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His hands moved to her waist and held her to his body. Then he was lifting her, forcing Margaret to wrap her legs around him lest she fall. Still embraced in a passion-filled kiss, he turned and carried her to the desk, sitting her on its edge.

“What are ye doing?” Margaret gasped as she pulled her lips away.

“What I should have done days ago,” Lysander growled.

That made her heart rate spike. “What….” She caught her tongue when his head moved down and his lips started sucking her neck.

“Oh…” she moaned, leaning back, closing her eyes, body quivering at the feel of those wet kisses against her skin. “Lysander…”

He gripped her thighs and squeezed as he continued to kiss.

On instinct, for she had nothing else to go by, Margaret opened her legs, still leaning back as he smothered her neck and nape with kisses.

She did not know where this was going. She did not know what would happen after.

More confusion? Would this muddy the waters even further? Who the hell cares?

The duke’s hand started to slide up the skirt of her dress. Her eyes snapped open, and she lurched back. “What are you…”

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, holding her stare. His eyes bore into her, and she could see her reflection in them; a reflection that was all the answer the duke needed because there was little chance of her stopping him.

“I… I…” Not once since this marriage began had Margaret truly known what she wanted. That was until this very moment.

Why fight it? Why deny it? I want one thing and one thing only, and if I keep me mouth shut for a damn change, I will get it. Oh, how I will.

She smirked as she wrapped her hand around the back of his head and pulled him back into a kiss. And the duke very quickly got the message.

His hand slid up the inside of her thigh. Her legs began to quiver. Between her thighs, she felt herself moisten. And still acting on instinct, she spread her legs even wider for him.

Those fingers next found the outside of her womanhood. He stroked her lips gently, and she gasped, kissing him harder and with more intensity. She held his head, refusing to let go, focusing on the kiss as she felt his fingers finally enter her.

“Urgh…” She pulled her head back, shut her eyes, clenched her jaw, and moaned as the duke’s fingers slid deep in her. Gentle. Caressing. He used just two, pressing them against her walls and stroking in a way that she felt pulse throughout her entire body. “Lysander… what are ye… how are… oh, God!”

He pulled his fingers out, raised them to her mouth, and she wrapped her lips around them, sucking his fingers, tasting herself, staring right at Lysander as she did so.

His eyes flashed excitement, even surprise.

And his grin was wicked as he took his fingers back and plunged them inside her a second time.

“Oh, how you frustrate me,” Lysander growled into her ear as his fingers continued to stroke her.

“I know I do,” she moaned.

“You like to,” he continued. “Admit it.”

“I…” She moaned. “I do… so… so much…”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? This whole time.” His fingers plunged in deeper.

“It’s what you wanted,” she shot back as her body shook.

He laughed. “For once, Margaret, you and I are on the same page.” His teeth then sank into her neck, and she cried out as she grabbed the back of his head, shut her eyes, and let him take her fully.

It was hard for Margaret to fathom what happened after that.

Lysander’s fingers pleasuring her. His lips sucking and nibbling her neck.

Her hands raking through his hair and traveling all over his body.

She could not remember either the exact moment that he began to stroke the bundle of nerves at the top of her womanhood.

All she could remember was the way her entire body rebelled and cried out and threatened to explode.

That was how it felt. He pulled her head into his chest and held her there. He stroked her, moving his fingers to the rhythm of her breathing, faster and faster as she began to shake and moan and then scream.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Don’t… don’t stop!”

“Good girl,” he growled.

“Yes!” she cried out as the explosion hit her. As her body spasmed and went stiff, and then melted. “I am. Yes. Yes! Lysander… oh… yes!”

She could not describe it. She could not explain it.

In all honesty, she did not want to. This marriage had been confusing from day one, and perhaps this moment would only add to the confusion.

Margaret could not say. She did, however, know one thing to be true, a point of clarity that she focused on as the duke let her go and she fell back on the desk, hardly able to breathe.

I am hopelessly and utterly attracted to the duke.

More than I thought possible. More than I should be capable of.

Besotted. Obsessed. Choose your adjective, for they all mean the same thing.

She had been confused before, and this made things no clearer. But unlike with their first kiss, Margaret found that she was perfectly fine with this confusion, especially if this was the consequence that she had to look forward to.