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Chapter Eighteen

Emma

The kiss obliterated every coherent thought in Emma’s head.

Without a shred of hesitation left between them, Victoria’s mouth pressed against hers with a desperate finality, moving as if she had spent the past months starving for this exact point of contact. Emma surrendered her breath directly into Victoria's mouth, lifting both hands to tangle her fingers through the neat chignon at the nape of Victoria’s neck until the pins gave way and loose strands tumbled across Emma’s wrists.

A muffled groan slipped from Victoria's throat as her hands found Emma’s waist, hauling her in flush against the entire length of her body until the erratic pounding of their hearts blurred into a single frantic rhythm. They stumbled backward in the dark, Emma’s heel clipping the wooden leg of the market stall with enough force to send a sharp rattle through the frame, fracturing the haze around them just enough to pull Victoria back. She stood there panting, her chest heaving as she stared down at Emma with pupils blown wide in the dim courtyard light.

"Not here," Victoria whispered.

Emma nodded blindly.

Victoria caught Emma’s hand in a tight grip, tugging her away from the open courtyard to navigate the shadows behind the vendor tents with relentless purpose. They broke into an urgent stride toward the inn, Victoria setting a pace so sudden and hungry that it sent Emma’s stomach into a dizzying freefall.

Slips of cold night air vanished the second they tumbled through the kitchen door into the lingering warmth of lemon and baked sugar. Emma barely looked at the trays of unsold tarts cooling on the counter before the latch clicked shut, and Victoria used the momentum to drive her back against the side of the refrigerator.

The collision knocked the remaining breath from Emma’s lungs as Victoria took her mouth again, pressing close enough to slot one thigh between Emma's legs. The sudden pressure through the denim sent heat straight to Emma’s center, coaxing out a muffled whimper as her hands scrambled blindly through the dark to anchor themselves at Victoria’s waist.

"We have to go upstairs," Emma panted against Victoria’s mouth.

"I know." Victoria muttered. She bit Emma’s lower lip. She did not move an inch.

"Victoria, the guest."

A low groan tore from Victoria’s throat before she caught Emma’s fingers again, hauling her blindly out of the kitchen and into the corridor. Navigating the dark by memory turned out to be an utter disaster—the toe of Emma’s sneaker caught the raised hem of a runner, pitching her forward with enough weight to knock Victoria clean into the wall with a muffled thud.

They stopped dead together in the sudden quiet, waiting with held breath while an old floorboard gave a slow creak overhead.

Emma clapped both hands over her mouth, but the sheer absurdity of tiptoeing through her own inn like a pair of misbehaving teenagers bubbled up anyway, bursting into a smothered snort. Through the dark, Victoria’s composure broke too, giving way to a soft, breathy laugh that Emma felt straight through her chest.

Before the amusement could clear, Victoria leaned in to swallow it whole, pressing their mouths together in a clumsy tangle where teeth bumped and hands scrambled for purchase as they steered each other toward the stairs.

They climbed the risers half-blind, Victoria keeping a firm palm clamped to Emma’s hip while Emma spent the entire ascent trailing open-mouthed kisses along Victoria’s jawline, feeling the erratic pulse thrumming beneath the skin.

By the time they reached the quiet hall of the private wing, Victoria had to break away to fumble through her pockets, fishing out the brass key with fingers that betrayed a distinct tremor.

Emma didn't give her the breathing room. She closed the distance from behind, flattening her chest against Victoria’s back and ducking low to press her lips to the sensitive curve beneath Victoria’s ear.

Victoria let out a sharp gasp, the key skidding completely off target to scrape a loud scratch across the brass plate.

"Emma," Victoria warned. Her voice was strained. "I need coordination."

"You are doing great," Emma murmured against her jaw. She traced the line of her neck with her nose.

With a sharp exhale of sheer frustration, Victoria finally forced the key into the cylinder, twisting the mechanism with enough force to make the tumbler click home. She shoved the heavy door inward, catching Emma by the linen of her apron to haul her over the threshold before slamming the wood shut behind them.

The latch snapping shut seemed to dissolve whatever paper-thin reserve remained. Victoria crowded Emma back against the panels, finding her mouth with an urgency that left no room for caution. Her thigh slotted up between Emma’s legs once more, applying a deliberate pressure that drew a breathless gasp straight from Emma’s throat, making her hyper-aware of the heat pulsing through the seam of her denim.

Victoria took full advantage of the parted lips, tugging gently with her teeth before pulling Emma in deeper. Her hands dropped to catch the hem of Emma’s t-shirt, shoving the cotton upward until her palms met bare skin. The heat of Emma’s stomach yielded beneath her touch, drawing a sharp, trembling intake of breath from Emma’s throat. "I have wanted this since that first night in Oakbridge," Victoria murmured against Emma’s jaw, her teeth grazing the erratic pulse point on her neck. "I have wanted you back against a wall every single day since."

Emma arched her back against the door, a low moan slipping free the second Victoria’s thumbs hooked under the edge of her bra, releasing the clasp with an effortless flick that let the lace fall slack before her fingers traced the straps down the slope of Emma’s shoulders.

"You are stunning," Victoria said. Her voice was a low rasp. She dropped her head, taking Emma’s nipple into her mouth.

Emma’s knees buckled under the sudden weight of it, a loud gasp tearing from her lips as her fingers curled into the linen of Victoria’s shirt for balance. Victoria kept her pinned with an effortless shift of weight, flicking her tongue over the sensitive crest of Emma’s skin while rolling her thigh upward, grinding into the heat between them with a steady, punishing rhythm that made Emma's head spin.

The steady friction drove Emma half-out of her mind, leaving her rolling her hips blindly against the solid muscle of Victoria’s thigh as every nerve ending went raw with need.