Page 93 of Mrs Darcy's Moonlight Flit

“I cannot risk your life again. We have an heir to Pemberley—I see no reason to subject you to such danger.”

Her hands travelled up his muscular arms to the wide plane of his chest. He was naked and cold to the touch. Her hands dropped and trailed down the ravine leading to his best feature.

When he hissed a breath, she rejoiced in her success.

Darcy righted his stance in a way that made Elizabeth go perfectly still. He leant in, slowly, in a manner that made time grow thick and elastic. The first assault to her senses was the hot breath wafting down her throat. Then a lock of his dark hair brushed against her chin before his lips descended upon her neck in a crescendo of light touches, nibbles, and bites. For a moment, his cheek rested against hers.

Elizabeth’s heart kicked sharply. She closed her eyes as her body grew feverishly warm, whilst his stubble chafed her skin. She breathed in the smell of clean linen and soap—and the musky scent of his burgeoning desire.Their desire.

Darcy raised his head slowly, as if emerging from torpor, and the warmth left her cheek for a new destination—her mouth. His hands smoothed swiftly over the rise of her hips to grip the swell of her bottom, igniting a flame of want rippling through her body.

Later, she could not remember how they moved to the bed or feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. It was shrouded in a haze of love and lust, but the movement of time was made obvious by the candles that had burnt to short stubs in the sconces. The moonlight shining through the narrow windows cast the furniture into long shadows. Her senses were occupied with reliving the feel of being loved by Darcy.

“It is not only in poetry, you know,” Darcy whispered hoarsely. “A woman can truly take one’s breath away.”

The End