Mr. Darcy's Kiss
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Mr. Darcy’s Kiss
Krista Lakes
Zirconia Publishing, Inc.
Contents
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
If you liked this story
About the Author
Further reading
About This Book
Rich.
British.
Hot as hell.
Elizabeth Bennett has never appreciated any of these traits in a man. So when Mr. Darcy, billionaire British playboy and GQ’s Bachelor of the Year, meets her at a function, she’s surprised at how attracted she is to him.
That is until he puts his foot in his big, arrogant mouth.
The slap that she gave him got her thrown out of the biggest fundraiser of the year, but the mark she left on Mr. Darcy won’t leave his mind.
The second time that they meet “on accident”, he turns up the arrogance even more.
The third time, he tries flowers.
By the fourth time, he’s wearing a cup to protect himself.
Mr. Darcy is the last man in the world that Elizabeth could ever be with. However, love makes fools of us all, and the one man that she can’t stand is the one man she can’t resist.
Can Mr. Darcy’s kiss win over the heart of Elizabeth Bennett?
Join New York Times bestselling author Krista Lakes in this modern retelling of Jane Austen’s beloved “Pride and Prejudice”.
I kept dancing across the dance floor, moving my hips and having fun. I could see Lydia out of the corner of my eye shaking her booty and having a great time. For once, I wasn’t worried about her getting kicked out. She seemed to be behaving herself.
A cute man came up and started dancing with me. He was mid-height with blonde hair and a couple of tattoos peeking out from under his shirtsleeves. I offered my hand, and he spun me into him, putting his hands on my hips and moving with me to the music.
At first, the dance was fun. Cute-guy kept his hands on my hips, pulling me into his body and moving to the music. It was worlds away better than dancing with Collins, but then he started going too far. He grabbed my ass instead of my hips, and he didn’t let me go as he thrust his pelvis into me.
I stepped away, no longer enjoying what was going on. I wanted to dance, not to be groped.
“Come on, baby,” he said over the music, flashing me what I assumed was his best smile. He was no longer Cute-guy. He was now Cute-but-awful guy. “It’s just for fun.”
“I think I’m done,” I said, turning to leave, but he grabbed my hand.
“Just another dance, baby,” he cooed. “I’ll behave. Until you don’t want me to.”
I tried to wrench my arm from his grasp, but he was much bigger and stronger than me. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I play nice until he let me go and then run? Should I kick him in the balls? Scream bloody murder?
“She said she’s done,” a strong voice said behind me. I turned to find Mr. Darcy out on the dance floor. For the first time since meeting him, I was glad to see him.
“Wait your turn,” Cute-but-awful guy told him. He still had my wrist in his hand.
“No,” Mr. Darcy said, putting his hand on my shoulder. He looked dangerous. “Either you leave now, or they help you out.”
He nodded to the three muscle-bound bouncers in black watching them. Cute-but-awful guy dropped my wrist.
“You need to chill, man,” Cute-but-awful guy said. He blew me a kiss and walked away.
I stood there on the dance floor breathing hard even though I wasn’t moving. Mr. Darcy had rescued me. I knew I could have done it myself, but his method was way more effective and didn’t involve bodily harm.
“Thank you,” I told him over the music.
He shrugged like it was nothing. “May I have the next dance?”
He held out his hand, waiting for me to take it.
I hesitated. Not because I thought he would end up like Cute-but-awful guy, or because I didn’t want to. I really wanted to dance with Mr. Darcy. I wanted to dance and then do so much more than dancing. And that’s what scared me.
“You may,” I replied.
“Because I want to know why,” I replied, taking a step toward him. I wanted to get under his skin and annoy him as much as he annoyed me. I wanted him to think of me the way I did him: often and without meaning to.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He was close to me now. I didn’t remember taking quite this many steps into him, but I was close enough now to smell his cologne. I could see the blues and grays of his eyes and the small spot he missed shaving near his earlobe.
How did he infuriate me so easily? Why did being near him cause my heart to go crazy and my ability to think disappear? I glared up at him, riled and looking for a fight. I wanted to get a reaction out of him. I wanted him to react to me.
I wanted to knock him down and kiss him, and I wasn’t sure it was in that order. The space at the arch of my legs ached for something only he could give me. I hated him, yet my body wanted his touch. Lust surged through me in hot waves.
I hated that I wanted him, but that only made me want him more.
How did he get under my skin and turn me on?
Without thinking, without my brain’s permission, my body leaned forward and kissed him.
And oh, God, did it feel good.
Every part of my body sang with need and kissing him made it better and worse at the same time. He threaded his hand behind my head and into my hair, kissing me back.
And the man could kiss. His lips were soft, yet demanding. He tasted better than he had in any of my dreams. Sweet, yet rich with hints of champagne.
Before I knew what I was doing, I wrapped my arms around his neck, not letting him go. I needed his kisses, his touch, and so much more. I needed him more than I needed to breathe. I hated him and needed him in equal parts.
What in the world had he done to me? I went from hating him to wanting to screw him in the space of a single kiss.
“We should go someplace less public.” He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper the words, and even then that was too long.
I nodded, hating that he pulled away from me. My body ached to feel him against me, and even though I knew I would get more, I hated that I didn’t have him that instant.
He grabbed my hand. With my lips still tingling from Mr. Darcy’s kiss, he pulled me away from the crowd.
To my writer friends
Thanks f
or keeping me sane (ish)
Chapter 1
“Will you hurry up? We’re going to be late,” Lydia complained. She leaned against the bathroom door and watched as I finished putting the last touches on my mascara.
“And what?” I asked, turning to look at her. “We’ll miss the waiters walking around with the little trays of fancy hot dogs you don’t like? You’ll live. Promise.”
My little sister rolled her eyes at me. For being twenty-one, she still had all the abilities of a teenager in the eye-roll department. She took a deep breath like I was trying all of her patience and checked her hair in the mirror one more time.
“I guess it is fashionable to be late,” she said, smoothing down her dark hair. “We’ll look more important and more people will be able to see us arrive.”
I couldn’t help but shake my head. It was hard to believe we were related sometimes. We both had the same slim build, dark hair and dark eyes, but the similarities ended there. She was impulsive, naive, and fame-hungry, which drove me absolutely batty. She was sure she was the center of the universe.
I, at least, acknowledged that I was only the center of the solar system, not the entire universe.
“Have either of you seen my silver earrings?” our roommate Jane asked, poking her head into the bathroom and looking around. “Oh, you’re wearing them, Lydia.”
“They look so much better on me,” Lydia replied with a shrug. “You should wear the blue ones. They bring out your eyes.”
“Can you at least ask next time?” Jane asked, crossing her arms. She managed to look beautiful and statuesque even though she was angry. She always managed to look beautiful and statuesque.
“Fine,” Lydia replied with another classic eye roll. “But you know I’m right.”
It was Jane’s turn to roll her eyes.
“Lizzie, you’re sure this is a fancy, exclusive event, right?” Lydia asked, pushing up her cleavage in her skintight black dress. “Famous people will be there?”
I sighed. “Yes, Lydia. It’s the main fundraising event for the two major hospitals in New York City. It’s super fancy, and it’s super lucky I even won these tickets. We couldn’t afford to go otherwise.”
“Good,” she replied. She frowned as she watched me put my mascara away. “Elizabeth Bennet, you need to put more mascara on. I can barely see your eyes.”
“Are you serious?” I asked her. I was already wearing about ten pounds of makeup. I felt like I’d been getting ready and putting makeup on all day.
“Yes,” Lydia replied, reaching into my makeup bag and handing me back my mascara. “You need to look like you belong at this party.”
“Why can’t I just be me?” I asked her, not putting any more mascara on yet.
“Because you aren’t fancy,” Lydia replied. “You’re smart, and you’re sweet, but I swear, you’d go in a ponytail and your work scrubs if I let you.”
“No, I’d at least wear this dress. I like the fancy dress,” I informed her. The floor-length gown hugged my curves as it made its silky dark blue way to my feet. It had just enough of a hint of sparkle in the fabric to make me feel like it had been blessed by a fairy godmother. The dress was awesome. I stuck my tongue out at Lydia, and she just pushed the mascara at me again.
“I’m glad you’d at least wear the dress,” Lydia replied. “It is designer. I still can’t believe you found a Prada dress. You look amazing, but you have to finish it. More mascara.”
I sighed, but I put on another layer. I looked up in the mirror and shook my head at the stunning woman looking back at me. Lydia was right. I looked amazing, but I didn’t look like me. I looked like a Barbie-doll version of me. I couldn’t imagine how women did this every day. It was exhausting getting this done up.
“Oh, did you two hear?” Lydia asked watching me like a hawk. She motioned for another swipe of mascara. “The penthouse of our building is rented out for the rest of the year.”
“Really? I thought it was considered too expensive for the market.” Jane looked surprised as she put in the blue earrings. They really did complement her cornflower blue eyes perfectly. They even brought out the soft gold in her hair. Not that we’d ever tell Lydia she was right.
“It is way overpriced,” Lydia confirmed. “But, supposedly, it’s this business guy worth millions. The money means nothing to him. He just wants to be near Central Park while he opens some new business ventures, so he’s renting the place. It’s so exciting.”
I stepped back from the mirror. “Why are you so excited? He’s not an actor. I thought you wanted to be a movie star.”
“I will be a movie star,” Lydia corrected me. “But he’s rich. Rich buys access to fame. Famous people hang out with rich people.”
“I still don’t get it,” I told her, shaking my head. “How is meeting this guy going to make you an actress?”
“If I can be arm candy for a night, or if he meets me in the elevator with his famous friends-I’m in,” she explained. “I’d be famous in a heartbeat. Once I’m famous, I’ll have all the roles I can handle. It’s an opportunity most people would give their right arm for.”
“Oh, I get it.” I nodded and put the mascara away. “New neighbor is definitely arm-chopping off potential.”
I motioned to my face, and Lydia nodded her approval before leaving the bathroom. I turned to Jane when she was gone. “I’m surprised we don’t see more armless people walking around given the kinds of opportunities here.”
Jane snorted and pushed me out of the bathroom.
Lydia was waiting impatiently by the front door of our apartment with our jackets. They looked shabby compared to our gowns, but there was nothing to do about it now. Lydia had found a company that rented high-end clothing, so we all dressed to the nines in clothes we could never afford. Other than our jackets, of course.
The three of us were going to the most significant hospital fundraising gala in New York City. Every year, the two major hospitals joined forces to put on a black tie event. It was next to impossible to get tickets, but since I worked at one of the hospitals, I had managed to win some at a work raffle. Lydia was sure that someone rich and famous would notice her, and thus this gala was her ticket to fame and fortune.
“Are you two finally ready?” We nodded, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’ve got this, Lydia. It’s your night to be a star.” She peeked one eye open and glared at Jane and I. “Don’t screw this up for me.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. I wasn’t as good at it as Lydia, but I could roll with the best of them. Lydia ignored me and walked out into the hallway. I followed, doing my best not to trip on my dress.
“Hurry up,” she called as she pressed the button for the elevator. “Unless the new penthouse guy is in the elevator. Then you two can be as slow as you like so I can talk to him.”
Jane closed the apartment door behind us. “You and your dreams,” she said, shaking her head and smiling. “I hope they all come true.”
It wasn’t crazy to think that a millionaire might be living in our building soon. Jane’s parents had purchased the apartment back in the eighties as an investment property. It was just a hop and a skip away from Central Park, and what had once been considered a sketchy neighborhood was now prime real estate. The apartment was worth well over ten times what they paid for it.
Jane owned the apartment now. She shared it with Lydia and me for practically nothing since we were as good as sisters. Jane’s parents died a few years ago, and we were the closest thing she had left to family. It was the three of us against all of New York, and we had a fantastic apartment to work out of.
It was a short cab ride to the Ritz Carlton hotel for the fundraiser. Since it was black tie only and incredibly exclusive, all of New York wanted to come. The place was packed with expensive cars and flashing camera lights. We stepped out onto the red carpet leading up to the main entrance and felt like movies stars.
I could see why Lydia wanted this feeling all the time
.
Inside, beautiful people wearing beautiful clothing walked around the hotel. We dropped our coats off at the coat check, and for the rest of the night, there would be no way to tell that we didn’t belong with the rich and famous.
I smoothed the silk fabric on my dark blue gown, glad I had listened to Lydia’s advice on renting the dress. My go-to little black dress would not have fit in with all the designer gowns walking around. I would have felt incredibly out of place.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” Lydia bounced up and down and pointed. “It’s Layla Falls! She’s here!”
“Who?” Jane asked, looking around. “Who fell?”
“No, Layla Falls, the movie star,” Lydia explained, pointing Jane in the right direction. “She just released a new movie. She’s so famous.”
Lydia looked like she might faint with joy.
“I doubt you’ll get close to her,” I told her, pointing to the three men in dark suits wearing earpieces that stood beside the movie star.
“Oh, I will,” Lydia assured me. “We’re going to be best friends by the end of the night.”
“You say she’s famous?” Jane asked. “I don’t recognize her.”
“You don’t recognize anyone if they aren’t a French Post-Impressionist painter,” Lydia replied to our friend. “She was in that action movie this summer. She’s rumored to be making a medical drama next, so being here is probably research. Hospitals and all.”