Finally, finally he was going on his first date with Lizzie Bennet, and he had planned absolutely everything. He was completely prepared. Gigi had basically dressed him, rejecting his choices with groans of "Seriously?" and "You are hopeless." He wore a deep maroon dress shirt with a grey, almost silver tie, and a black sport coat. He thought it was a little flashy, but Fitz had agreed with Gigi, and he was outvoted. He'd spent all day getting ready, and all week obsessing to Gigi and Fitz. He'd reserved them a table at one of the nicest Italian restaurants in town, and he'd looked up nearby cafés in case they wanted to go somewhere after. Just in case, he'd informed his house staff that they might be coming back to his house (Not like that, of course. This was only the first date.) so that they could prepare the house in time. "There is such a thing as being too prepared, Will. Damn," said Gigi. Yes, he was completely prepared.

The one thing he'd overlooked, of course, was the part of the date that mattered most.

As they walked to his car, his heartbeat started to speed up. Soon he'd be dropping her off at home, and they'd have to do the end-of-the-first-date-goodnight dance. Why hadn't he planned for this? He'd planned for everything-literally, right down to how far in advance he should brush his teeth-except for this. Should he kiss her?

Of course you should! Said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Fitz. They'd had a wonderful time, he was sure of it. She complimented his restaurant choice twice, she laughed when he wasn't being funny, and she smiled at him like she didn't have to try. She kept saying his name, which was a good sign. And she'd started calling him 'Will' which he really, really liked. Best of all, she touched him. Their knees brushed under the table, she touched his forearm while they talked, and she accepted his hand when he helped her into and out of the car.

He wasn't delusional this time, it had been a successful first date. Then again...she had just started to like him. Given their past, was this moving too fast? There was a time, not so long ago, when this woman hated him. Panic rose in his chest, as it always did in stressful social situations. But this was different. This was more nerve-wracking than anything. This was Lizzie.

He realized with a start that Keith, his driver, had spoken to him.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, 'Where to?'" Keith said with a knowing smirk. He'd known Darcy practically his whole life, and he'd never seen a woman have this effect on him. Darcy blushed.

"Oh, uh, what's your address?" He asked, turning toward Lizzie. To his surprise, she looked disappointed.

"My address?" She asked, and she was doing that thing people did that meant she was trying to say something besides what she was actually saying. Darcy almost never understood these subtle social cues, and Lizzie was no exception. Whose else's address would he give Keith? Wait. Unless she meant...

"Well, yes. Unless...we could go to my place," he said, wishing he'd said something besides 'my place', "if...if you wanted to see it. We've just retiled the kitchen." He was rambling, and possibly bragging. Definitely making an ass of himself.

"Oh, I'd love to!" she said enthusiastically, smiling at him. God, her smile was beautiful. And infectious. Perhaps it was just because he'd been awarded so few by her, but her smiles always made him smile in return. His heart was racing. They were going to his house. Right. He had planned for this. Everything would be fine.

Everything was not fine. On the off-chance that she came home with him, he was supposed to give her a tour of the house, ending in the garden next to the Koi pond. Gigi said it was romantic, and they could talk and he could give her his jacket and maybe, if the timing was right, try to kiss her. But then she suggested that they sit on the couch and his brain froze up. The couch? What did that mean? Should he sit right next to her, or leave some room? Should he put his arm around her? It seemed like after all these months of knowing her, she shouldn't still make him this nervous. When he was around Lizzie, he felt like a teenage boy again, usually in a bad way.

He settled on sitting a few inches away from her, unconsciously leaning toward her. She immediately kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her body, and he tried to act as comfortable as her. He noticed he was absent-mindedly playing with the tassels of a grey throw, which probably made him look nervous. He folded his hands together and placed them in his lap. That's casual, isn't it?

They'd been silent for a while, maybe a little too long. He should probably say something. Right as he took a breath to speak-

"I'm really glad you took me out tonight," said Lizzie, and she smiled and reached for his hands. She unfolded his fingers and intertwined them with her own. He kept his eyes on their hands as she did this, and when he looked up he found her face distractingly close to his.

"So am I," he said, his voice doing little to conceal his nerves. Should he say something else? Should he change the subject? All the conversation topics he'd rehearsed with Fitz seemed to fly out of his head, and all he could think of was her. She was still looking at him intently, and she'd moved even closer. His hand was sweaty. "I've waited a long time," he continued, his voice noticeably lower. "I...I hope…" He hoped what? He had no idea where he was going with this sentence and he was burning up under her gaze and-

Suddenly, before he could understand what was happening, her lips were on his. He was too shocked to move, let alone kiss her back, which is probably why she pulled back and looked him questioningly in the eyes. His brain finally caught up to him then-Lizzie Bennet was kissing him. And she'd stopped because he was sitting there like a dead fish (or a robot). He was sure he looked quite stupid, with his flushed cheeks and wide eyes, but he knew he had to do something, so he leaned in.

The second kiss was much better than the first, and much less awkward. Her lips were soft, yet demanding, and occasionally he would just barely feel her tongue. He was delighted that she seemed as eager as he felt.

Maybe more eager, he thought, as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her to him, and her tongue massaged his. He was quickly losing control, and his thoughts were becoming less and less coherent. She moved her hands into his hair, running her fingers through it and pulling his head down to hers. She took his lower lip between her teeth, dragged her nails along his scalp down to his neck, and let out a little sighing moan, all at once.

All reasonable thoughts and judgements exited his head, and he pulled her impossibly close, attacking her mouth with his. They were both moaning, panting, running each others hands over necks, shoulders, hair, pulling each other closer but not nearly close enough. He thought he might explode when she climbed on top of him, straddling him and facing the back of the couch. She sat directly on top of his hard-on- which he was momentarily embarrassed about, but couldn't quite manage to care-making him even less composed than he already was. Her lips were on his neck, kissing, sucking, biting, and he was trying desperately not to buck his hips up against her. He couldn't help the moan that escaped him as she nibbled on his earlobe, her hot breath on his neck. He had never felt so happy, so euphoric, or so excited in his entire life. She was in his arms, pressed up against him, and she felt so soft, so perfect. This was happening so fast. Looking back, he would never understand how he'd had the self-control to croak out "Wait".

She pulled back, clearly confused. God, she was beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a mess, and her lipstick badly smudged.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"I-I didn't want this." He managed, and her expression turned to mortified.

"Oh, okay. I-I just-I thought-"

"No, I didn't mean-" Once again, he'd said the wrong thing. In his defense, she was still pressing against his obvious arousal and he couldn't think very straight.

"I wasn't planning on doing this on the first date. I wanted to be respectful of you. I-I'm sorry if I got carried away." He avoided her gaze.

"You got carried away?" she asked, incredulous. She laughed, then quickly became serious. She put her hands on his face, forcing him to look at her.

"Well, plans can change. Do you want it now?" She asked, and-Oh, God-ground into him, hard.

"Yes," He choked out.

"Do you want me?"

"Y-yes," he said, barely caring that his voice cracked because she was doing it again, moving back and forth and pressing her hips down on his.

She leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Then take me, Will."

To Be Continued...