Free To Conquer Mr. Darcy by Abigail Reynolds Page A

hesitant to meet his gaze while still moved by his kiss, but he would have none of it and tipped her chin up with his finger until she looked directly at him. Her heart pounded at his look of inquiry, and she wished she could give him the love he wanted, but enjoying his kiss was not the same as loving him. It ought to have been the loving that came first. She had never considered that her first kiss might come from someone to whom she was not at the very least promised, and despite the pleasure of his kiss, she was not altogether happy that it had not come in that context. It troubled her deeply that her thoughts seemed to have no impact whatsoever on her treacherous desire for him to kiss her again.
    She knew that she must respond to him, and that she must be gentle but firm. “I believe that most people would say that you must not do that,” she said, pleased to find that her voice did not tremble. She dropped her gaze again, not trusting her eyes not to betray her.
    “There is only one opinion that matters to me,” he said, his voice barely stable. He had not meant to kiss her; he knew only too well that she would likely take offense, but the sight of her looking up at him, laughing and so alive, had been more than he could resist. But now it was even harder, for kissing her had only exposed the well of need he felt for her—need that had grown through the long winter of trying to forget her, and had overrun him in those black months after Kent when he believed she could never be his, need that could only be sated by Elizabeth Bennet. Kissing her, even so briefly and lightly, was delicious beyond belief; he responded to it like a starving man in a wasteland, and he was desperate for more.
    Elizabeth knew that she should not remain so close to him, that she should remove temptation by moving out of reach, but her body would not obey her. In an effort to rein in her errant thoughts, she forced herself to think of all the painful moments in their history, all the times she had hated and resented him. She remembered her fury with him after his proposal, and it suddenly struck her as amusing that she could have traveled so quickly from that point to one where she was aching for his kisses.
    Humor, as it had so often done in the past, lent her the distance she needed, and she was able to free herself from the spell of the moment. She looked up with a smile, and made the fatal mistake of meeting his eyes again. The look of raw need in them caused all of her resolve to fail, and her wish to resist him melted into nothingness.
    In his heart, Darcy knew he should go no further, that she had warned him, but he found himself helpless to ignore the desire on her face. If he could not have her love, he would settle for the moment for having her want him. He said softly, “But since I do care about that one opinion, I shall warn you that if you do not want me to kiss you again, you should take this opportunity to tell me so.”
    Elizabeth swallowed hard, searching desperately for the good sense that had deserted her the moment he touched her. Her lips parted as his hand gently cupped her cheek, a touch that reawakened the intoxicating feelings he had created in her, and she closed her eyes to savor the delightful sensation of his mouth meeting hers.
    Darcy allowed himself to take his time with this kiss, tasting the pleasures of her lips, and, as he felt her unmistakable response, permitted a tiny fraction of the urgency he felt to express itself as he deepened the kiss.
    Elizabeth had never suspected that such physical awareness could exist. The sensation of his kiss enveloped her, and she was achingly conscious that she wanted his arms around her, even as she acknowledged that she should not be permitting even this much in the first place. It took all her determination to keep herself from embracing him and pulling him closer. After what seemed far too short a time, he drew back, his breathing was ragged and his eyes dark with