by Radclyffe
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.
Chapter Twenty-five
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.
HW wasn’t supposed to be back in the office full-time for at least another six weeks, but Derian doubted they’d be able to prevent her from working part-time for much longer than another two. She wouldn’t mind when Henrietta moved back behind the desk where she belonged, and doubly glad that someday Emily should rightfully take that seat. Her brief stint as the interim CEO had been more than enough to convince her she wasn’t cut out for helming the ship. As to what she was cut out for, she didn’t know and, before now, she’d never really cared to try. She’d avoided making any kind of long-range plans since she’d graduated from college. Her only goal then had been to put as much distance as possible between Martin and herself as quickly as possible. That hadn’t required much in the way of thought, another thing she’d tried to avoid as much as possible. Being without a purpose was not the Winfield way, which was probably exactly why she had chosen that lifestyle.
She hadn’t been idle, but she hadn’t been living a conventional life either. Sure, she’d profited by putting her money behind the right racing teams, investing wisely, and having a natural affinity for winning at the tables. Those successes hadn’t been planned so much as fallen into. Being able to look at things from a distance now, she realized she’d spent all her life trying to be anything but a Winfield and doing anything that wasn’t the Winfield way. Sometimes, maybe, she’d gotten in the way of her own satisfaction without realizing it. Working at the agency had been a surprise—especially when she’d discovered she enjoyed being part of the team. Now that her tenure was ending, she was unexpectedly disappointed to be leaving. True, not seeing Emily every day was a big part of that, but she’d miss the spirit and passion of the place too.
A nurse walked Henrietta back into the waiting area and Derian got to her feet. “Tired out already?”
The nurse looked aghast, but Henrietta merely laughed. “I could go a few more rounds but my therapist called it quits.” She thanked the nurse and took Derian’s arm. Her grip was strong and firm. “Are you taking me to lunch? That’s within the bounds of the program, isn’t it?”
Derian laughed. “It’s not a prison sentence, HW.”
“You should try it sometime and see what you have to say after a few days.”
“Point taken.” She’d ordered up one of the company cars and it was waiting in the entranceway when they walked out. “Anyplace special you’d like to go?”
“Fortunately, I’m still allowed to eat. Let’s do Junior’s.”
“I’ll call and get us a spot.”
They arrived at the diner a little before the lunch hour and secured a booth in the window. After they’d ordered, Henrietta sipped her orange juice and regarded Derian with a speculative gaze. “I think it’s time for you to tell me what’s really going on at the agency, don’t you?”
Derian swallowed the mouthful of coffee she’d just taken and tried not to cough. Somehow, HW always knew what was really going on. She’d known about Derian and Aud getting involved in high school almost before Derian had figured it out, and had merely told them to exercise caution around Martin, who had a remarkable penchant for narrow-mindedness.
“I guess there’s no use in my trying to bluff my way out of this, is there?” Derian said.
“See the bet or fold your cards.”
Derian laughed. “Everything at Winfield’s is fine. I wasn’t lying about that. There have been some…incursions from the enemy camp, but we’re handling that.”
Henrietta tapped her glass with a nail, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Donatella Agnelli.”
“How the hell did you know that?”
Henrietta smiled thinly. “Because Donatella is Martin’s hatchet woman. When he wants something nasty done, quickly and lethally, he sends Donatella. Did she try to gut the place?”
“She might have, but we put a stop to it.”
Henrietta’s eyebrow arched up. “We?”
“Emily and I have kept her out of your office.” Derian grinned, feeling the same thrill she did when she’d just won big on a long shot. “Donatella has been overseeing an audit, but nothing is coming of it. Your books are good, and your bottom line is well within range of other agencies.”
“But nothing like what your father would like to see.”
Derian lifted a shoulder. “It’s not Martin’s business, is it.”
“No, but he’d like it to be. Actually, he’d like to destroy it just for spite, because it was what I always
wanted and something our father valued.” Henrietta sighed. “What Martin can’t control, he seeks to destroy.”
“The agency is safe. I promise.”
“And what about you? How are you holding up under Martin’s guns?”
“He didn’t draw much blood this time.”
“I’m sorry. He’s a fool.”
“I’m learning not to expect him to change.” Derian realized the most powerful antidote to her father’s criticism was her own sense of accomplishment. For the first time, the sting of his disregard no longer made her want to grab the first plane to anywhere else. “And I’m okay with that.”
Henrietta squeezed her hand. “Then you truly have won.”
Derian wasn’t sure about that, but she figured she might be on the right track at last. And right now all she really wanted to think about was her dinner date with Emily.
*
Emily wiped her hands on a dish towel and hurried to the door. She checked the peephole and quickly pulled the door open. “Hi! You’re early.”
“Your downstairs neighbor let me in. I assured her I wasn’t a burglar.”
“You do have the look of a scoundrel about you,” Emily said, leaning up to kiss Derian quickly but firmly. “Come in.”
“I’m a little early, but I was just hanging around the office, and I thought I’d much rather be hanging around here.” Derian lifted the bottle of wine she had tucked under her arm. “In case the other one didn’t survive.”
