Darcy in Hollywood

He laid her gently on one side of his massive bed and slipped her high heels off her feet, trying not to notice how shapely her legs were. He considered removing her dress, but what would she think if she woke up naked? She’d be quite justified in slapping his face. Not to mention that Darcy wanted to avoid temptation rather than increase it. Fortunately, the dress was made of a stretchy fabric that didn’t seem terribly uncomfortable.

In the bathroom, Darcy changed into a loose t-shirt and boxers and brushed his teeth. When he returned, Elizabeth was awake, lying on her back and staring at the chandelier over the four-poster bed. “Oh, this is a bedroom!” she exclaimed. “This is a bed.” Sitting up, she peered at him owlishly. Her delightfully disheveled hair gave her a wanton aspect that Darcy found far too appealing.

He couldn’t help chuckling. “Indeed. And I think you need to sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy.” She scooted to the side of the bed, heedless of how it made her dress hitch up around her hips, and dangled her legs over the edge. “You have the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. Sometimes they’re like the summer sky, but when it’s dark like now…they’re like a deep, clear mountain lake.” Leaning closer to him, she threw both arms around his neck and stared up into his face.

“You are drunk.” He tried to remove her arms, but she clung to him like a limpet.

“Yes, I am, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t handsome.”

A thrill raced through him. He had suspected Elizabeth was attracted to him, but she had never said as much. “And your hair…” Her hand combed through the longer parts on the top of his head. “It’s as soft as I always imagined.”

Her fingers caressed his cheek and skimmed over his lips. Darcy closed his eyes, enjoying the sensations. Under other circumstances, he would take these actions as an invitation. Now he willed himself to inaction, but it wasn’t easy. As he stared at her dress, he could imagine twenty ways to remove it.

And now he was painfully aroused.

He closed his eyes, trying to think of nothing but very old nuns.

“You know, I lied to you.” Her voice was hushed.

“You did?” His eyes popped open of their own volition.

“I told you that I didn’t like you, but I was lying.”

Darcy felt a little hope bloom in his chest. “Why did you lie?”

“Because you’re a sorry excuse for a human being.”

Okay, that wasn’t the answer he would have preferred.

Her hand was now exploring his hair. “Why do you have to be such a bastard?” He hoped that was a rhetorical question, but then she continued. “And make me want you?”

“You want me?”

“Of course, I do. You jerk.”

Darcy was getting a lot of mixed messages.

Warm lips trailed across his neck, over his Adam’s apple, and along his jaw. He should stop her, but…he was only human. Her lips brushed against his briefly. He had been dreaming about this for months.

Darcy’s hand explored the mass of mahogany hair tumbling across her cheeks and down her back. Just as soft and silky as he had imagined it.

“Mmm.” She pressed her lips to his and opened them invitingly. Darcy took the invitation, entangling his tongue with hers in a sensuous dance. She was delightfully uninhibited, holding nothing back and happily exploring every inch of his mouth.

Why, oh why did he have to be a gentleman? Wickham would have removed that dress hours ago. Even Charlie wouldn’t refuse what she was offering.

But he knew Elizabeth, and he knew himself. Their first time—if there were to be a first time—couldn’t be a drunken grope that she might not remember. Even if she might forgive him for allowing that to happen, Darcy would never forgive himself.

Drawing on depths of self-control he hadn’t known he possessed, Darcy gently disentangled Elizabeth’s hands from his body and backed away from the bed. “William…” She made a little moue of displeasure and reached for him. “I thought this is what you wanted.” Her fingers caressed the skin under the hem of his shirt.

“It is. You have no idea. This is what I want more than anything.” He had to pull her hand away; it felt far too good. “But not like this. Not when you’re sloshed.”

“Am I sl-sloshed?” She slurred the word.

“Yes, you are, my dear.”

“Oh.” As if the realization sapped her energy, she dropped her arm and slumped forward. Darcy sat beside her on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair and encouraging her to rest her head on his shoulder.