finally realizing he still held the wine bottle poised over her glass. Never taking his gaze from the extravagant display in front
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Emma Wildes
of him, he poured, heedless that he splashed a little on the pristine tablecloth.
“Please, my lady, allow me.”
He seated her, holding her chair as she sank into it in a whisper of violet perfume and red silk. Staring downward as he adjusted it forward, so she sat comfortably at the table, he could tell she wore absolutely nothing under the gown. Already rock hard, Anton stifled the urge to lift her in his arms and storm upstairs, taking her at once with urgent and sudden need. He instead walked around the table and sat opposite, carrying the wine bottle and smiling ruefully as he went to fill his glass. “Your entrance, Countess, is a triumph. As you can see, my hand is not quite steady. If you had walked into a ballroom back in Paris—or any other city in the world for that matter—in that dress, civilized men would kill each other for the privilege of dragging you off and ravishing you.”
“I believe you have yourself to thank for this particular garment,”
Lara informed him, her smile tinged with wry amusement. “Your reputation as a hot-blooded lover is so well-known that Madame Dupont felt this style would intrigue you.”
“It does,” he admitted, holding her gaze. “As long as you wear it for me only.”
“So you not only dictate my place in your bed, but now you own me, as well?” she asked quietly.
He’d like to, he realized, which was an odd feeling. He never felt possessive over his lovers, at least not before this glorious Englishwoman. “It is nothing that simple,” he said honestly, his voice hushed, “but rest assured, what I want is for you to be happy. I want the cloud of possible trouble off our horizon…and mostly, I want you.”
“Well,” her slim fingers went around the stem of her glass as she lifted it, “tonight you will have me, Anton, rest assured.”
If he wasn’t already rigidly erect, he would be at that declaration.
Incomparable
47
Glad her face had lightened back to the teasing flirt, he arched a brow. “In any way I wish? How adventurous are you, Lara?”
Her smooth brow knitted. “I have no idea. You know about my marriage and you have been the only other. Whatever I know, I learned from you.”
The only other …he liked the idea of it, that she had been essentially an innocent in the ways of pleasure when she had come to his bed. Being her teacher was definitely his privilege. “I have a few ideas for this evening’s entertainment.” He lifted his wine. “Here, let us toast to mutual delight and unbridled pleasure.”
Lara lifted her glass, taking a sip at the same time, her eyes veiled.
“Are you hungry?”
She inclined her head. “It looks wonderful. I am famished, actually.”
“I will happily serve you, my love, if you will do me one small favor.”
Her fine brows lifted in inquiry. “I beg your pardon? What favor?”
“Pull your bodice down, so I can see your breasts entirely.” Anton felt the heavy throb between his legs, wondering if he could actually make it through dinner. “It doesn’t look like it will take much.”
Her lashes lowered, but not before he saw the shimmer of excitement there. She liked being on exhibit before him as it gave her a sort of sexual power. That was easy to sense. “As you wish, Monsieur de Comte,” she said huskily, “but I am complying only because I am very, very hungry.” Hooking her fingers in the neckline of her dress, she eased it down a fraction, exposing her nipples, those luscious crests firm and erect.
“A bit more.” He heard his voice only abstractly, all of his attention on the female presentation across the table.
Lara complied, pulling the fabric lower until her breasts were completely revealed, their soft weight thrust upward by the cloth beneath them, so high and splendid that he caught his breath. “How is
48
Emma
46
Emma Wildes
of him, he poured, heedless that he splashed a little on the pristine tablecloth.
“Please, my lady, allow me.”
He seated her, holding her chair as she sank into it in a whisper of violet perfume and red silk. Staring downward as he adjusted it forward, so she sat comfortably at the table, he could tell she wore absolutely nothing under the gown. Already rock hard, Anton stifled the urge to lift her in his arms and storm upstairs, taking her at once with urgent and sudden need. He instead walked around the table and sat opposite, carrying the wine bottle and smiling ruefully as he went to fill his glass. “Your entrance, Countess, is a triumph. As you can see, my hand is not quite steady. If you had walked into a ballroom back in Paris—or any other city in the world for that matter—in that dress, civilized men would kill each other for the privilege of dragging you off and ravishing you.”
“I believe you have yourself to thank for this particular garment,”
Lara informed him, her smile tinged with wry amusement. “Your reputation as a hot-blooded lover is so well-known that Madame Dupont felt this style would intrigue you.”
“It does,” he admitted, holding her gaze. “As long as you wear it for me only.”
“So you not only dictate my place in your bed, but now you own me, as well?” she asked quietly.
He’d like to, he realized, which was an odd feeling. He never felt possessive over his lovers, at least not before this glorious Englishwoman. “It is nothing that simple,” he said honestly, his voice hushed, “but rest assured, what I want is for you to be happy. I want the cloud of possible trouble off our horizon…and mostly, I want you.”
“Well,” her slim fingers went around the stem of her glass as she lifted it, “tonight you will have me, Anton, rest assured.”
If he wasn’t already rigidly erect, he would be at that declaration.
Incomparable
47
Glad her face had lightened back to the teasing flirt, he arched a brow. “In any way I wish? How adventurous are you, Lara?”
Her smooth brow knitted. “I have no idea. You know about my marriage and you have been the only other. Whatever I know, I learned from you.”
The only other …he liked the idea of it, that she had been essentially an innocent in the ways of pleasure when she had come to his bed. Being her teacher was definitely his privilege. “I have a few ideas for this evening’s entertainment.” He lifted his wine. “Here, let us toast to mutual delight and unbridled pleasure.”
Lara lifted her glass, taking a sip at the same time, her eyes veiled.
“Are you hungry?”
She inclined her head. “It looks wonderful. I am famished, actually.”
“I will happily serve you, my love, if you will do me one small favor.”
Her fine brows lifted in inquiry. “I beg your pardon? What favor?”
“Pull your bodice down, so I can see your breasts entirely.” Anton felt the heavy throb between his legs, wondering if he could actually make it through dinner. “It doesn’t look like it will take much.”
Her lashes lowered, but not before he saw the shimmer of excitement there. She liked being on exhibit before him as it gave her a sort of sexual power. That was easy to sense. “As you wish, Monsieur de Comte,” she said huskily, “but I am complying only because I am very, very hungry.” Hooking her fingers in the neckline of her dress, she eased it down a fraction, exposing her nipples, those luscious crests firm and erect.
“A bit more.” He heard his voice only abstractly, all of his attention on the female presentation across the table.
Lara complied, pulling the fabric lower until her breasts were completely revealed, their soft weight thrust upward by the cloth beneath them, so high and splendid that he caught his breath. “How is
48
Emma
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