Page 60 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

“You have taught me honesty.”

I rose on tiptoe and kissed him.

At first he responded gently. Then his hand slipped behind my neck, his other arm closed around my waist, and the kiss deepened. We entered the pavilion almost without meaning to.

This time, my dress was dry. The warmth came entirely from him.

Darcy pressed me against the wall, then went still.

“Tell me if you wish me to stop.”

“I will.”

His mouth trailed along my cheek to my neck. The touch of his lips on my bare skin sent a sensation so vivid through me that my fingers gripped his shoulders. He kissed the place where my pulse beat, then the curve above my fichu.

“Fitzwilliam.”

He raised his head.

“Too much?”

“No.”

I took his hand and placed it on my waist, higher than he had allowed himself before. His eyes sought mine.

“Elizabeth…”

“I want to know.”

“What?”

“What I will feel when you touch me.”

His breath broke.

He slid his fingers over my bodice, slowly, without concealing what he was asking. I nodded. His palm covered my breast through the fabric.

The caress was gentle, almost motionless, and yet my entire body responded to it. I arched despite myself. His thumb brushed the hardened peak beneath my dress. A moan escaped me.

Darcy closed his eyes.

“If you make that sound again,” he murmured, “I won't be able to pretend we're being reasonable.”

“We haven't been reasonable since Hunsford.”

He kissed me with a hunger that swept me away. His hand continued to caress me through the fabric, while my body pressed against his with a boldness I would never have imagined. I felt his hardness against me. He pulled back abruptly.

“We must leave.”

“You always have such a sense of timing.”

“I'm trying to preserve what remains of my virtue.”

“And mine?”

“Yours strikes me as dangerously inventive.”

I adjusted my fichu, breathless.