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It was the last defense, he had broken through. With one step, he closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her forward, crushing his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Margaret knew, the second Silas’s mouth met hers, that this was not like their kisses before. It was not the desperate kiss from when he’d found her, lonely and teary-eyed at the pub, nor the sweet, exploratory kisses from the carriage. This kiss demanded, this kiss dragged something out of her, something feral and pulsing with a desire she had never known. All she knew was that she needed him, needed him in a way that threatened to destroy her with every moment that she wasn’t touching him or tasting him.

And he clearly felt the same way about her.

His hands were all over her, racing down her back, cupping her ass, in her hair, and then his mouth was pulling away from her mouth as he kissed along her jaw and ran down her collarbone, dipping closer and closer to her breasts. She grabbed him by the shirt and tugged him down until they were both on the bed of grass, on their knees, kissing as if life would end if they stopped.

Now, with them both on nearly the same level—damn him, did his torso have to be long, too?—she could better address his shirt, and she fought to get it over his head. Once he was free of it, her fingertips skated across the hard planes of his chest, his stomach. His mouth was moving again, on her neck, kissing and swirling his tongue on a soft, tender spot that made Margaret’s body shiver and her toes literally curl.

“Silas,” she gasped, and one of his hands came up to pull her closer still while the other cupped one of her breasts, kneading the tender, aching flesh there and sending heat flooding through her.

It had never felt like this. Never had she felt as if every cell of her body was vibrating with want, as if his every touch could be what sent her over the edge.

And she still had her dress on.

She pulled the fabric up, but it tied somewhere horribly inconvenient by the neck, and she didn’t have time. Not with Silas’s hand still massaging her breast, not with the other hand disappearing up under that fabric to run a rough thumb across her thigh.

“The wound’s gone,” he said against her throat where he’d been kissing her.

“M-magic,” she stuttered, as his hand slipped higher, now at her inner thigh, working close to where she was dangerously wet.

“Margaret,” he said, practically shivering against her as his thumb brushed across her center.

Her own hands ran down his abdomen to where his pants were bulging considerably against her. She was dizzy with the need to touch him, her fingers making quick work of his trousers so that she could reach in and graze the hardness waiting for her with her fingers.

God, he was so hard for her. So hard and so close.

And she was still wearing the damn dress.

“Silas,” she breathed. “My dress. I can’t . . . I can’t take it off.”

Their eyes met, dark with lust, his glasses fogged. His thumb was still circling teasingly over her, making her shake with need.

“Do you want me to rip it?” he asked.

She nodded. In a moment, his hands were gone, leaving aches where he’d taken back his touch, and there was the sharp tear of fabric and the release of pressure on her back and waist. He’d ripped her dress at the bodice with one clean motion, as easily as if it had been a piece of parchment. He pulled it down, releasing her swollen breasts.

He gently pushed her back onto the grass and captured one of them in his mouth, kissing and licking at her nipple to send shock waves back down through her.

As he worked, she shimmied free of her destroyed dress, kicking it off so that the entirety of her skin, save for a pair of cotton underwear, was bare beneath the moonlight. As the pleasure zipped through her, she attempted to tug Silas’s trousers free of his body.

She felt him smirk against her chest.

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

“Silas, if you won’t help me,” she snapped, “I swear to god I’ll—”

He captured her mouth with his, kissing her until stars burst behind her eyes. At the same time, he used a free hand to pull his trousers down and kick them off, along with his own underwear, until she felt his soft skin hovering just above hers. Blindly, she reached below to run her hand along the length of him, enjoying how now it was him who was trembling at her touch.

“You are trying to kill me,” he said, laughing against her mouth before pulling back to look at her. “You’ve been playing the long game, I see.”

She laughed, still running her hand up and down him. “A very long game.”

He twitched in her hand, and he groaned.

“I need you,” she said seriously. “Please, Silas.”