Eveline smiled. “You seemed to enjoy knocking things over whenever I came near. I was afraid you might bring the whole shop down if I kissed you.”
Emery laughed, the sound turning into a sigh as Eveline's lips found her neck. “That's still a distinct possibility,” she managed to say, her head falling back to grant better access.
Eveline's mouth traced a path along her throat, each press of her lips igniting new heat beneath Emery's skin. “It may be worth the risk,” she murmured against Emery's collarbone.
Emery reached for her, needing to feel more of her, to be closer. Her hands met the silky fabric of Eveline's blouse, hesitating at the top button. “Is this okay?” she whispered.
Eveline's answer was to guide Emery's fingers to the button, helping her undo it before capturing her mouth in another kiss. Emery worked the remaining buttons free, her hands trembling slightly with anticipation and a hint of nerves. She was no virgin, but this felt momentous in a way it never had with anyone else.
The blouse fell open to reveal a simple black bra against olive skin, the sight sending a fresh wave of desire through Emery. She traced the edge of the lace with her fingers, watching as Eveline's breath quickened in response.
“You're beautiful,” Emery said, meaning it more than any words she'd ever spoken or written.
Eveline laughed again, her teeth white and straight. “So are you, chérie,” she said, reaching for the hem of Emery's shirt. “May I?”
Emery nodded, lifting her arms to help as Eveline pulled the shirt over her head. Cool air brushed against her skin, until it was replaced by the warmth of Eveline's hands, gentle as they traced patterns on her torso.
“I've imagined this,” Eveline said, her voice low. “Ever since you walked into my shop and destroyed my classic literature display.”
Emery laughed, the sound turning into a gasp as Eveline's thumb brushed across her breast. “That was an accident.”
“This isn't,” Eveline said, repeating the caress with deliberate intent.
It seemed to take hours, clothing falling away piece by piece, every inch of skin kissed and stroked. Hours until Emery couldalmost stand it no more. And then Eveline stood, pulling Emery up with her. “Come, the bedroom is this way.”
They migrated from sofa to bedroom, a stumbling journey punctuated by kisses and laughter when Emery nearly knocked over a lamp. “See?” Eveline said. “Destruction follows you.”
“Only around you,” Emery said, almost serious. “You make me clumsy because I can't think straight when you're near.”
Eveline looked at her for a moment, then pulled Emery to her bed, laying her down. And Emery almost lost her breath.
She had written many passionate scenes, had imagined countless intimate moments between fictional lovers, but nothing had prepared her for the reality of Eveline's hands and mouth on her body. The soft brush of dark hair against her skin, the weight of Eveline's breast in her palm, the catch in Eveline's breath when Emery found a particularly sensitive spot. It was all both exactly as she'd imagined and utterly, wonderfully different.
Eveline's fingers traced a path down her stomach, and Emery's hips rose in instinctive invitation. Eveline paused, looking up to meet Emery's eyes, seeking permission. Emery nodded, she didn’t think she could speak, and then Eveline was touching her, finding her wetness with gentle certainty.
The feeling was overwhelming. Emery clutched at Eveline's shoulders, her body arching as an explosion built within her. Eveline watched her face carefully, learning from each gasp and reaction, adjusting her touch.
“Eveline,” Emery breathed, unable to say more, barely able to remember who she was and where she was.
“I'm here,” Eveline said. “Let go.”
And Emery did, release washing over her and leaving her trembling. Eveline held her, murmuring endearments in a mix of English and French that Emery was too lost to translate.
When she could breathe again, Emery rolled them over. “Not bad,” she said.
“Not bad,” said Eveline. “Ah, I see, your traditional English understatement.”
“Do we understate things?” asked Emery, tracing a fingertip over the curve of Eveline’s breast.
“Yes,” gasped Eveline. “Yes,” this time more urgent as Emery was teasing her nipple. “Yes.”
Emery drew her hands down, parted Eveline’s legs, felt the warmth and wetness between them and couldn’t have held back if she’d wanted to. She slid down, her cheeks against the softness of Eveline’s thighs, and then began to lap.
It was Eveline's turn to gasp and tremble. Emery pushed against her, feeling pressure building up as Eveline thrust her hips upwards to meet her. She slid one, then two fingers inside Eveline, and was greeted by gasps of pleasure. And then Eveline was shuddering, calling out Emery’s name in a voice far rougher than Emery had ever heard it.
And then they lay tangled together, skin cooling in the night air, breath gradually slowing.
“That was…” Eveline began, then seemed to run out of words.
