But an inexplicable urge to shield her from
whatever plagued her and a primitive instinct to claim her attention were no
excuse for kissing her. She knew better than to toy with women who weren’t open
to being toyed with, and Emily was one of those. She didn’t give off a single
player vibe, nor had she given any indication she wanted to be kissed. Derian
was good at ferreting out signals, at reading seduction in apparent disinterest
that merely invited her to the chase, and she never pressed where she wasn’t
wanted. She hadn’t been thinking about sex when she’d given in to the impulse
to taste, she’d only been thinking about another touch—another incendiary
instant of contact that shook her more than the most abandoned encounter. This
time, she’d been the one pressed by desire, driven to break her own rules by an
unfamiliar need to stir in Emily the same kind of yearning that stirred in her.
Emily had said she wasn’t offended by the
kiss, but taking liberties wasn’t like her. Derian didn’t want to stray into
those waters again. A woman, especially Henrietta’s protégé, who could so
easily make her forget all the reasons why she only played with players, had
danger written all over her. No—Emily was too close to home, too dangerous in
her appeal, too altogether beyond the safety zone.
“I can’t say I’ve ever done this before,”
Emily said, glancing over her shoulder to watch Derian approach with the cart.
“What’s that?” Derian asked, promptly
forgetting her resolution to stay away. Emily had a way of looking at her with
such absolute clarity, as if the screen Derian placed between herself and the
rest of the world was completely invisible. Her skin heated as if Emily touched
her simply by looking. Most women couldn’t touch her even when they were naked
together.
“Had dinner in such a beautiful place, with a
view like this.” Emily swept her hand toward the window and the glittering
night.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I do,” Emily said softly. “Thank you.”
The quiet thrum of pleasure in her voice made
Derian’s blood pound. She cleared her throat. “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered
for us. You’re not allergic to anything or averse to particular foods?”
“Actually, I’m gluten, dairy, meat, carb, and
acidic free.”
“Well, I ordered sparkling water. That should
be safe.”
Emily laughed. “I’m mostly vegetarian, but I
confess to succumbing to a good steak now and then. I live for pasta and never
met a seafood dish I didn’t like. I’m sure whatever you ordered is fine.”
Derian began to uncover the chafing dishes.
“That was unkind.”