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"Yep. Hope you don't mind me stealing a bottle."
"It's not stealing. This is your home."
We both take sips from our glasses, though Emery swirls the wine and inhales a deep draft of its scent before she drinks.
"Mrs. D went home," Emery says, "to her cottage in the garden."
I assume she means Mrs. Darroch. My wife needs to give everyone a nickname, apparently.
"We've got full privacy, if you'd rather eat your meal off my naked body."
My fork tumbles from my grasp, clattering onto the plate. "Bod an Donais."
"It's not the devil's penis I want to suck."
"You're a wicked angel, for sure."
She cants her head, studying me. "Which part of bod an Donais means penis?"
"Bod. Your pronunciation of Gaelic is impressive. You are impressive, Emery."
To stop myself from saying anything else she might misinterpret as being romantic, I start to eat my meal, applying my usual precision and care to the task. My wife still seems to find that amusing. Emery dives into her food with an enthusiasm that both disturbs me and makes me want to do what she suggested and eat my meal off her naked body. I marvel at the way she devours her T-bone steak and garlic mashed potatoes.
Most women won't even eat steak. Not in my presence, at least.
Christ, I need to fuck her. But I won't forfeit the bet.
Emery notices me watching her eat, and she swallows a mouthful of steak. "What? Do I have food on my face?"
"No." I sit back in my chair, still observing her with fascination. "Your enthusiasm for eating continues to amaze me. Isobel ate like a bird, and Lilias was a vegan. Una latched onto whatever diet was most popular at the time."
She sips her wine. "I've never dieted, unless you count not being able to eat hardly anything when I had the stomach flu. Never understood the appeal of depriving yourself in the hopes other people will like you better if you're thinner."
I raise my glass near my mouth while I roam my gaze over every luscious curve of her body. "You don't need to be thinner."
"Most guys I've dated would disagree. One jerk told me he didn't mind being with a chubby girl, and another one asked if I'd had a baby recently." She shoves a bite of steak into her mouth, speaking while chewing. "Men these days expect every woman to have a stick figure. With big boobs, of course."
Frowning, I set down my glass. "Those men are eejits. You're perfect. I love your body, love running my hands over every curve and swell."
"I've never thought I was fat. But thank you for that…compliment."
"You're welcome." My voice has grown rougher with a hunger that has nothing to do with food.
Emery sets down her glass and stretches one leg under the table, though I can still see it. Her bare foot nestles between my thighs. My breaths turn into blustering gasps while she slithers lower in her chair, determined to burrow her foot deeper between my thighs. My body tenses, and my cock swells.
"What are ye doing?" I ask.
"There you go again." She strokes my hardening erection with her toes. "Asking questions that have obvious answers. If you insist I explain…" She rubs the length of her foot along the length of my cock. "I'm trying to get you so hot you'll throw me down on this table and fuck me mindless."
I clap my hands on the chair's arms, gripping them hard. "This is your plan to win the wager."
"Partly." She pets me with her wee toes. "I want you all the time."
I want her all the time too. But I cuff my hand around her ankle and exert just enough pressure to force the lass to bend her knee and retract her foot from my slat. "May I finish my dinner without you…tempting me?"
"I may be shameless when it comes to winning our bet, but I promise." She moves her foot to the floor and sits up in her chair. "I won't tease you, but I can't guarantee you won't feel tempted. I can't be held responsible for your lustful tendencies."
"My lustful tendencies?" A smirk tightens my cheeks. "You are the most passionate woman I've ever known. Full of lust and vigor, unafraid of your desires."
