Lizzie was glad that the house was empty, because they eventually had to leave the den. And it was glaringly obvious what had just happened.
Their eyes were light, reflecting off each other, and their body's constantly were touching by either a shoulder, or a foot. Or lips.
And right now it was all of those at once. They were pressed together against a kitchen cabinet making a further mess of each other's hair, or clothes.
Darcy's vest and tie hung limply around his frame, the topmost buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. His hair was standing straight up from where Lizzie had run her fingers through it.
And she wasn't much better. Her hair was in tangles, and her dress was bunched up in the most unflattering of ways. And don't get started on her makeup, all smeared and smudged as it was.
But this view of each other, this raw, rumpled sight was what matterd most. It was the first view of each other where the outfit wasn't perfectly planned to the last detail. It was rumpled, tangled, and messy. And it made them love the other all the more.
