Page 116 of A Foolish Flirtation

“You had better reach for it,” he advised.

She bit her lip. “But if I do…”

“What?” he asked curiously as his thumb slid repeatedly over her belly button.

“What will you do?” she asked breathlessly, turning her head to look at him.

“Well…” He seemed to consider this. “I was thinking about lifting up your robe and taking a good look at your backside.”

Emmie gave a gasp. “You saw plenty of it last night!” she reminded him.

“Not enough though. I’ll probably never get enough of that particular view.” His voice roughened over the last few words, giving her a peculiar feeling.

Emmie remained frozen where she was, unsure of her next move. When he, too, remained immobile, as though waiting for her decision, she reached slowly for the sugar bowl. Then she felt it, the whisper of her hemline sliding up the backs of her legs. Pressing her lips together to prevent her whimper, Emmie closed her fingers about the sugar bowl and dragged it back toward her, leaving a telltale trail of granules across the tabletop before she could set it down upright.

“Some spilled,” she murmured, and the next thing she knew, she could feel the cold air against her bottom, and Jeremy’s hand slid down from her stomach to slip between her legs, cupping her there and providing a buffer between her and the table.

“Is this comfortable for you?” he asked casually.

Emmie was not sure how to reply. It was not uncomfortable, precisely, but it did feel rather odd lying across the table like this, half exposed. She also felt squirmy and strangely excited. “Ye-es?” she wavered.

“What about…if I do this?” he asked, pressing up against her from behind again.

“I—I don’t mind it,” she admitted with a hitch in her breath.

“What if I was to undo my robe?” he asked silkily, his fingers starting to rub between her legs.

“Your robe?” she panted, feeling herself grow embarrassingly wet from his ministrations.

“Yes, mine.”

She considered this a moment. There could be only one reason for him to be undoing his robe. It was so hard to concentrate when his fingers were creating such havoc with her senses. “I—I would not mind.” There was a rustling noise and the next thing she knew she felt the press of his hard flesh from behind. He was fully erect and demanding entrance.

“Oh!” she uttered, her eyes watering.

“I think we need to put your knee up on the table surface, Ballentine,” he puffed. “Or I’m not going to fit inside.”

“My knee?” she shrilled in panic, half twisting to look back at him.

He gave a breathless laugh. “Too undignified?”

She was glad he could not see how red her face was. “I—I’m not sure.”

“How about if you take a sip of tea at the same time?” he teased. “Would that give it a more respectable air?” Emmie’s tongue was too tied to answer that one. “Shall I stop?” he asked suddenly.

“N-no.” Bracing her palms carefully between the dish of bread rolls and a plate of eggs, Emmie tentatively lifted one leg. Instantly, his hand was there at the back of her knee, guiding it carefully until he set it down on the table. Emmie breathed out with a rush.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Tell me if that changes at any point in proceedings.” His voice sounded tense now. Less amused. It had a rougher edge to it. He started to push inside her. Emmie’s eyes flew wide at the pressure, at the unaccustomed position, and, once he was fully seated, at the sensation of fullness.

His thighs pressed hard against the backs of her legs now, and it was only at this point that she realized he had not actually kissed her that morning. She blinked in shock that he could have skipped such a thing. Was it because he had lavished so many kisses on her last night, and this treatment was to redress the balance?

His fingers moved again against that small bud of flesh between her legs that radiated so much pleasure, and the jolt of it caused all such thoughts to fly from Emmie’s head. “Oh!” she cried out, and Jeremy started to move behind her in brisk, vigorous movements that soon had the dishes rattling against the surface.

Oh dear, perhaps they ought to have tidied everything away first, she thought, trying to focus on the vibrating lid of the teapot. If she could just keep her eyes on that, and not lose concentration, then she could prevent herself from collapsing in a heap onto the breakfast things.