her cheeks as her lust heightened.“It’s mine, too. I fed it and stoked it, and I want it.” In a bold, unequivocal move, he brought her hand under the table and almost groaned when she held him.“This one’s for you.”
Beneath the light touch of her palm, his crotch was rock. Fire. Hot male dick pulsing against her— for her. “That’s your fire. And I promise you no one’s putting it out but you.”
He’d tried, and nope. He wanted Toni.
Withdrawing her hand with notable hesitation, she gave one last wistful look at her sash.
And Toni pursed those pretty lips just so, and he could see the steel in her eyes when she swung her gaze to his. A challenge.The sweetest challenge he’d been issued in his thirty- five years.To take that shimmering red material. And then her body.
This little she-cat wasn’t fooling around.
With a smile he couldn’t quite suppress, he reached out and enfolded it in his grip. He imagined he was closing his hand around something more intimate of hers. The satin was cool and flimsy, begging him to lift it up to his nose and take a whiff of her perfume. Tonight he’d wrap it around his cock, and he’d play with it, and this weekend . . .
“Cabo?” he asked, the word for Grey.
Grey directed his reply at Toni, with a look so carnal Heath seriously envied the sweaty, headboard-banging, animal-sex session those two had coming.
“Cabo.”
Chapter Five
Ménage . . .
It sang like a chant in her brain. It sang this morning when she slipped into the shower. It sang when she e- mailed her clients to notify them of her three-day absence. It sang when she turned off her computer, tucked her cell phone in her desk drawer, and hauled her suitcase out the door, following Grey.
Ménage . . .
It kept clamoring when Heath Solis, his jeans, his smile, and his plain black T-shirt joined them at the airport, and it screamed in her head as they flew forty thousand feet above the ground in their fine little company jet, a Citation X that soared smooth as a bird and flew faster than any other private aircraft.
Ménage . . .
Grey wanted it. She wanted it. Craved it. The looks they had shared the entire week were charged with it. The knowledge that they would do this. Together. It had been with them all week, in their sex, their looks, their touches.
Ménage.
He had her primed. He had her ready. He had touched her all week, and every time her orgasm approached, he’d halt.
With Heath’s sinfully sexy body lounging at her right and Grey decadently gorgeous facing her, it was difficult not to turn liquid.
As soon as they’d boarded, Heath had popped two pills into his mouth, guzzled an entire liter of water, and propped his head on his hand. Noticing that he seemed to fall instantly asleep, she and Grey had each picked up a book to read quietly.
Every time she peeked at him through the tops of the pages, he glanced up, too. In tan Dockers and a white polo, jaw rough with earthy stubble, hair slightly mussed, he looked rugged and unkempt today. A golden Midas fallen from grace.
She wanted him.
She wanted Heath Solis.
She still could not believe Grey had only yesterday mentioned the man was bisexual.
Snuggled on the couch as he watched the football game, he’d made a casual remark about Heath being bi, and Toni had jumped. Heath is bisexual? Grey had waved it off as if he were discussing the most boring, most inconsequential topic ever. But Toni could not think of anything else all evening. Oh, she’d known that man was bad. Bad, bad, bad. She’d pressed her legs together so, so tight at a visual her mind suddenly conjured. “I didn’t know.”
“Now you do.”
“Did you and he—”
Grey had chuckled softly. “I’m not bisexual, baby. He is.”
Now Toni continued to wonder what kind of confused woman found a bisexual man attractive.
The same kind who’d have a threesome.
As soon as they landed, Grey stored his Harlan Coben in a glossy wooden plane compartment, and Toni
Beneath the light touch of her palm, his crotch was rock. Fire. Hot male dick pulsing against her— for her. “That’s your fire. And I promise you no one’s putting it out but you.”
He’d tried, and nope. He wanted Toni.
Withdrawing her hand with notable hesitation, she gave one last wistful look at her sash.
And Toni pursed those pretty lips just so, and he could see the steel in her eyes when she swung her gaze to his. A challenge.The sweetest challenge he’d been issued in his thirty- five years.To take that shimmering red material. And then her body.
This little she-cat wasn’t fooling around.
With a smile he couldn’t quite suppress, he reached out and enfolded it in his grip. He imagined he was closing his hand around something more intimate of hers. The satin was cool and flimsy, begging him to lift it up to his nose and take a whiff of her perfume. Tonight he’d wrap it around his cock, and he’d play with it, and this weekend . . .
“Cabo?” he asked, the word for Grey.
Grey directed his reply at Toni, with a look so carnal Heath seriously envied the sweaty, headboard-banging, animal-sex session those two had coming.
“Cabo.”
Chapter Five
Ménage . . .
It sang like a chant in her brain. It sang this morning when she slipped into the shower. It sang when she e- mailed her clients to notify them of her three-day absence. It sang when she turned off her computer, tucked her cell phone in her desk drawer, and hauled her suitcase out the door, following Grey.
Ménage . . .
It kept clamoring when Heath Solis, his jeans, his smile, and his plain black T-shirt joined them at the airport, and it screamed in her head as they flew forty thousand feet above the ground in their fine little company jet, a Citation X that soared smooth as a bird and flew faster than any other private aircraft.
Ménage . . .
Grey wanted it. She wanted it. Craved it. The looks they had shared the entire week were charged with it. The knowledge that they would do this. Together. It had been with them all week, in their sex, their looks, their touches.
Ménage.
He had her primed. He had her ready. He had touched her all week, and every time her orgasm approached, he’d halt.
With Heath’s sinfully sexy body lounging at her right and Grey decadently gorgeous facing her, it was difficult not to turn liquid.
As soon as they’d boarded, Heath had popped two pills into his mouth, guzzled an entire liter of water, and propped his head on his hand. Noticing that he seemed to fall instantly asleep, she and Grey had each picked up a book to read quietly.
Every time she peeked at him through the tops of the pages, he glanced up, too. In tan Dockers and a white polo, jaw rough with earthy stubble, hair slightly mussed, he looked rugged and unkempt today. A golden Midas fallen from grace.
She wanted him.
She wanted Heath Solis.
She still could not believe Grey had only yesterday mentioned the man was bisexual.
Snuggled on the couch as he watched the football game, he’d made a casual remark about Heath being bi, and Toni had jumped. Heath is bisexual? Grey had waved it off as if he were discussing the most boring, most inconsequential topic ever. But Toni could not think of anything else all evening. Oh, she’d known that man was bad. Bad, bad, bad. She’d pressed her legs together so, so tight at a visual her mind suddenly conjured. “I didn’t know.”
“Now you do.”
“Did you and he—”
Grey had chuckled softly. “I’m not bisexual, baby. He is.”
Now Toni continued to wonder what kind of confused woman found a bisexual man attractive.
The same kind who’d have a threesome.
As soon as they landed, Grey stored his Harlan Coben in a glossy wooden plane compartment, and Toni
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