The Color of Love (27 page)

Derian stilled, every sense focused on
feeling her, hearing her, seeing her come apart with pleasure. When Emily gave
herself over, the moment was forever and swifter than a heartbeat. So powerful,
so exquisitely perfect.

“More,” Derian whispered and slid down to
take her into her mouth. Emily’s hands came into her hair and she surged into
Derian’s mouth. Derian teased her, stroked her, took her to the edge and over
again. Emily’s wild cry rifled down her spine, fired her blood. She wanted
never to move, but the pull of Emily’s hands on her shoulders drew her upward
and then somehow she was on her back.

Emily straddled her thighs and leaned down to
kiss her, her hair a soft curtain around Derian’s face. She clasped Emily’s
hips, guided her back and forth in a slow roll against her as they kissed.
Emily came again in short, ecstatic thrusts against Derian’s stomach. Derian rose
up and cradled her in the curve of her body. She kissed her, stroked the damp
hair from her cheek. “You’re amazing.”

Emily laughed weakly. “I think that’s my
line.”

“No line,” Derian whispered, kissing her
closed lids, her mouth, her neck. Emily made soft contented sighs, caressing
Derian’s breasts and belly. Derian shuddered. “And you’re pretty much driving
me crazy.”

“My turn,” Emily said in a throaty commanding
tone. She pressed her hand to the center of Derian’s chest and pushed her down.
Still curled beside her, her hair spread out on Derian’s chest, she kissed her
throat and stroked her chest and belly and cupped between her thighs.

“I love the way you touch me.” Never had
Derian wanted so much to be taken.

Emily gave another of those contented sounds,
her mouth traveling over Derian’s breasts as her fingers closed around her and
tugged in slow, sure motions. Derian gritted her teeth, incredibly close but
willing herself to hold on. Somehow Emily knew just how fast and how far to
take her, until every muscle was poised to explode, and then she’d let her down
just enough to keep her on the brink. Once, twice, three times she brought her
within a heartbeat.

And then Derian begged. “Please, don’t stop
this time.”

Emily gathered Derian close, her mouth a
breath from Derian’s. “I won’t.”

Emily kissed her then, a kiss to steal her
breath, a kiss to steal her reason, a kiss to steal her old life and take her
to a place she’d never been. Derian came hard, she came helplessly, trembling
in Emily’s arms.

Derian woke at dawn with Emily spooned against her,
back to front. Her arm was around Emily’s waist, her cheek nuzzled against
Emily’s nape. Chestnut hair twined across her face. The oddest sensations,
contradictory yet forged into a single flame, fired her blood. Contentment,
warm and soothing, along with banked desire, edgy and wanting. Kissing the back
of Emily’s neck, she lightly stroked Emily’s breasts and abdomen, fingers
drifting lazily. Pieces of the night played through her mind—Emily moving
beneath her, sharp cries of pleasure, pleas for more and again. Emily riding
her, stroking her, taking her—surely and without reserve. Derian’s clit pulsed
and she groaned, sliding a hand between Emily’s thighs. She was warm and wet.

Emily gave a pleased murmur and pressed her
hand over Derian’s, rocking her hips into the curve of Derian’s body. Derian’s
contentment rapidly gave way to consuming craving.

“That’s a nice way to wake up,” Emily said
drowsily.

Derian kissed a spot below Emily’s ear she’d
discovered the previous night that Emily liked very much. The swift gasp of
breath encouraged her to keep going, turning Emily gently onto her back to
claim her mouth. She eased on top of her, keeping her weight on her arms, and
indulged herself.

Emily nipped at Derian’s earlobe. “If this is
what you’re like in the morning, I’m very glad you stayed.”

“It’s a new experience for me,” Derian said,
making her way down Emily’s neck to her breasts. She rubbed her cheek against
Emily’s rapidly hardening nipple. “And one I like very much.”

Emily loved the weight of Derian’s body over
hers, the sensation one of equal parts owning and being owned. Stroking both
hands over Derian’s shoulders and down the arch of her back, she clasped
Derian’s hips and wrapped her legs over Derian’s. Their bodies fit together as
if they’d joined a thousand times, but the excitement racing through her was as
great as the first instant they’d touched. “I’m afraid you may have unleashed a
demon.”

Derian chuckled and slid a little lower. “I
certainly hope so.”

Thought fled as Derian’s mouth awakened her.
Emily gripped the sheets when she could no longer reach Derian, her body open
and vulnerable and alive with anticipation. Derian’s groan, a low rumble of
possessive pleasure, shot through her, stirring her even more than the
impossible glory of Derian taking her with her mouth and hands. How could every
move be so perfectly timed, unerringly stroking and pushing her to places she
had never realized she could go?

“I love touching you,” Derian muttered. “You
feel so damn good.”

The words, as powerful as Derian’s touch,
thrilled Emily to the core. Derian’s delight in her was as wild and wonderful
as the orgasm unfurling inside her. She cried out, her back arched, her legs
taut, and felt Derian’s fingers entwined with hers. She held on to the slender
tether while her body, her very essence, took flight.

“I can’t keep coming like that,” she gasped
at last. “I’ll disappear.”

“Oh no, you won’t.” Derian kissed her and
sent another aftershock spinning over her. “I won’t let you.”

Emily drifted and almost fell asleep, until a
hard, hot body pressed against her. She dragged herself back to reality and
opened her eyes. Derian lounged beside her, her head propped on her elbow and a
supremely self-satisfied smile on her face.

Emily laughed. “Have I ever mentioned you’re
the most arrogant woman I’ve ever met?”

Derian kissed her lightly. “I’m wounded.”

“You’re wonderful.” Emily lightly scraped her
nails down the center of Derian’s abdomen.

Derian’s eyes grew smoky. “Only if you think
so.”

Emily pushed Derian onto her back. “I do, but
don’t let it go to your head.”

“Right now, I’d agree to anything.” Derian’s
voice was husky, her muscles twitching wherever Emily teased.

“Really?” Emily had never imagined the thrill
of possessing a woman, of filling her hands with beauty and passion and
vulnerability. She snugged between Derian’s thighs and, starting with her
breasts, worked her way slowly down the center of her bowstring taut body,
kissing and nipping and sating her every urge.

Derian groaned, determined to let Emily take
what she wanted and praying she could last. The waiting was excruciating. The
sounds torn from her throat were unlike anything she’d ever heard before. When
Emily’s lips closed around her, white lightning burst inside her head,
incinerating every thought. A second later, she was lost.

“I’m sorry,” Derian finally said, aware her
cheek had somehow come to be nestled against Emily’s breast. “I’m not usually
so quick off the block.”

Elated, Emily kissed the top of her head. “I
thought it was unbelievably sexy.”

Derian tilted her head, caught the gratified
smile. “You seem to do very unexpected things to me.”

“Do I,” Emily said with a low purr. “Good
things?”

“Fabulous things.”

“Mmm. That’s handy, since I really want to do
it again.”

Derian laughed and started to sit up.

Emily’s arm tightened around her shoulders.
“Stay a minute. I like you there.”

Derian stilled, unused to being held by
women. She wasn’t used to being possessed, and she damn sure wasn’t used to
being controlled in bed. Until Emily. Giving Emily whatever she wanted,
including her body and her will, had suddenly become her greatest pleasure. She
sighed. Why fight what felt so damn good? “I would be happy to stay here the
entire day, but I want to go with Henrietta to her rehab appointment.”

“You have to go—or else she’ll browbeat them
into shortening her program. Besides, it’s a workday and I should get going
too.” Emily rested her cheek against Derian’s head. “Although I don’t know how
I’m going to concentrate on any of it. I can’t seem to think of anything
except…”

Derian finally had enough energy to sit up
and dragged Emily into her lap. “Except?”

Emily kissed her. “More.”

“There’s always more.”

“I’m very glad to hear that.”

Derian nuzzled her throat. “How about now?”

“Oh, that’s nice. A nice thought, I mean.”
Emily laughed. “And if you keep doing that, you’re going to get me started
again.”

Undeterred, Derian muttered, “I’m afraid
that’s not going to make me want to stop.”

Halfheartedly, Emily gripped her hair.
“Later?”

“When?” Derian said instantly. The idea of
being apart from her was strangely disturbing. She didn’t want to stop touching
her. Hell, she didn’t want to let her out of her sight. She had no idea what to
make of that.

“Come to dinner,” Emily said. “We still
haven’t had the red.”

“I’m sorry if we ruined last night’s bottle.”

“I stoppered it. Not form, I know, but it
will probably be fine.”

Derian frowned. “When?”

“When you fell asleep.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t feel you get out of
bed.”

Emily kissed her lightly. “You were sleeping
pretty heavily. By the way, I like watching you sleep.”

“Uh…okay. Good, I think.”

“Mmm. Very good.” Emily hopped out of bed,
just managing to escape Derian’s grasping hand. “Stop.”

Derian groaned.

“If I stay, I’m going to want you inside me
again, and you need to waylay Henrietta before she makes some kind of end run.”

“You’re really trying to kill me, aren’t
you?”

“I know you’re tougher than that.” Emily
leaned down, her breasts brushing Derian’s shoulder, and kissed her. “You can
always join me in the shower.”

“Not if you want to go to work anytime soon.
Like in the next week.” Derian grabbed Emily’s hand. “I’ll be thinking about
tonight all day.”

“So will I.”

*

Emily was determined to get some work done,
even though she couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. She thought
she’d known what it was like to make love with a woman, but she hadn’t even
begun to fathom the addictive, exquisite exhilaration of bringing Derian
pleasure. She loved knowing Derian desired her, loved running her hands over
Derian’s body, loved answering Derian’s need. She loved seeing her passion
reflected, her hunger met and matched. All she could think was again. Again.
Again. Again.

“Hello-o-o,” Ron called from the doorway.

With a start, Emily said, “Oh. Hi.”

“For a second, I thought you were sleeping,
but your eyes were open.” Ron came in and dropped into his usual pose in the
chair, elbow on knee, chin in his hand, studying her. “Tell me everything about
last night.”

Emily’s face flamed. “Last night? Weren’t you
there?”

Ron made a
pfft
sound. “I don’t mean the awards. What about all the rest—insider gossip, you
know, the good stuff. You must have gotten something juicy.”

“Oh,” Emily said, struggling furiously to
focus. “Yes. No. I mean, yes, I went. But you know how it is. The usual
suspects, the usual topics of discussion. Nothing really new.”

“How disappointing.” Ron flopped back and
sighed. “Not much surprise with the winners either. I don’t know why I keep
hoping every once in a while they’ll actually pick the best book instead of the
most politically advantageous one.”

Emily laughed. “Yes, well, we’ll probably
have world peace at any moment too.”

Ron snorted. “How did Derian behave?”

“Derian?”

“Yes, you know the one I mean, Derian
Winfield, our boss? The woman glued to your side all night long?”

“Oh, Derian. She was fine.”

“I think you’d better elaborate,” Ron said
slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Because something obviously happened. You seem a
little dazed and confused.”

Emily glanced at the open door. She didn’t
want to have a personal conversation about Derian in the office, and she didn’t
want to tell Ron she’d slept with her either. She wasn’t falling back on false
modesty, she wasn’t that precious. But Derian was their boss, even if just
temporarily, and it didn’t look good for either one of them if people knew. She
wasn’t as concerned about her own reputation as much as she wanted to protect
Derian’s. She already knew most people thought Derian was a self-absorbed
player, and she knew that was far from the truth. Unfortunately, false
impressions were often the hardest to change. She looked at Ron. “Derian was
absolutely fine.”

“And that’s it?”

Emily smiled. “That pretty much covers it.”

“You’ll tell me the rest one day soon,
right?” Ron asked knowingly.

“When the time is right,” Emily promised,
although she had no idea when that might be. Or even how she would know. She’d
vowed not to think beyond the moment, which twenty-four hours ago had seemed
like a reasonable decision, but that was a promise she was finding harder to
keep by the moment. Any relationship with Derian could only be temporary. Now
all she had to do was convince herself of that.

Derian settled onto a couch in the family area
adjoining the gym, replete with treadmills, exercise benches, workout mats, and
stationary bikes, where Henrietta was starting her rehab program. She could see
HW, decked out in matching sweatpants and sweatshirt with NYU emblazoned in big
bold letters, through the windows that spanned the top half of the wall
separating the two rooms. Compared to many, no,
most
of the other rehab patients, HW
looked hale and hearty. No one who didn’t know her would realize her steps were
slower than her usual near-running pace, or that she was a little unsteady
getting up from a chair. Her voice probably sounded normal to other people, but
to Derian’s ear she was a bit on the quiet side. All things considered, though,
her aunt looked great. The doctors had cautioned Henrietta at the last visit
not to push too fast just because she seemed to be recovering very quickly.
Henrietta, of course, countered that her job was a desk job and was no more
strenuous than sitting at home. Derian, who’d insisted on going with her, had
pointed out HW was rarely behind her desk but more often running off to
meetings, conferences, and power lunches. Fortunately, the doctors hadn’t been
that easily hoodwinked and had instructed Henrietta to stick to the rehab
schedule.