“This should be ready now,” Emily said,
pointing to the merlot she’d left open to breathe on the counter.
“Emily,” Derian whispered, catching her in a
gentle grip and turning her around.
Caught in the undertow of Derian’s gaze,
Emily stilled.
“What about you?”
Ready? Oh yes, she was ready. For what,
beyond needing to touch and be touched, with this woman, by this woman, she
didn’t know. And didn’t care. All was now. “Yes.”
Derian’s kiss began with a slow, commanding
press of her mouth, one hand on the back of Emily’s neck and her arm around
Emily’s waist. Emily knew this kiss, remembered it in her bones. She went into
Derian’s arms easily, naturally, sliding both arms around her shoulders. The
kiss went on forever while they swayed together, everything receding from her
awareness but the taste of Derian’s desire, and her own restless hunger. When
they broke apart, she was gasping. She wanted another kiss, she wanted the
unknown that lay beyond it. She tightened her hold on Derian, brushed her lips
over Derian’s throat.
“Have I mentioned I love your kisses?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“I do—and I’d like more.”
“Tell me we can have the wine in bed,” Derian
said, her voice a low growl. She brushed her fingers through Emily’s hair,
exposing her neck as she kissed the angle of her jaw, her throat, the hollow
above her collarbone. Her grip was possessive, demanding. “Please.”
Emily closed her eyes and let her head fall
back, content for Derian to feast. Her breasts ached to be caressed, her flesh
craved to be owned. Her belly was tight, the heat between her thighs spreading
like wildfire. “Yes.”
“Where?”
“This way.” Emily caught Derian’s hand and
led her into the bedroom. The tall windows let in enough light to see by, and
she turned, gripped Derian’s jacket, and pushed it from her shoulders. “I’ve
dreamed of seeing you naked.”
“Haven’t you already?” Derian let Emily strip
the jacket down her arms and reached for the buttons on her shirt.
“Well, I have seen you naked,” Emily said, brushing
Derian’s hands away to continue opening the buttons herself. “The dreams were
more about where and how and what we’d be doing.”
“I hope the reality—”
Emily kissed her into silence. Derian stood
still, letting her have her way, and the thrill of possession broke over her.
Never had she imagined such pleasure. Her hands trembled with the power as she
pushed the crisp edges of Derian’s dress shirt open and kissed the hollow of
her throat. “Oh, believe me, the reality is far, far better.”
“For me too,” Derian murmured, a note of
wonder in her voice.