.”

And maybe he was . . .

When a large, possessive hand curled around her elbow, jolting her back to the present, she knew it.

Even before she heard Grey’s voice. “We need to talk.”

We need to talk.

He said nothing else after he dragged her aside at the benefit to utter those hushed, spine-tingling words.They’d been accompanied by the most glacial stare Toni had ever seen, and Grey wasn’t known for his warmth.

The ride to her place was rife with tension, and the piercing looks Grey sent her way made her all too aware of her missing sash.

Her throat had never felt so bare.

And Toni had never felt so miserable.

Staring out at the sea of headlights dotting the street, she fiddled with her hands above her lap and wished she could find it in herself to entertain him the way she usually did after these events.

She could tell him how the senator had asked her name five times tonight, her age another seven. How the pepper steak had caused the old woman at their table to turn a particular beet red. But her throat felt too tight and her stomach knotted.

Tonight . . .

Nothing about tonight was funny. Least of all the thought, the mere possibility, of losing Grey.

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