Page 41 of The Hellion and the Captain
“Good,” he said.
Before she could say anything else, he met her challenge while answering her own.
He leaned in and captured her lips with his – a hungry, possessive kiss that left no doubt about his desire for her.
Rhys’s hands slid up Emmaline’s back, pulling her flush against him as he deepened the kiss. Her lips parted eagerly under his, a soft moan escaping her throat. The sound sent a thrill through him, urging him on.
He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue before delving inside, tasting her sweetness. She met him stroke for stroke, her own tongue tangling with his in a sensual dance. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him even closer.
Rhys lost himself in the feel of her – the softness of her curves pressed against the hard planes of his body, the scent of lavender and woman that clung to her skin, the breathy little gasps she made as he trailed kisses along her jaw and down the column of her throat.
He nipped at her pulse point, soothing the sting with his tongue, and felt her shiver in his arms. Her hands roamed over his back and shoulders, leaving fiery trails in their wake. Desire, hot and heavy, coiled low in his belly.
Breaking the kiss, Rhys rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting for breath. “Emmaline,” he rasped, his voice rough with need. “We shouldn’t... I can’t...”
She silenced him with a finger to his lips. “Shh,” she whispered. “Don’t think, Rhys. Just feel. Accept this. Accept me.”
And then her mouth was on his again, her kiss fierce and demanding. Rhys groaned, the last threads of hiscontrol snapping. He backed her up against a nearby tree, his body covering hers as he plundered her mouth.
Emmaline arched into him, fitting into the curve of his body like she was made for him. Perhaps she was. In this moment, with passion burning through his veins and her warm and willing in his arms, it felt like they were two halves of a whole, coming together at last.
His hands skimmed down her sides to her hips, gripping them tightly as he ground his arousal against her center. Even through the layers of their clothing, he could feel her heat, her readiness for him. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to strip her bare and bury himself inside her right then and there.
But he couldn’t. Not here, not like this. When he took her – and he would, he knew that now with a bone-deep certainty – it should be in a bed, where he could worship every inch of her body as she deserved. Where he could take his time learning her, pleasuring her, wringing cries from her kiss-swollen lips.
Where he could show her that she was more than a “good time,” that she should be given all he had to give and more.
Reluctantly, Rhys gentled the kiss, easing them back from the brink. He peppered soft, sweet kisses over her face – her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. Emmaline sighed contentedly, but she didn’t let go.
His hands ran over her sides, skimming her hips, her waist, her breasts, but he couldn’t stop and linger there, or he might forget all reason and take her there in the middle of the field.
“Why are you stopping?” she asked, her breath coming in pants.
“You deserve more than a tupping in a field.”
“But you do want to… ‘tup’ me?” she asked, her eyes glinting.
“I want to,” he said ferociously. “But I shouldn’t.”
“Says who?”
“I can think of many people who would say so, most notably your father.”
“But not me,” she said, biting her lip. “And I believe that we are the only people that matter when it comes to this situation.”
She leaned back and looked up into his eyes.
“You took that first step,” she said, her lips curling into a feline smile, but he also noted that mischievous look that lit her eyes. “But you’re not done yet, Rhys.”
“Am I not?” He was both excited and terrified.
“No. Not by a long shot.”
Chapter Fourteen
Emmaline knew exactly what Rhys was thinking.
That this kiss might have been what she had desired and was enough to show her what he truly wanted.
