The_Color_of_Love_-_Radclyffe (Рэдклифф) - страница 89

“And is that what your life is like?”

Derian sighed, glancing out the window as twilight crept across the park, blurring the shadows of pedestrians into formless shapes. “My life passes by so quickly, I don’t really notice.”

“I imagine a steady diet of excitement and adventure would be like that,” Emily mused, not sounding critical but more contemplative. “I think it must be tiring, never to have a moment to reflect.”

“I think that’s exactly the point.”

“And yet you’re here,” Emily said. “You left all that behind without hesitation. I can tell you’re not happy to be here, but you came despite that. Out of loyalty and love. To me, that’s substance.”

Derian released Emily’s hand and lifted the teacup, cradling the small beautiful object of art in her palm. “Staying in the first place might have been more impressive.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with searching out the life you want,” Emily said. “I take it you left because that wasn’t here.”

“I don’t know,” Derian said. “I’m afraid I was too angry to ask myself if there was anything here I wanted.”

“Well,” Emily said softly, “you’re here now.”

“Yes,” Derian said, savoring the delicate beauty of the woman across from her. “I am here now.”

Suddenly self-conscious and afraid her enjoyment of Derian’s attention would be far too obvious, Emily rose to clear the table. “Why don’t you pour the rest of the wine, and I’ll meet you in the living room in just a minute.”

Derian rose with her. “Let me help you.”

“Absolutely not.” Emily gave Derian’s shoulder a playful shove, appreciating the play of muscles beneath her fingers. “Guest, remember?”

“If you insist.” Derian filled the glasses, set them on a coffee table opposite an ornate white marble fireplace with a broad mantel bearing filigreed candlesticks at either end, and settled into a comfortable floral-patterned overstuffed sofa.

Less than a minute later when Emily sat down, her scent, light and spicy as a fragrant tea, teased at Derian’s senses. A different kind of hunger emerged, sharp and demanding. “Thank you for dinner. It was one of the most enjoyable meals I’ve had in a very long time.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“The food was delicious,” Derian said, placing her wineglass carefully back on the table. She slid closer until the outside of her thigh touched Emily’s. When Emily didn’t draw away, but just looked at her with the question in her eyes, Derian framed her face with both hands. “But it was the company that made it so special.”

This time when she kissed her, it wasn’t fleeting, and she didn’t ask permission. She didn’t wait to be invited. She’d wanted to kiss her since she’d walked in the door, and pretending otherwise was fruitless and self-deluding. Emily’s mouth was soft and sweet and delectable as the finest wine. When Emily made a small surprised sound of pleasure, Derian’s heart leapt into her throat. A surge of want so powerful her thighs tightened shot through her. She slid her hand around to Emily’s nape, soft hair gliding over the top of her hand, and drew her closer until their bodies touched. Emily’s breasts pressed into her, firm and compelling.