He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a hunger full of passion. She placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him back. The room seemed to spin.
"That is a very naughty reason," she said.
"Not as naughty as this," he said. With that, he picked her up and propped her on the table.
"Damien, we will be caught," she said.
But that did not stop him. He pushed her skirts up to her thighs and touched her secret place. She moaned.
"I am merely reminding you that you are mine," he groaned.
"I suppose I did need to be reminded," she whispered allowing herself to indulge in the moment.
As he brought her to release, she realized that she had once believed love would arrive as some grand, sweeping declaration, something dramatic and undeniable; instead, she discovered it existed in smaller moments, in a husband who watched over her without asking for praise, in a man who built walls around the world but opened a door for her, in a hand reaching for hers in a crowded room.
Even now, Damien had given them both this stolen moment away from Society where she could simply be Seraphine, not a lady, not a duchess, not someone bound by expectations…
Only his wife.
The End?
