Many thanks to Suz for her usual excellent and quick beta skills. I think you're super!

Our romp begins as a continuation of 'Truth or Dare', in which the pining Darcy finally works up the nerve to kiss Elizabeth during Charles Bingley's bachelor party.

Add a more confident Darcy to a somewhat confused Elizabeth, with a dash of five meddling friends thrown in for good measure, and this is what results...

William Darcy, CEO of Darcy Industries at age 28, possessing wealth beyond common comprehension and sporting a heart-stopping appearance, negligently propped his tall frame against the doorjamb as he took another bite of a Hostess Twinkie. The tumble of memories and feeling of camaraderie inspired by glancing at the three others in the room briefly took his mind off the facts that, one, the confection rolling around his tongue contained nary a natural ingredient and, two, his teeth were beginning to ache from sugar overload. Damned tequila shots always gave him the munchies.

In spite of the pleasant diversions unfailingly found with these men, he didn’t particularly want to be here in the Bingley’s ancestral home. Then again, he would be hard pressed to name another place preferential, save one… and he had left her side after a too brief encounter an hour earlier. However, stay he must, if for no other reason than to avoid disappointing his oldest and dearest friend in the world, Charles, because it was not everyday a man married. The big event was slated to occur in about twelve hours, assuming the group of old chums recovered from the bachelor party now winding down.

He took another swig from the longneck beer perched on a mahogany side table. Gravity beckoned, causing condensation sweat to fall from the dark bottle glass in fat drops when he hoisted it to his lips, thereby marring the finish of his perfectly polished Bally loafers. Darcy swallowed and paused for a full three seconds, then his tongue took a lazy swipe at the Twinkie’s crème filling. Elizabeth, he mused, felt a lot like a Twinkie. He lopsidedly smiled at the thought of their shared kiss tonight, and how sweet and soft she was when he…

“Hey, Darce,” Leo bellowed abruptly, “you ‘bout finished with that thing?” The plinking sound of rattling plastic poker chips skittered through the air as his two companions at the table geared up for their game. “And wash your hands this time when you’re done. You always get that crap all over the cards and it makes `em stick together.” Rich and Mark’s slightly drunken snickers drowned out the soft thwacking of the shuffling cards flapping against Leo’s palms.

“In a minute,” came the somewhat muffled reply. Pronunciation was tricky, he being only slightly tipsy, but with a mouthful of pseudo-pastry. The confection’s wrapper made a delicate crinkling sound as his hands rolled and balled it tightly. “He shoots, he scores,” Darcy announced, performing a wobbly free throw shot, and the cellophane wad sailed towards the waste bin across the room. “Two points.”

“Goddammit, Darcy. That was my gin and tonic you just nailed.” Rich scowled as he fished the wad out of his glass and tossed it into the bin, a trail of cocktail drips marking the path. “Now sit your ass down and let’s play. Or do you have to finish another one of your snack-foods-from-hell first?”

Darcy answered with a non-descript male harrumph, grabbing his still sweating beer bottle and taking a place at the table. He ante upped and distractedly scratched the bottle’s label off with his thumbnail while Leo dealt the first hand. Suddenly, noticing two empty chairs, he wondered aloud, “What the devil is taking Charles and Sam so long to get here?” As quickly as the question was asked, it seemed he forgot it, his concentration then shifting to the fall of the cards, rendering him oblivious to the sidelong glances his three companions slid to each other.

“Umm, don’t know, Will,” Mark hedged, then shifted in his chair and abruptly attempted a diversionary change of subject. “Maybe they stopped to pick up something to eat. Hey, why don’t you put on some music before we play this hand? You know how to work that killer sound system of Charles’.” Leo and Rich agreed quickly, conspiratorially urging him on. “See if he’s got some dance tunes or something upbeat.” Darcy pushed away from the table and started towards the hallway in the direction of the A/V room, which housed the monstrous state-of-the-art system.

He practically grew up with Charles Bingley in this house and, now that Bingley Senior and his wife had passed on to their reward, Charles resided here alone. Having spent countless hours roaming the premises over the past twenty-odd years, both men knew every quirk, every peculiarity, every nook and cranny of the old mansion. They were well aware of the precise location of each creaking floorboard, noisy window sash and obstinate door lock in the old place— most necessary information when they were teenagers, as it allowed them to sneak from the house undetected in the middle of the night.

The three remaining at the table surreptitiously eyed Darcy’s exit, each waiting until he was down the hallway and out of earshot before they quietly began to talk. “Do you think he suspects anything?” Mark started in a low voice.

“No, and I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Rich hoarsely whispered. “Talk about a groom’s gift to the best man.” Leo and Mark stifled guffaws. “The guy can have almost any woman on the planet and who does he set his sights on? The very one who can’t stand him.” Rich threw up his hands and shook his head in exasperation.

“I’d love to have been in that back room when he tried to kiss her tonight,” Leo said and then chuckled. “After knocking him on his butt in front of everyone, she probably ripped him a new one. It’s amazing he came back to the table intact— no blood, no broken bones, all of his teeth…”

“Charles will smooth it over,” Mark interrupted. “Besides, he’s convinced that she really likes him. And even if she doesn’t, he can talk anyone into doing anything.”

“Yeah, but when it comes to Lizzy Bennett, Will can screw it up as fast as Charles can fix it,” Rich replied. “Will couldn’t sit around and plan things to say that would piss her off more than he does just by standing in front of her and opening his mouth. That is, when he’s not staring holes through her.” He paused. “He’s got it bad.” Leo and Mark nodded and grunted in agreement. “But he was in an awfully good mood tonight afterwards for anything disastrous to have happened,” he added thoughtfully. “This could be the thing that shifts the situation around.”

“Did you leave the distributor cap in Charles’ car?” Mark asked turning to Leo, who was dividing his plastic chips into four fat columns.

“Yeah, I put it in his glove box so it would be there for him in the morning,” he answered. “I just hope she doesn’t make them call a cab when she sees Sam and him in the parking lot trying to start the car after closing time.”

“Nah, she’ll give them a ride here,” Rich said. “Charles will see to it, all according to plan.” He looked around the room for a clock. “What time is it?” He secretly considered this another of the group’s harebrained schemes but, in spite of that, still found it all a bit exciting. At the very least, it would be entertaining. Moreover, the fireworks, in the event of a backfire, would be nothing short of spectacular.

Leo knocked over his stacks of chips with the zeal of a five-year old boy destroying a toy block city and then glanced at his wristwatch. “Two-thirty. Should be any minute now.” He faced Mark and spoke in a hushed tone with waggling brows, “Time to get the lad downstairs, me thinks.”

“Hey, Will,” Rich hollered, taking the reins, “go down to Charles’ old room and pick out some classics. See if you can find some Pearl Jam or Motley Crue… and pick up another deck of cards while you’re there, too.” A stifled curse rang from down the hallway in response, followed by the soft echo of receding footsteps heading towards the descending staircase. “Mission accomplished, gentlemen.” Leo grinned at Rich’s self-satisfied smile and all three men lifted a hand each, slapping palms one against the other in enthusiastic high-fives.

"Jeez, timing is everything,” Mark commented in a low voice, as suddenly the men’s attention was directed to fresh voices approaching from down the hallway. “Rich, you’re absolutely sure that lock on the room door is still broken, right?” he whispered.

“Been jamming for twenty years.” Rich eyed the doorway and motioned for Leo and Mark to sit back and relax in their chairs. “And Will’s been jimmying it for twenty, too. Now take it easy and act drunk,” he whispered. Mark and Leo grinned and slouched in their seats.

“…okay, Charles. Where did you say it was?” Elizabeth Bennett’s voice began to ring strongly as she, Sam and Charles approached the waiting group of three and then entered the game room, stopping abruptly. “Oh… hi, guys.” She smiled in an effort to mask her initial reaction, which was at first confusion, tinged quickly after with wariness. One, two, three, she mentally tallied. One’s missing.

The three greeted her hastily, keeping her engaged and not allowing her any questions or comments until Charles interrupted. “Lizzy came to our rescue. Our car wouldn’t start and she was good enough to bring us home.” He warmly hugged her. “We would probably still be standing in that parking lot waiting for a cab if you hadn’t been there. Thank you again.” He lightly kissed Elizabeth’s cheek and released his grip.

“No problem, Charles. It’s lucky that I was leaving early tonight, so it wasn’t any inconvenience to run you two here.” She smiled at him impishly. “Besides which, you promised me a peek at your wedding present for Jane.” She grasped her hands together as if to contain her obvious glee and with dancing eyes excitedly asked, “I can’t wait. Now, where is it?”

Jane, her eldest sister and closest confidant, was marrying Charles tomorrow afternoon and, while elated at the prospect of her sister’s future happiness, Elizabeth was fighting a touch of melancholy over the certain distance that would be placed between them. Although excited about the nuptials, she was feeling a trifle abandoned at the moment and was glad to be taken into her future brother-in-law’s confidence.

“Do me a favor, Liz,” Charles replied, accompanied by his most winning smile. “I haven’t shown it to anyone and I want the guys’ opinions, too.” Sam, Leo, Rich and Mark all agreed vigorously, which immediately struck Elizabeth as odd. She’d never known grown men to be so enthusiastic about a gift for a woman, let alone an entire group of men— especially those in an alcohol haze— unless it was some form of a booby trap. “It’s in my old room downstairs, hanging on the back of the door. Could I impose on you to bring it up here because, as much as I’ve had to drink tonight, I don’t think I should try to negotiate those stairs.”

“Uh, sure Charles,” Elizabeth responded with a hint of suspicion. He wasn't that drunk. And, although Charles had never been anything but the perfect gentleman and his friends had always been very nice to her, something about the situation didn’t ring true. She was beginning to smell a rat. Or, more precisely, five rats. Then it occurred to her that there was quite possibly another rat scampering about the house unaccounted for.

“You remember where it is, right?” Charles asked. The four other men nodded in encouragement and smiled. That did it. Something was definitely up. However, now that her antenna was up, she would play along and see where things led, knowing that if Charles did something really devious, she would have a life time for retribution. She smiled at the thought as she answered in the affirmative and spun towards the door.

She made her way down the hallway, past the A/V room, the library and the study, and took the first step on the darkened descending staircase. The men’s raucous laughter pierced the still of the otherwise quiet house and rapidly grew fainter as she approached the basement. Jane had shown her this room during Elizabeth’s first visit to the Bingley house and she remembered seeing it with a mixture of awe and envy. As large as the house was, the Bingleys had taken over half of the subterranean basement and converted it into what amounted to a huge apartment for Charles while he was in high school. From the tales Jane told, Elizabeth surmised that this was probably a way to keep him safe and sound because the room was devoid of windows and had but one door out.

A door that stuck, she recalled. Jane had shown her how to push in on the door while jiggling the handle when the mechanism was having an obstinate day. But, otherwise, what a room it was! Complete with pool table, wet bar, jukebox, pinball machine, satellite TV and a stereo system— the likes of which she had never seen— the entire affair was a teenager’s heaven.

The lights were blazing in the basement room as she entered quickly. Swinging the door to and looking for whatever was hanging on the inside, she spied the garment bag, which appeared to be part of a set of matched luggage. Owie-kazowie, I can’t wait to see this, she thought in rapt anticipation and, ready to scurry back upstairs with the bag, she reached on tippie-toes to free it from the hook at the top of the door.

Hearing noise in the room, Darcy popped up from behind the wet bar like a happy jack-in-the-box. “Elizabeth!” His masculine shout gave her a startle, causing her to yelp, and then lose her balance from her precarious stretch and fall forward. The door slammed shut.

“Jiminy, Will, you scared the heck out of me!” Elizabeth attempted recovery, panting with a protective hand to her chest and her back pressed against the door. Rat number six, accounted for. “What are you doing down here?” she asked breathily, winded from fright.

“Getting music and cards.” He held up three audio tapes and two packages of playing cards as if to illustrate his explanation. “How about you?”

“Charles sent me down to get this,” she answered, pointing to the bag on the door. She was getting an uneasy feeling about the situation and her mental antenna was bobbing wildly.

“Here, let me help you.” He laid the tapes and cards on the counter, grinned engagingly and walked towards her in a lazy saunter. He sobered with each step closer.

At his approach, she froze like a deer caught in headlights, remembering the electricity of their kiss earlier that evening and not knowing how she would handle a repeat, especially so soon after their encounter. Then she blinked and knew that she had to get out of there. Grabbing the door handle, she turned and tugged it furiously, desperate to escape, her wild emotion layered on top of the residual adrenalin effects of the startle she’d just experienced. Why on earth had she not heeded her instincts and left when she suspected high jinks ten minutes ago? Her battle stopped abruptly at the feel of two warm, heavy hands on her shoulders.

“Calm down.” His baritone voice was like spun honey, smooth, sweet and rich next to her ear. “Let me help.” Elizabeth bowed her head and pressed her forehead to the door in resignation, when she felt a hand lift from her shoulder and move around her to grasp the door handle. He gave the knob a half-turn and then stopped as the situation fully sank in, his heart beginning to do handsprings. Elizabeth… I can’t believe I‘ve got her here alone with me! This is a golden opportunity that I can’t let go, but I need to step carefully so she’s not scared off. Cool and smooth, Darcy, just like I somehow managed at the club tonight and let’s see how this plays out. He turned the handle and pulled. “Well, looks like we’re stuck,” he proclaimed, then turned, and nonchalantly walked back to the bar.

Elizabeth spun around and watched the last half of his retreat with her head cocked to one side in confusion. If this was a set-up with him as an accomplice, as she suspected, then he had just had the perfect opportunity to snuggle close and do whatever it was he had planned to begin with. She had a good idea of ‘whatever’ was and had braced for his advances, but he had immediately walked away instead. After his performance at the club earlier tonight, it simply didn’t make sense.

Curiosity warred with the desire to escape.

Instantly, she recalled the trick Jane had shown her to open the door and, grasping the knob, she pushed on the door… and then stopped. Let’s hang around and see what happens. He might be a pompous ass usually, but for some reason he’s different tonight. What’s with that? Besides, I can get out anytime I want. She nibbled on her lower lip nervously as she made her way to the bar.

Eyeing him cautiously, she asked, “How long do you think it will take before we’re missed and they come looking for us?” She had a feeling it was a dumb question and that if the orchestrators of this folly had their say, the answer would be next-to-never. On the other hand, it might be just until noon, but only then because a best man and maid of honor would be needed in the wedding ceremony.

“I don’t know.” He paused and reached into his shirt’s breast pocket. “Want to split a Twinkie?” She looked at him as if he was deranged.

The next moment he began to pull snack foods from what seemed like every pocket on his person, searching for something else she might like: Atomic Fireballs, a Krackel bar, bubble gum and Tic Tacs. “You’re a walking convenience store, Will.” Elizabeth shook her head slowly with a smirk and began to eye the Twinkie pack longingly. She was hungry. “Okay, I’ll take half.” Darcy grinned broadly, thinking how perfect the whole situation was and that at last he’d even found a kindred spirit in his love of junk food.

After opening the cellophane wrapper and handing her one of the package’s twin rolls, he leaned back on the bar and prepared to savor his half of the confection. Unfortunately, Elizabeth had already taken her first bite and was enjoying it rather audibly. “Ohhh,” she moaned with her head slightly tipped back, “this is sooo good.” She was hungrier than she first thought because, actually, it was the first thing she’d eaten since breakfast that day. “Mmm, this is heaven. I was starving.” Wetting her lips, she closed her eyes and took a slow, tiny lick of the center crème.

Will stood slack-jawed and mesmerized at the apparently near orgasmic reaction Elizabeth was having on the other side of the bar, as his slacks rapidly began to remind him of a tourniquet. Another bite of the cylindrical pastry. This time a small dab of white crème filling remained on the corner of her mouth, which was retrieved in short order by the dart and flick of a wet, pink tongue. The long, rounded shape; crème filling; her moans and tongue… oh, God… the Twinkie as a phallic symbol... I can’t believe that she’s just ruined my favorite snack food for me.

Her eyes finally opened and settled on an open-mouthed Darcy. “Aren’t you going to eat yours?” she asked, wide-eyed and unaware of the near uncontrollable lust she had inspired.

“Uh, no,” he managed to mumble, his eyes still riveted to her, “you have it.” Blinking and regaining some semblance of control, he slid his half over to her and then looked about for a distraction. He knew if he continued to focus on her and the damned pastry, he could not be held responsible for any behavior that would follow. Part one was bad enough and he didn’t even want to think about what the second half might inspire. Come to think of it, giving her that last one was like sliding her a loaded weapon. Grabbing one of the two decks of the cards from the buffed wooden bar top, he opened it and frantically began to shuffle.

The clipped, thwacking sound of the cards was a comforting diversion and Elizabeth moved the last half of the Twinkie to the side for later consumption. “Want to play?” she asked artlessly while eyeing the cards. “We might as well, you know. At least it will be something to do until we’re rescued.” She finished with a shrug and knew at this point she was committed to stay the course because there was no way that she would waltz across the room to the door now and admit to him that she had been aware of how to open it the entire time.

“Sure, I guess,” he replied. “Do you play poker?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth answered, looking around the room for what she considered necessary objects to proceed with the game. “Don’t we need chips, though?”

“Ahh, not if you play using the Darcy method.” He met her inquisitive look with a grin and explained. “It’s a variation of Strip Poker.” She blanched and her mouth opened in protest. “Now before you say ‘no’, we don’t actually take off any clothes. It’s just a way of keeping score and when one of us is out of garments, a winner can be declared.” She visibly relaxed at the explanation. “There’s a two piece limit on each hand. So, all we have to decide on is what the winner gets from the loser.”

“Gee, Will. I don’t know.” Elizabeth suddenly felt completely out of her depth. He could easily outspend her and she was unsure of what she might have to offer that could equal a jackpot he would put on the table. “Give me an example.”

“All right,” he began slowly. “If I win, you have to bring me lunch at work for a week.” He arched a knowing brow in response to her two raised ones. “And,” he quickly added, “you’ll have to make it yourself. No store-bought, fast food or leftovers.” She opened her mouth in protest again. “And you’ll have to bring enough to feed both of us because I don’t want to eat alone… not to mention I want to be sure that it’s edible.”

“That’s steep, Will.” While she was relieved that this game wouldn’t put a huge dent in her checking account, other ramifications were beginning to form in her mind, such as the fierce attraction she was feeling for him now that his haughty persona was nowhere to be found. Her fingernails beat a nervous running tattoo on the bar top.

“Some things are better than money, Elizabeth.” He smiled, leaning forward on the bar to catch her every word, and asked, “Now, what do you want if you win?” She pondered the question for less than a minute and her eyes sparkled at her decision.

“I want you to mow my lawn and wash my car each Saturday for five weeks.” She held up a palm, face out, and waggled five polished nails in demonstration— as if he had doubts concerning how many five actually was. The corners of his mouth tipped up and the mirth reached his eyes. “And you’ve got to be the one doing all the work, not someone you hired,” she cautioned with a wagging finger. Then, relaxed and obviously pleased with her idea, she remarked in agreement, “You know, you’re right— some things are better than money. Although, goodness knows, I’d pay hard currency to see you out there with a lawn mower and a spray house.” She giggled and he shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter because you’re not going to win, anyway, sweetheart.” He made the statement with all the confidence in the world, which served to widen Elizabeth’s already huge competitive streak even further. Her lips firmed in a line and her eyes narrowed at him.

“Deal.”

“You’ve got it.” He shuffled the deck one last time and placed it on the bar, motioning for her to cut the cards. “Five card draw?” She nodded in acquiescence and the cards began to fall into two messy piles. Picking up her five cards and arranging them in a neat one-handed fan, she smiled. “Ante up, Ms. Bennett. I’m throwing in a shoe,” he said with practiced ease. She threw a virtual shoe in likewise and studiously perused her cards. With a pair of sixes, her confidence waned and she decided to discard three. “Stand or draw?” he asked.

“I’ll take three,” Elizabeth said as she reluctantly slid her discards facedown to the center of the bar.

“Got a pair, huh?” He smirked as her three replacement cards flew from his fingertips to land in front of her. “I’ll take two… and I raise you another shoe.” His confidence was starting to unnerve her and she began to wonder whether she was truly in over her head.

“But you haven’t even dealt to yourself for your discards!” she exclaimed.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied carelessly. He knew that eighty percent of the game of poker was the ability to bluff and he had that talent in spades. Unfortunately for Elizabeth, her expressive eyes belied every emotion she felt and she was essentially a babe in the woods with an experienced player such as he. Darcy read her like a book.

Suffice it to say, she answered his bet with another shoe of her own… and lost to his hand, he having three nines. It was the beginning of a most remarkable streak, the likes of which even Darcy had never seen. Hand after hand, she lost… and lost… and lost again, until she was down to her virtual panties.

Then she lost those, too.

“I can’t believe that I didn’t win a single hand, Will,” she huffed. “I don’t know how you did it, but I swear I’ll figure it out and when I do…” She crossed her arms across her chest in exasperation. “No one is that lucky. No one. You could go to Vegas and win a fortune there. I’ve never seen anyone as lucky.” She sighed in resignation. “Oh, well. At least I can take some comfort in the old saying, ’Lucky at cards, unlucky in love’.” She offered him a saccharine smile.

“Would you like to bet on that?” he asked in a seductively, lazy drawl. Her eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in suspicion, an expression she had been using a lot in the past couple of hours, it seemed.

“What do you mean?”

“’Lucky at cards, unlucky at love’,” he mirrored. “I’ll give you a chance to wipe the slate clean with a sort of double-or-nothing.” Elizabeth looked intrigued, but still suspicious. “I’ll tell you what, one cut of the cards for each of us, high card wins. If you win, your debt is wiped clean and you don’t have to bring lunch this week.”

“Double-or-nothing? I’m not cooking lunch for you ten days in a row if I lose, Will!” she retorted.

“Well now, that bet wouldn’t help us ascertain the truth or fallacy of the saying, would it?” He smiled smoothly and watched as her crossed arms tightened. “As I said, if you win, your slate is clean. But if you don’t, you’ll owe me five lunches and…” He paused for effect. “You’ll have to let me kiss you five times.” Her mouth dropped open and he continued, taking advantage of her momentary loss for words, “Now I’d say if I won that would prove the old saying wrong, wouldn’t you? I’d be both lucky at cards and love if that happened, don’t you agree? And if you won, then it might tend to be right.” He picked up the cards and began to shuffle them. “They say that those old country sayings have at least some basis in truth, so that should help you out a little.”

Elizabeth was in a quandary. On the one hand, she could stop now and be obligated to cook and deliver for the next week but, on the other, she could go for it and possibly walk away clean. Even if she lost, she wouldn’t be that much worse off than she was now because kissing Darcy had been… well, it had been electric. Yes, that would pose no hardship at all. She fidgeted and chewed on her bottom lip while considering the possible outcomes and decided her course of action.

“Okay, I’m in,” she announced.

“Good girl.” He positioned the deck face down and swept the air above it with his hand, palm up, gesturing for her to draw. “Ladies first.” She gingerly removed the first half-inch of the deck and showed the bottom card.

“A queen! Yes!” she squealed. Maybe there was something to that old saying after all, thank goodness. Besides, no one could have a continuing streak of luck as singularly bad as hers had been. She eyed Darcy expectantly, waiting for him to take his cut and end the suspense. He smiled at her.

“You draw for me.” She was taken aback with sheer surprise at his gentle command and looked at him in question. Then, meeting her gaze, he gently took her hand and positioned over the deck. “Draw for me,” he repeated, their eyes now riveted to one another. Elizabeth hesitated because not only was this the final moment of truth when she would win or lose all, but it dawned on her then that if she drew a higher card, she would have in effect beaten herself. With an inhaled breath, she picked up the top quarter inch of cards and he squeezed his hand over hers, tingling sparks running up her arm as he turned it over.

“Another old saying shot to hell,” he murmured, glancing down at the now exposed king of hearts. As she groaned in defeat and hung her head, Darcy released her hand and walked around the bar to gather her in a tender embrace, pulling her to his chest. “You know, Elizabeth,” he whispered in his spun honey voice as he stroked her back, “it might be that you were luckier than you thought tonight.” He smiled as he tucked her head under his chin. “Don’t say anything… just think about it later on, all right? I’m sure you’ll come to know what I mean.”

With a finger under her chin, he tipped her face up and gently slid his lips over hers, settling over her parted fullness, much as he had done but a few hours ago at the club. Fantasies held secret for what seemed like forever sprang to life as he felt her arms snake around his neck to pull him closer. He softly groaned as her tongue slicked his lips and found its way beyond into the warm velvet recess, mating with his tongue in a lush, wet dance. Her kiss became the center of his universe, filling him with such pure ecstasy that he thought he would explode.

She broke the kiss with a nip of his lower lip and smiled as she pressed her cheek to his chest. “Elizabeth, honey?” With her ear to his chest, her name was a rumbling caress.

“Hmm?”

“You kissed me,” Darcy stated as if assuring himself of a fact.

“Uh huh, but you started it so that’s ‘one’.” Still staying snuggled next to him, she tightly circled her arms around his waist in contentment.

“I don’t think so,” he replied softly with a chuckle. “I’ve still got five coming, but I’ll give you that it was a very nice try.” He waited for a retort but was answered only by a busy silence. He could practically hear her mental gears turning and stood wondering what she would dream up next. Not one for suspense and having a penchant for being one-step ahead in a relationship, he continued, “Sweetheart, when I use those five as I intend to, you’ll have no doubt of it.” He released her slightly so her face lifted and their eyes locked with each other’s. Her look was doubtful and his own rose in challenge. “And for the record, a kiss doesn’t necessarily require two pairs of lips… sometimes it’s only one,” he cryptically whispered.

“Now, here’s ‘one’,” he murmured, and gently cupped her cheeks with his palms as he slowly skimmed his lips back and forth over her forehead adoringly. While deeply inhaling the scent of her hair, his thumb pads stroked her brows and the darkened lashes fluttered closed. His lips continued their trek southward down the bridge of her nose to the tip, then sliding next over every inch of both cheeks, lavishing each with equal attention. As if on a leisurely meander, his mouth lazily skimmed over hers, again and again in a whisper-soft stroll with both pairs of lips barely parting as he traveled slowly and assuredly, his movements hypnotic in their pattern.

He could sense her body grow slack, relaxing against him while one hand moved to brace her head as it tipped back. Elizabeth felt as if she was floating, being worshipped… treasured. His caress moved to cover the line of her jaw, from side to side, with the rhythm never breaking and his breath shimmering across her skin in the wake of his touch. She vaguely noticed a bracing leg move between her two, followed quickly by his mouth on her neck and a most insistent wet tongue, working the length of her, searching for a home.

As he gently settled into the hollow of the creamy satin skin at her neck’s base, the nibbling and licking began in earnest, and she responded wildly. It was as if she had been lulled to sleep with his feather light touch and then awakened with a jolt, except that every intense feeling seemed to focus on only two places: wherever his mouth was and the area between her thighs. Nothing else in the world existed. Feeling a hand at the small of her back pressing her in and down, she instinctively began to ride his thigh. She simply could not help it. He had discovered a point on her neck with a direct connection to that intense nub of nerves between her legs and it seemed he was literally moving her grinding hips with his tongue, like a puppet on a string.

Then a strong hand pulled her body flush to his and she felt a wet trail slide back up her neck, ending with warm breath dusting her ear. “And when I do begin with your lips, sweet Elizabeth, it will be on kiss number five. And I intend to start there and work a very thorough path over every square inch of your skin,” he whispered.

Her knees buckled and he caught her.

“Now, try to stand up, love,” he said as he righted her, with one hand still supporting her waist. He moved them towards the door and, using his free hand, he grasped the knob, quickly jiggling it upwards with a push. The door swung open easily and Elizabeth’s glazed eyes looked up into passion-darkened ones.

Sonofabitch, she mentally groaned, contemplating the next week of her life… I am so in over my head.