Page 29 of Until I’m Safe in Your Arms

“I certainly hope I do.” He dipped down and kissed her lips. “Would you like some sherry before dinner? There’s some on the sideboard there.”

“See, you know exactly what a wife wants.” With a flirtatious little lift to her eyebrows, Emma sat in one of the two leather arm chairs on either side of the fireplace.

The minx. If he didn’t think it would get them thrown out of the Albion, he’d give his wife what she truly wanted. This was a private room after all. Of course, the waiter would be in soon. So, for now, the sherry would have to suffice. He poured the libation into two very pretty cut-crystal glasses and handed her one. “Bon appetite, my dear.”

Emma raised her glass to him then sipped, her eyes closing slightly as she savored the wine. “Delicious.”

Enveloped by the comfortable chair, the roaring fire beside her, her tiered silk gown of deep rose revealing her white shoulders and emphasizing her slender neck, Emma put him in mind of a rare jewel nestled on a soft cushion. Waiting to be plucked up and enjoyed to the fullest. “Delicious indeed.”

Perhaps some of his desire showed too well, for her cheeks pinkened, and she sipped her sherry more frequently until the glass was drained. She set it on a nearby table and looked up at him, a slight seductive smile on her lips. “Now what should we do?”

Alex’s fingers tightened on his glass. She must know damned well what he wanted to do. This evening had taken a strange turn, with his wife trying to tempt him to ravish her in a public place. Well, the room was private enough for a little dalliance except they were certain to be interrupted by the servers. Perhaps they might have a little time before—

A quick rap on the door and the waiter opened it, a large silver tray in his hands. “Turtle soup, sir.”

“Thank you.” He set his glass down and moved to Emma, offering his arm. “Let me assist you to the table, my dear.”

Eyes demurely downcast—surely for the waiter’s benefit as his wife didn’t have a demure bone in her body—Emma took his arm and let him lead her to the table. Once he’d seated her, he sat down opposite her at the long dinner table that had been set for two. “You may serve now.”

Once the steaming bowls were laid before them, the waiter hurried out, leaving them alone. The rich aroma of herbs and turtle made Alex’s mouth water. He dipped his spoon in and soon was savoring the meaty goodness of the dish. “This is excellent.”

“I agree.” Emma spooned up the broth, popped it into her mouth, and smiled with satisfaction. “This course is certainly a lovely beginning to our evening.” She stared straight into his eyes and licked her lips. “But I suspect it will pale in comparison to the dishes yet to come.”

Alex’s brows shot up. If his wife wished to be outrageous, then he would follow suit. “If you are correct, my dear, we will be truly sated by the time we reach home.”

“I certainly hope so.” Emma laughed, and they finished the soup with little talk but a great deal of sly looks.

The waiter returned shortly with a tray of savory pastries. “Oysters Bouchees, sir.”

Alex met Emma’s eyes. Her lips drew into a little pucker, as though she was trying not to laugh. He clenched his jaw to avoid the same thing. “Thank you,” he managed to growl, and the servant hurried out. The door had scarcely closed before Alex could contain himself no longer. He laughed loudly, joined immediately by Emma’s full-throated whoop.

“You ordered these on purpose, didn’t you, Alex?” She wiped tears from her eyes then settled back in her chair and looked at him expectantly.

“I would love to take the credit, but I have to confess I did not.” Alex continued to chuckle. “This must be part of the table d’hote—their regular fixed menu. I had nothing to do with it. Although,” he grabbed the serving spoon and placed several of the little pastries on their plates, “I think we must take advantage of this serendipitous course.” He eyed her lasciviously. “Don’t you?”

“Oh, yes.” Emma brought the pastry to her mouth and bit into it slowly. Some of the juice from the plump oyster squirted onto her chin. She scooped it up with her finger and licked it thoroughly.

The sight of her tongue so employed made Alex groan. His cock had begun to make its demands known so strenuously that he’d scarcely need the stimulation of the oysters. Still, he wasn’t about to let that delicious tidbit go to waste. He scooped up a pastry from his own plate and put the entire thing into his mouth. The flaky pastry melted on his tongue, leaving him the savory oyster, with its hint of brine, to relish alone. Never had he enjoyed a meal more.

The next six courses continued to fan their ardor as either one or the other of them made lecherous comments or bold movements designed to inflame the other. By the time they reached the ice pudding, it was a miracle the delectable confection didn’t melt from the heat they had generated between them. The dessert did not cool them off at all. When Emma used the tip of her tongue to taste the frozen treat, Alex could bear it no more.

Throwing his napkin down on his plate, he leaped to his feet, ran to her side of the table, and pulled her up into his arms.

She ran her tongue, still white from the pudding, around her lips. “Don’t you want your dessert, Alex?”

“You are my dessert.” His mouth descended onto hers, the sugariness of the ice pudding paling in comparison to that of her lips. Thrusting his tongue between them, he gloried in the tangle of sweet sensations, absolutely mad to have her here and now. There was a huge expanse of table before them, but the logistics of her hooped skirts would prohibit that. Damned fashion. If only she was wearing a sleek, straight gown from the earlier part of the century, they might have had a chance to quench the flames that were licking his bones at this moment. However, there was the chair…

“Come here.” He pulled Emma over to the chair where she’d enjoyed the sherry earlier. “If you will have a seat, my dear, I think we can have one final course before we leave.”

“We can?” She frowned, but sat nevertheless. When he poked his head underneath her skirts, however, she gasped. “Alex!”

He ran his hands up her legs, over her lace-trimmed pantalettes until he came to her knees. With a gentle nudge, he parted them and continued to the apex of her thighs where the slit in her pantalettes gave him access to her warm womanly essence. Above him, her excited panting acted as a strong aphrodisiac. Emma had always responded to his slightest touch, but he’d not yet set a finger to her. Her excitement never failed to arouse him, and never more than now. His cock was straining at his breeches, eager to do its duty. Alex wasn’t certain how that was going to be accomplished here at the Albion, but he’d certainly give his wife a release she’d never forget.

Parting the thin white fabric slowly, he inhaled her female musk, the delightful earthy scent of a woman. He leaned forward and placed his lips on her mons, a thrill shooting through him when she shuddered at his touch. When he touched his tongue to her intimate flesh, she writhed and moaned, shifting from side to side in the chair. Grinning, Alex licked deeper.

A sharp rap at the door brought him bolt upright, his head hitting the steel hoop canopied overtop of him.

Emma let out a shriek and clamped her legs shut.