The Color of Love (26 page)

A black Town Car slid to the curb and Emily’s
pulse soared. She was used to that reaction by now, since every time she saw
Derian, exhilaration rushed through her. She loved simply looking at her, the
way she moved with a graceful, confident stride, the way her brows drew down
just a little when she was deep in thought, the lazy way she sometimes watched
Emily that made Emily feel incredibly sensual.

Emily had only had a glimpse of her when
Derian stepped from the car before she disappeared onto the stairs, but a
second was enough to put her heart in her throat. For tonight’s formal event,
Derian had chosen a dark suit with a classically tailored jacket and notched
lapels, fitted trousers, and a pale gray silk shirt—sleek and elegant, like
her.

Feeling only a teeny bit foolish, Emily
waited next to the intercom for the buzzer. As soon as it sounded, she said,
“I’ll be right down.”

“Let me come up,” Derian said. “I’m your
escort, remember?”

Emily laughed. “I think I can manage the
stairs.”

“No doubt, but a lady should be handed into
her carriage in the proper fashion.”

“All right.” Still laughing, Emily released
the inner door and, when the knock sounded, took a deep breath and told herself
not to think, just to enjoy the night. She opened her door and Derian’s gaze
swept over her.

“You look incredible.” Derian folded Emily’s
hand in hers and kissed her knuckles. With her head still bent low, she
murmured, “You take my breath away.”

“You make me feel amazing.”

Derian looked up, her eyes glinting. “I’ve
been looking forward to this, and you are the reason.”

Smiling self-consciously, Emily grabbed her
small clutch from the table by the door and stepped out, closing it behind her.
“I happen to know the National Book Awards is not exactly high on your list of
events to attend. But I really hope you enjoy it.”

Derian slid her hand behind Emily’s elbow and
walked close beside her down the hall. “You’ll be there. How can I not enjoy
it?”

“After the twentieth conversation about
market trends and predictions of doom for the demise of the entire industry,
you might change your mind.”

Derian held the door for her. “Who said I was
going to be listening to any of that? I’m an expert at appearing to be
interested and nodding at all the appropriate places while contemplating the
next race.”

“Your skills will come in handy tonight,
then.” Emily firmly told herself not to think about when Derian might be off to
the next stop on the endless racing circuit. Henrietta was home from the
hospital, but thus far they’d all managed to keep her away from Winfield’s.
Derian wasn’t leaving yet, and tonight was just for tonight. She’d think no
further.

After they settled into the backseat of the
car, Emily gave the driver the address. Derian sat close, her arm stretched out
behind Emily, the fingertips of her left hand resting on Emily’s bare skin. She
hadn’t worn a wrap and now she was doubly glad. The weather had finally cooperated,
and the evening promised to be one of those rare spring nights that felt like
summer and held its warmth into the late hours. Derian’s fingertips on her skin
warmed her all the way through, or maybe Derian’s touch was just a reflection
of the heat that had been building inside her for days.

“We’ll have about an hour to mingle before
the event starts,” Emily said. “I suspect everyone is going to want to meet
you, so be prepared.”

“My loins are girded,” Derian said dryly.

“Well, try not to draw your sword unless
absolutely necessary.”

“I promise, no bloodshed.” Derian’s hand
moved slowly up and down Emily’s arm. “Besides, I’ll have you to think about,
and nothing could possibly bother me while I’m doing that.”

*

Seated at a large round table near the front
of the banquet hall with eight other Winfield people, platters of hors
d’oeuvres, and open bottles of champagne, Emily found her pledge to concentrate
on business getting more difficult by the second. Usually she loved events like
this one. She enjoyed networking, taking the temperature of the industry,
watching the maneuvers of the power people who were part of the living
machinery of the publishing industry. And she truly appreciated the work of the
authors being fêted, even when, like tonight, none of Winfield’s were on the
stage. She thought several of the authors they represented had deserved to be
finalists, but awards were always less about quality and far more about
politics. After all, they were determined by individuals who, no matter how well-informed
and knowledgeable, still had personal agendas, biases, and favoritisms. Still,
one always wanted one’s work to be appreciated, and as long as recognition was
formalized this way, she was as competitive as anyone else in the business.

Tonight her attention was split between the
stage and Derian. She couldn’t seem to stop stealing glances at her, and every
time she did, all she wanted was to be alone with her. As the various awards
and categories were announced and awards given, Derian leaned closer.

“How many of Winfield’s authors have been
shortlisted?”

“Quite a number,” Emily said quietly, “but
not as many as should be, in my opinion.”

“You’ll have to tell me some other time how
this all works.”

“We’ll have a breakfast postmortem.”

“Tomorrow works for me.”

Derian chuckled, a low seductive sound that
slashed through Emily like lightning, making her forget everything that was
happening in the moment. Impulsively, she said, “For me too. I always love to
start the day with a business discussion.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve ever had,” Derian
said. “How soon can we get out of here?”

Emily was thankful the lights were turned
down low in the room and no one at their table was close enough to hear their
conversation or notice her response. She wasn’t in the mood for pretending she
didn’t know what Derian was talking about. She was in a very different mood
altogether.

“We have to stay to the end of this,” she
whispered. “But I did happen to come by a very nice bottle of wine I thought
you might like to share afterward.”

Even in the dim light she could see the
predatory glint leap into Derian’s eyes. She loved knowing she brought out the
hunter in her and, ridiculously breathless, reveled in the wild surge in her
depths.

“I would love nothing more.” Derian leaned
closer until their shoulders touched. “Waiting is exquisitely painful.”

“I know.” Emily turned back to the stage,
clapped in the appropriate places, and tried without success to concentrate on
the rest of the ceremony. She caught Ron glancing their way more than once and
envisioned another social cross-examination from him in the near future.

As soon as the last award had been bestowed,
the lights came up and the audience began to disperse. The award recipients
gathered by the stage for photographs with their respective agents and
publishers and those who waited to congratulate them.

“Now?” Derian leaning closer, her mouth
almost brushing Emily’s ear.

“Yes,” Emily said, grabbing Derian’s hand and
pulling her away before they could get caught up in the aftermath
conversations. “Now.”

*

The car was waiting and they rode in silence,
Derian’s arm once again around Emily’s shoulders, their bodies touching. Emily
leaned in to Derian, anticipation electrifying every sensation. The warm air
caressing her skin made her long for Derian’s hands to do the same. By the time
they arrived and climbed the stairs hand in hand, she ached. She let them into
her apartment and switched on a table lamp that gave just enough light to fill
the room with a pale glow.

“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.

Emily slid the cuff links from Derian’s
sleeves and reached blindly toward the bedside table to set them down, never
stopping her soft kisses down the center of Derian’s chest as she bared pale,
smooth skin. She loved this soft glide of Derian’s skin under her lips, loved
the heady sweet scent of her. She pushed Derian’s shirt off and pulled the
sleek silk she’d worn underneath upward, and then there was only the rise of
Derian’s breasts beneath her mouth and the honeyed wonder of her skin.

Derian groaned. “We need to do this lying
down.”

“I know.” Emily’s breath fled as Derian
unzipped the back of her dress, slid the fabric down her shoulders, and lifted
her breasts free of the material. She pushed into the heat of Derian’s hands,
kissing the sweep of Derian’s breasts, just glancing her nipples. “I can’t seem
to stop touching you.”

“Then don’t. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

Derian unbuckled her belt and shed the rest
of her clothes. Emily let her dress fall to the floor in a pool around her feet
and started to remove her undergarments.

“Wait.” Gloriously naked, and completely
unself-conscious, Derian knelt. “Let me do this.”

Emily braced her hands on Derian’s shoulders
and looked down, watching Derian’s hands move on her body. Her thighs quivered.
Her vision clouded. “Hurry.”

Derian laughed softly. “Not tonight.”

“Whatever you want,” Emily whispered,
catching her lip between her teeth as Derian pressed a cheek to her stomach and
slid a hand up her back to release her bra. Derian stroked her hips and hooked
her thumbs under the scrap of lace she’d so carefully chosen, knowing Derian
would see them.

“These are pretty,” Derian breathed against
the sheer fabric. She looked up and grinned her arrogant grin. “For me?”

“Mmm.” Emily raked her fingers through
Derian’s hair, words having abandoned her to the primal language of desire.
Derian’s fingers lightly trailed across the delta of her thighs, stroking her
through the silk. Emily’s hips lifted to her touch. “Derian, take me to bed. I
want you on top of me.”

The plea in Emily’s voice broke Derian’s
patience. She surged to her feet and, circling an arm about Emily’s waist, half
carried her the few feet to the bed. Reaching down with her free hand, she
tossed the covers roughly aside and guided Emily down. When she slid on top of
her, their legs entwining and Emily holding her tight, Derian hungered with an
ache that threatened never to be satisfied. Stripping away the last shimmer of
material between them, she filled her hands with Emily’s warm flesh, tasted
her, drank of her, gloried in her. She didn’t hurry, kissing and caressing her
breasts, her stomach, the insides of her thighs. She lost herself in her and
still the hunger roared.

“I want you so much.” Derian braced herself
on one arm, watching Emily’s face. “I want to make you come.”

“So, so good.” Emily arched beneath her
touches, electric with desire. “Take, touch me.”

Derian stroked between Emily’s thighs, and
Emily’s eyelids fluttered. Emily’s lips parted, her unfocused gaze sought
Derian’s, and her body tightened. Derian kissed her gently and slid deep inside
her. Emily’s cry against her mouth filled her with a primitive surge of
triumph. She stroked in time to the lift and fall of Emily’s hips, and when
Emily covered her hand to guide her, her heart nearly stopped. Chained by
desire, she willed herself to Emily’s call.

“You’re going to make me come,” Emily
exclaimed, part shock, part pleasure.