She had always thought his face was handsome, even when she disliked him. She tried not to stare, but even the stolen half-glances gave her enough to assemble a complete picture in her mind. Broad planes of his back. A lean waist. Muscles here and there. Dark hair on his chest trailing down.
Looking at him made her overwhelmed by a shameful amount of excitement. Maybe not shameful at all, for what could be more natural and necessary given what she felt for him and after what they had been through together? It was only shameful if Darcy was not wanting the same thing. He might be far better at managing his desires than she was.
There was a sudden, larger splashing sound, and she saw Darcy had tried to reach for the bucket himself.
“I can do it,” she said, coming near. “Do you want your hair rinsed too?”
He nodded, then went still as she came to where he was crouched on his heels. She poured the water to rinse him and watched it run down his neck and chest. She wanted to lick off each droplet. Her entire body flashed hot at the thought.
He stood, keeping his back to her and wrapping a towel around himself, but not before she had a full view. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. It made her a little faint with pleasure. Not that it meant he would do anything about it with the woman who had refused to marry him.
Elizabeth watched him dry off, a towel slung low over his waist, waiting for him to turn around. He might say they should eat or get dressed, or some other respectable thing.
Darcy turned and when he looked at her, his eyes looked wild and fierce. She felt her heartbeat slamming in her chest. She was aching to hold him tight, but had no idea if he was willing to go to bed with her.
His gaze slid to her lips and then back up; his mouth parted, and he looked on the verge of asking a question. Elizabeth took a step closer and nodded. His eyes went wide, and a shiver moved through him. He slowly walked near, and she looked up at him, feeling the stir of his breath against her lips. They stared at each other for the span of a few shallow breaths.
When he whispered, “I want to do more than just kiss you,” Elizabeth nodded again.
He took her mouth in a deep, demanding kiss, exploring it with possessive sweeps of his tongue. Darcy framed her face with his hands, tilting her head for a better angle. She could have laughed from excitement and relief. She moved her hand to the back of his neck, fisting it in his hair, and she wrapped the other around his shoulder.
He wrapped his arms around her with a groan, pulling her tight against him. His mouth moved from her lips, down her throat and sucking hard. The sensation as he sucked and kissedher made her hot with longing. He tugged away her towel with a rough sound of desire.
When she felt bold enough to push away his towel, his stomach muscles flexed, and she ran her hand up and down him, hard and ready. He whispered her name, and she felt the syllables vibrate against her neck.
She drew his lips from her neck back to her own and kissed him with a frenzied passion. Darcy’s hand stroked her breast, his thumb swirling around her nipple. Elizabeth arched against him, gasping out his name.
He gave her a hard look, and then with one arm locked around her waist and the other still working her breast, he walked her backward toward the bed. Or maybe she pulled him with her as she made her own way across the room, kissing him back hungrily.
He pushed her down on the mattress and joined her, drawing one nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue. He alternated between his mouth and hands on her breasts until she nearly felt on the edge of release. It was astonishing. Then he sat back and swept his hands over her stomach and down her hips before kissing down her body. What he did next was so shocking and arousing she had no words for it.
His tongue moved against her in long, steady strokes as he brought her leg onto his shoulder. She wanted to close her eyes, but when he looked at her and she saw the ardour in his eyes, she had to watch him as he set his tongue against her faster.
“Darcy!”
Thankfully, he never stopped to speak, but he moved a hand to her breast, kneading it hard. Tremors of bliss overtook her, and she cried out. Darcy’s motions slowed, and he pressed lazy kisses to her thighs and fondled her breasts as he moved back up her body, his expression a mixture of pride and fondness.
When he was atop her, he stared into her eyes for a long moment. “I still—” Now his expression looked pained. “I know your feelings do not?—”
“I have made a fine beginning to fall in love with you.” She smiled and stroked his cheek and kissed him. “I think things are going on charmingly.”
“Is that enough for, for this?” Before she could answer, he said in a rush, “If you don’t want…me, we can stop.”
She made a despairing sound and shook her head. “I want you.”
Darcy smiled, and it was the most endearing sight. She kissed him again, giving him all the encouragement she could through the press of her lips and the swift motions of her tongue. The heat of him pulsed against her, and she instinctively tilted her hips.
She gave a cry of surprise, not in pain, but at how good it felt to be with him. He started a slow and steady roll of his hips, staring into her eyes.
“Darcy,” she said breathlessly after a few moments, “I think?—”
“I think you should give me my name.”
How could he speak so calmly while his body moved over her and within her? She marvelled that someone so reserved wanted still more intimacy with her, and she was grateful for it. “Fitzwilliam?” she said purposefully, testing the name.
He smiled, keeping the same languid pace. “Yes, Elizabeth?”
“We can move faster.”
