Page 22 of Sweet Hellion

Finally, after what felt like years, the day ended.

“We will need ye on the morrow, Emma.” Mrs. Worsley called over the heads of the other women as Emma collected her pelisse and bonnet. “The wards must be spotless, I say. Spotless.”

“Yes, Mrs. Worsley,” Emma replied.

“Spotless, I say,” Molly huffed under her breath, mimicking Mrs. Worsley.

The women around them snickered.

“Until tomorrow, then.” Emma slipped through the door before Molly could join her.

She couldn’t risk the girl inviting herself for supper, as she sometimes did. Emma hurried through Inverness’s darkening streets, past the street vendors hawking roasted chestnuts and jellied oranges. She’d just turned down Ballifeary Lane when she spied Mrs. Babcock marching in her direction.

“Emma?” Mrs. Babcock called.

Feigning deafness, Emma skipped across the cobblestones and ducked into a narrow alley to take a different route home. When she arrived, night had fallen, and from the back yard, she spotted the warm glow of firelight through the shop windows. She slipped in through the back door to the thump of a mallet strike.

So, Rhys still labored. She rubbed her raw, sore hands, then removed her bonnet and pelisse and hung them on the hook by the door. The continued ringing of the hammer announced Rhys hadn’t heard her arrival. Emma crept up to the shop door and leaned against the doorjamb. Rhys stood, his back to her, hammering the spokes into the wheel hub with strong, accurate blows. She watched his massive muscles clench and bulge beneath his white shirt. What a handsome beast of a man. Trying to shoot him had been the most foolish—and best—thing she’d ever done.

He strode to the worktable, picked up a chisel, then seated himself on the stool. Her heart began to thump as she started forward. When she reached him, she touched the back of his neck. Rhys jerked, but as he swiveled to face her, she threaded her fingers through his dark hair.

“Emma,” he breathed.

The wonder in his voice made her heart jump. He pulled her close. She straddled his thighs and fumbled beneath his plaid. She found him easily enough. Already, his shaft stood erect, announcing he wanted her as much as she wanted him, but as she angled her hips, he caught her about the waist and held her down.

“Nae, lass,” he murmured.

Emma froze. The blood rushed to her ears. He didn’t want her?

He studied her face and chuckled softly. “A kiss first.”

“A kiss?” Emma caught her breath.

The vicar had always gotten down to business at once, only sometimes squeezing and pinching her breasts before pumping away. Rhys slid a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. With spell-binding gentleness, he brushed his lips against hers. He cradled her face in his hands as if she were made of the finest china.

She molded herself against him, opening her mouth to let his tongue sweep inside. He tasted like leather and spice. Slowly, he teased her tongue with his. Her heart squeezed. Who knew a kiss could summon such feelings? She closed her eyes and let him do as he willed.

For a time, he licked, nipped, and nibbled her lips, but the more their tongues tangled, the more the fire burned in her belly. She needed him inside her. Tarnal, but she couldn’t hold still.

Finally, Rhys pulled back. With a glint in his eyes, he whispered, “I want you, Emma.”

The tenderness in his voice made her melt. I want you. Simple words, full of such power. He trailed kisses down the side of her neck as her fingers crept back into his hair. He skimmed a palm over her breast, caught hold of her gown, and pulled the muslin down to expose her breast. His lips felt like fire, branding her nipple with a hot kiss before he took as much as he could into his mouth and began to suckle.

“Rhys,” she choked.

Again, and yet again, he suckled and nipped at her breast as the tingling in her channel grew. Sweet Heaven above, who knew a man’s mouth could elicit such wonders? The sight of his dark head nuzzling her breast made her shiver with want.

All at once, she was done waiting. Emma pushed his plaid back from his thighs. This time, he didn’t stop her as she grasped his hard shaft and guided the head to her entrance. She moaned as she slowly sank onto him. How he stretched her so pleasingly wide. When he’d filled her completely, she began to rock.

He answered by flexing his hips, driving himself into her, slowly at first, then gradually increasing his speed. He pulled her gown down to her waist, freeing her second breast, and fondled one, then the other.

“More.” She arched her back.

Rhys stood and backed her up until her buttocks pressed against the worktable. The position let him penetrate her fully, deeply on every thrust.

“Yes,” she moaned.

He thrust hard, each powerful stroke bouncing the tools on the table. Excitement further tightened her sex. Pleasure ripped through her. The force of her climax made her scream. In the midst of her shudders, he grasped her hips and locked her against his groin, as with a groan, he took his pleasure. The sight of his eyes closed thrilled her to her core. She had pleased him as much as he had her. It hadn’t been like this with Joseph—ever. To her surprise, the need to cry rose.