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He saw Grey’s groin, a mountain of need against his trousers, and Heath knew he was going to come just from kissing her. His hips made the slightest, barely perceptible swivel, and his fingers moved up and down the back of her head as they slanted their heads, their mouths red and sloppy with saliva.
He’d never find a woman, and he’d thought Grey never would, either.They were each impaired in their own way, and yet . . .
Heath had been wrong. Grey had found Toni, and Heath would never have that kind of pure, sweet, beautiful love with her. Face it: you don’t inspire love. Across the smoky room, a group of women stared. They scanned the three of them—Heath,Toni, Grey—and their attention returned to Heath.They gauged him as the third. Grey and Toni the couple, Heath the third wheel looking for a mate.
He did not want to be the third.
He caught the sight of Grey coming, his fingers flexing on the back of her head, hands tensing into fists. His body shuddered, and a wetness seeped through the fabric of his slacks.
No kissing, damn him. Heath would give anything to feel the heat of Toni’s lips. Take something sweet from her, not wicked or dirty or blatantly sexual—just a kiss.
“Darling.” Grey chuckled as they drew apart, smiling down at her as she lifted her head to his.
She caressed his jaw with those little magic fingers, speaking huskily to him so that Heath barely overheard. “I love it when you do that, let go with me like that.”
To her words, Grey just said,“Hmm,” and kissed her lingeringly, and she whispered, “I love you.”
Heath blocked their conversation, took his eyes to the dance floor and lifted his beer to his mouth. He took a long swig. Set the glass down and moved his thumbs up and down. Drummed the fingers of one hand on the table.
Grey said something about having to go clean up, and within seconds he disappeared into the crowd.
Toni straightened in her seat, and an awkward silence settled in the booth. Her eyes landed on Heath’s hands cradling his beer. She wanted them on her. She wanted to make out with and French-kiss Heath, too.
He knew it, felt her wanting him. His heart thundered with this knowledge, louder than the music, ramming in fast, vigorous beats against his ribs.
“You’re so quiet tonight.” A cool hand was on his cheek, turning him. “Are you all right?” Green eyes studied him.
“Yeah.”
She didn’t buy it and scrutinized him for a moment more, but then she smiled. She was so sweet, so female and caring.“I thought we were going to dance?”
Dance with her. Like they danced in the buff and in bed.Touch her without Grey there. Want her more, more than yesterday, more than before. Shit.
When they got home . . . he was going to tear off her dress . . . he was going to unleash this beast and he was going pour all this need and jealousy into her....
“I don’t like that song,” he bluntly stated.
He signaled to a waiter for another beer and asked for her Baileys to be refilled.The smoke stung his eyes, tickled his nostrils.And through it all he could still smell her pussy under her dress. A pussy that was wet for Grey, wet for Heath, just plain wet for cock.
He cupped her bare knee and tried feeling his way up that toned, creamy leg, but Toni began flirting, evading, clamping her hand on his wrist to stop him. Her teeth shone white behind her smile. “Where do you think you’re going, Señor Heathcliff?”
“Let me touch your pussy.”
“But that’s the game. You know I’m wet under my dress, but you don’t touch until we get home.”
“It’s torture for me.” Tomorrow I can’t see you or feel you, and I can’t goddamned kiss you.
He was not in the mood to be played. He tried again, inching three determined fingers under her skirt, consumed by a wildness to touch her. “I need pussy and I need it now.”
“Heathcliff, behave!” she chastised, extracting his hand with force before she rubbed her palms up his chest and whispered,“We can kiss, Heath.” She placed those lips of hers right within an inch of his. “Kiss me and I’ll make you come like Grey, I promise.” He could smell sweetness and alcohol on her breath, and he didn’t know how he could stand not taking that mouth. He yanked his head away, assessed the crowd with a disinterested glance, and then noticed a pretty brunet coming over.
“¿Quieres bailar?”
Dance? Fuck. Yes. Dance with another woman, one who did not belong to someone else. Heath could kiss her, slam her against the wall, and fuck until his dick bled. This was Heath Solis underneath it all—underneath the face and the eyes and the many kinds of smiles. He was as unstable as he’d ever remembered being. He was that angry, rebellious kid who’d told the world to go screw itself.
Except he did not want to ditch Cabo, or Toni, even when leaving was all he knew how to do.
And yet nobody would want him to stay.
