"Do not mock me, Mr. Darcy."
"Why ever not? I thought that was what you wanted. On our wedding night you said you wanted me to tease you."
I knew perfectly well I was being a ninny. But no one wants their foolishness pointed out to them even if they are aware of it. I held my silence as punishment for his lack of chivalry.
"There is no need for us to do this now if you are frightened," said Darcy, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
"I am not at all frightened," I replied in my best attempt to avoid the matter entirely.
"Then why are you trembling?"
"I'm cold," I said defiantly.
"If that is the case. . . ." he let his words trail off, dripping promise as they lingered in the darkness. "I must keep you warm." Suddenly he seized me, pulling me flush against his glorious body, all heat and masculine hardness. It was a little overwhelming to say the least.
When I could again form words I said, "You, sir, are a scoundrel."
"I am, but you are not at all frightened."
"I am not." I had spoken in a show of bravado, but I realized my words were the truth.
Darcy too must have recognized the veracity of my reply for his lips found mine with all due haste.
I believe I have mentioned the tongue thing. It is really quite remarkable. This morning before we were interrupted I think I had just enough time to master it myself though I had by no means grown tired of practicing.
Whilst I was distracted by his kisses, Darcy shifted our positions in one quick, efficient maneuver. I found myself pinioned beneath him, my wrists held by his strong hands, my legs parted by his thighs, were spread wide and fixed to the mattress. This arrangement was perhaps a little shocking, but I was not at all displeased with it. His weight was not upon me, I could easily draw breath, yet I was panting all the same.
My eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, the light from the fireplace gave the room that infuriating quality of the gloaming, some features took precedence and everything else became a gloomy blur. I could see Darcy in profile, I could make out that satirical brow, the aristocratic nose, those perfect lips. I could have counted his eyelashes had I wished to, but I could not discern the look in his eyes.
How much of me could he see? Why was he keeping me in suspense?
I wanted him to touch me. I had become intensely aware of my own topography, certain peaks and clefts wanted his attention most acutely.
He shifted slightly and his battle-ready weapon pressedright there.I released a little sigh of pleasure which Darcy mistook for a gasp of fear.
"There will be plenty of preliminaries. Do not be frightened, my dear."
"It is called preface. And I am not frightened," I corrected primly.
"Does anything frighten you?"
"No, nothing at all."
"Might I light a candle, then? To see you properly," I could hear that teasing note in his voice again. He knew I was still too much a coward to accept his challenge.
"That is out of the question."
He put his lips tenderly to mine. Once he broke the kiss he was back to taunting me. He whispered, "So fearless."
Then he dipped his head, grazing his mouth across the column of my neck, finally arriving at his goal he flicked his tongue over the tip of my right breast, circling that sensitive peak once—twice—no more.
This time he could not misinterpret the meaning of my sharp intake of breath. "Do it again," I commanded.
"Do what again?" he asked with mock innocence.
"Do it again or I will be very cross with you."
He chuckled.
