When Lizzy awakened the next morning, her friend was still sleeping. Liz gave her an apprehensive look, hoping dearly that Charlotte would not have a hangover after last night. Liz thought that her friend had certainly had a few too many drinks, taking advantage of Colin's persistent attentions. Lizzy frowned. She did not approve of that fool, and was unnerved by the fact that Charlotte did not seem to mind him. Instead, her friend almost welcomed the sycophant man's favors. Perhaps Charlotte wanted to feel loved and wanted, but Lizzy was firmly convinced that her dear friend could do so much better than Colin.

She just hoped the fool would not show up today, or tomorrow, or for the rest of their short vacation. Unfortunately, that was rather unlikely. He did work in their hotel. Oh God, why did they have to book into Rosings Park? That reminded Liz of her other unpleasant circumstance: the room she was currently in. Now, a gorgeous penthouse in Cancun's best hotel would not be considered an unfortunately predicament by most. But Lizzy was not most. She was cynical and mistrustful. There was no free cheese outside the mousetrap. And this amazing room was certainly free cheese. She just hadn't figured out what the mousetrap was.

But Charlotte was happy, Liz told herself, and that immediately brightened her mood. If Charlotte wanted to stay in the glamorous accommodation, then so be it. And if Charlotte wanted to tolerate Colin, then fine, so be that too. It was rare that Charlotte got spoiled, so Liz was willing to step aside and not blemish her friend's pleasure. Instead, Elizabeth determined to regain her own good humor, and take pleasure in the holiday too.

With such bright thoughts, she stepped into the magnificent shower, and hummed to herself as she took her time enjoying the warm water.

Once Lizzy got out of the shower, she heard a firm knock on the door. "Room service!" Declared a velvety male voice that for some reason sounded familiar.

"We didn't ask for room service this morning," Lizzy replied with confusion as she donned on a bathrobe and walked to open the door.

"It's complementary." To Liz's amazement it was Fitzwilliam Darcy who replied, holding a laden tray with breakfast for three. Shocked, Liz took a step back, and the gentleman quickly walked into the room.

"W-William?" She asked, too incredulous to be offended by his presence.

He smiled. "Yes, dear. I brought your breakfast." At this he made a theatrical bow, and deposited the tray onto the coffee table.

Lizzy just stared.

Having ridded himself of his load, William stepped closer to her, marveling at her proximity, rejoicing in her presence. It had been so long! So long since he last saw her, last heard her. How he had wished in those lonely weeks to see her again, how he had longed to hold her! But she had told him not to contact her, and he had respected her wishes. Yet he had followed her here to Cancun, and he brought her breakfast. All those weeks of painful restraint were now quickly forgotten, as he could no longer avoid his yearning for her. Fitzwilliam stepped closer to his Elizabeth, and looked intently into her eyes, summoning every ounce of his self-control not to enclose her in his arms and claim those lips that he had never tasted but of which he dreamed now every night.

Regaining her senses, Elizabeth stuttered. "Why… why are you bringing it? Why are… you… our room service?"

He smiled softly, and at last could not help the overpowering desire to stroke her left cheek. Tugging a stray curl behind her ear, he murmured. "Quite simply because it was my wish to do so. You have no idea how long I've been dreaming of serving you breakfast in bed, Elizabeth."

Lizzy shuddered at the implications of his words. She had long known that Mr. Darcy wished to bed her, but he had never been quite so forward in hinting at it. Clearly, the weeks of separation had not quelled his desires, but instead had made him too desperate to remain polite.

"Please, don't." Her tone held a clear warning. Then her indignation began to surge, just as he leaned closer to her and was about to place a gentle kiss on her neck. "Mr. Darcy, you know full well that I did not wish to see you. Please leave at once."

But he was not deterred. Hurt, saddened, but not ready to simply walk away. He had not seen her in weeks! And now he was not willing to leave her intoxicating presence. "Elizabeth," he breathed out. Then he stroked her cheek again, so gently yet so sensually, that it sent an involuntary shiver of excitement through her body. "Don't drive me away again, my Lizzy. Let me at least serve you breakfast," he finished with a playful smile.

"Well, breakfast is here now. It will be attended to once Charlotte wakes up. Thank you for your care, sir, you may now go." She gave him a very purposeful look, hoping against hope that he would leave her at peace. His presence perturbed her, and his proximity, his touch were simply distressing. She had not been so close to him since the dance at his fateful soiree, and he had never been so unwaveringly persistent, that she was unaware until that moment of the effect his overwhelmingly masculine presence could have on her treacherous body.

"I brought a set for three, madam. Will you not allow me to join you and your friend?" He was still smiling. No, he would not be deterred.

"Mr. Darcy, please," she pleaded. "Don't make things any more awkward than they already are. Leave, sir, please leave."

"Oh God, you are so terribly resistant." He let out a chuckle. Even Fitzwilliam himself was amazed at his present good humor. She was rejecting him again, begging him to leave her, yet he was smiling and laughing. But after weeks of not being able to speak to her, his present position only a few inches from her lovely face was pure bliss, regardless of whether his attentions were welcome. "Yet every push you give me away from your lovely self only makes me want you more, dearest Lizzy," he added, and ran his hand gently down her arm. He smiled thoughtfully, and continued: "You know, I would make the most attentive husband, my darling. I would bring you breakfast in bed every morning. And homemade dinners whenever you please. I would run you a foam bath when you need to relax, and feed strawberries into your beautiful mouth while you are enjoying the bubbles. Back massages and foot rubs when you are tired or cramped; and of course every millimeter of your body would be worshipped by an exceedingly eager man."

He was holding her now, gazing deep into her eyes, and was about to lower his parted lips onto hers, when she shakily leaned away from him.

Lizzy was beyond perturbed. William was so terribly close, his touch so incredibly scorching. His heartfelt words, the image of perfect bliss with such a perfectly attentive man… His gentle caresses, his tender hold, his intoxicating scent, his gorgeous lips so close to hers… His entire being was so irresistible, that she had to forcefully remind herself of the reasons she had for avoiding the man: he had ruined Jane's happiness; he had destroyed the life of Greg's cousin.

"I should slap you," she said at last. But her body, still weak from the impressions left by him, was unable to move.

"Then perhaps I should occupy your lovely hand in a more pleasant manner before you have a chance to do so." And with a slow, sensual motion, he lifted her right hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on the knuckles.

His kiss was soft, yet it burned like fire through Lizzy's skin. When he then proceeded to slowly place a barely perceptible kiss on the tip of each finger, she had to let out a gasp. Encouraged by her reaction, William became increasingly forward, and now encircled one by one each of her diminutive fingers in his lips, sucking gently on the tips of her trembling fingers, and all the while maintaining his scorching eyes on hers.

Only when he had paid his tribute to the last finger, did Elizabeth regain enough strength to abruptly withdraw her hand. "That's… that's enough," she mumbled, her voice trembling, her face flushed, and her legs barely able to hold her up. God, the man was incredibly sexy! If this was the impression left by his firm, full lips on her fingertips, then what delight could be had if she allowed him to kiss and nibble the rest of her body? 'But no, no! Think of George Wickham, think of Jane!'

Fitzwilliam was at once disappointed at her resistance, and elated at the unmistakable signs sent by her body, albeit most likely against her will. It was clear that she wanted him too, that she found him attractive, and that she was physically moved by his attentions. This realization only fuelled his growing arousal, which rubbed painfully against his constricting pants ever since he delivered the first kiss to her unresisting hand. God, if this was the state to which he was driven only by kissing the very tips of her fingers, how incredibly delightful would it be, were he permitted to taste the rest of her body!

They gazed at each other for moments that seemed like eternity, each unable and unwilling to break the look, each lost in a flurry of emotions. She, attempting to reconcile her physical reaction to him with her mental dislike. He, trying desperately to control his overwhelming desire to press her roughly against the wall, and at last claim her full, pink lips as his own.

It was Charlotte's half-awake voice that at last broke their trance. "Lizzy, are you up?" She mumbled sleepily, and stepped into the room.