Okay several of you will be mightily disappointed in both Will and Elizabeth by the end of the chapter. I have written this three different ways and my two most trusted readers told me this is the best and most realistic outcome. For those of you who don't like it - I apologize in advance.
Several of you know what is coming next and have been asking over and over when it was coming. So, finally, it will be here on Wednesday in part 2.
Please keep in mind that I don't write the "juicy stuff" very well. I did my very best. Enjoy!
This Girl Is On Fire
Chapter 8 - Chapter 1
"Looks like a girl, but she's a flame
So bright, she can burn your eyes
Better look the other way
You can try but you'll never forget her name
She's on top of the world
Hottest of the hottest girls say"
Girl on Fire - Alicia Keys
"Wake up!" Jane's voice sounded urgent in her ear. She was late for school again.
Elizabeth snuggled deeper under the covers telling her sister, "Five more minutes."
"No, Lizzy!" Jane punched her shoulder hard. "You don't have five more minutes. Wake up. Now."
Opening her eyes, Elizabeth's hand rubbed the tender spot on her shoulder. For someone sweet and kind, Jane could sure punch hard. She was about to complain to her sister when Elizabeth remembered that Jane could not be in her apartment. Her arm throbbed. The pain was real. What could have caused it? She was slow to lose the effect of sleep. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sat up glancing about the room confused. It was dark. If she had to guess it was well after midnight.
There was a noise. She tried to place the sound. At first, it sounded like a plane but it did not go away. Maybe a hurt animal? A rat? The thought grossed her out. Her sleep-clogged mind struggled. What was it? She didn't think it was an animal - it was too persistent.
As she concentrated, Elizabeth noticed that her dark apartment almost seemed hazy. She rubbed her eyes to clear her vision, but the murkiness stubbornly remained. She coughed once. Then, again. Her throat tickled. She could see the door in her kitchen outlined in orange.
How strange? The lights in the landing had gone out again. The landlord couldn't have replaced them so quickly. He never did anything quickly.
It's a fire. Get out.
Adrenaline rushed through her blood at Jane's warning. Facing the window, Elizabeth pulled hard on the sash, but it would not budge. She smacked the frame trying to loosen it and tried again. Arms straining, escape lay mockingly beyond her reach on the other side of the glass. Thwarted, she turned for the other exit, the front door, but her apartment was no longer dark. It was aglow. Bright, nasty tongues of flame that were not there seconds before, were lapping up, under and around her front door. She watched as the fire leapt from the door to the kitchenette consuming the towels she kept there for drying dishes. The two shelves above the sink were beginning to blacken, the blue contact paper she had applied when she moved in began to bubble and peel. A soft, pathetic chirping sound emanated from the aging smoke detector in the ceiling. She could only stand, frozen in shock.
Don't just stand there, Lizzy! Move!
There was more than a hint of urgency in Jane's voice. Panic-stricken, she tugged with all her might at the stubborn sash but it remained firmly in place. Her lungs began to burn. Pulling a t-shirt from her nearby chest of drawers, Elizabeth fashioned a mask over her nose and mouth. Trying her window again, her clammy hands slipped. Her fingers were useless against the painted wood. Panic rose steadily as did her attempts for air. Her chest tightened. Glancing back, the fire was advancing, crawling toward her, curling the small woven rugs she had on the hardwood floors.
Break the window, Lizzy!
Breathless, she fumbled around her nightstand and grabbed the first solid thing her hands found. Her lamp. She threw it against the window and the glass shattered. Dragging her comforter over the window frame, she carefully wiggled through it before thudding unceremoniously onto the awaiting, cold inhospitable fire escape. For all of her efforts, a bitter blast of October air raked painfully over her as sleet stung her face.
Shivering, she gained her footing to only slip when her bare feet encountered pieces of the broken window. Falling forward, she screamed gripping the railing and preventing a fall. Not trusting her legs, she slid to her butt, grazing her head painfully against the handrail. A kaleidoscope of color filled her vision. She shook her head to clear it and took a lungful of fresh air. Even though she was terrified, she forced herself to navigate the narrow structure slowly. Like a caterpillar, she inched slowly, pulling her body forward and downward. She was conscious of every groan the rickety structure made and prayed it would hold until she was out of harm's way.
It seemed like an eternity, but finally the welcomed firmness of earth was beneath her. She was immediately met by a fire fighter who helped her to a nearby ambulance. There she was made to put on an oxygen mask by an EMT. The efficient medical professional quickly assessed her for smoke inhalation and wrapped her in a warm blanket. Others were already in the ambulances on either side of her. She recognized the old man from two floors above her, the woman who kept cats on the first floor, the young woman with the baby from the top floor. They had all made it out. More survivors joined them through the billowing smoke. Some of their own volition but more often than not with the assistance of firefighters. Some were moaning loudly in pain while others were dull and lifeless.
She knew she must be in shock, but could not tear her eyes away. It was surreal, like she was watching a movie. Personnel dashed about pulling heavy hoses forward, spraying the buildings on either side of her apartment building, others were tending those injured. It seemed wrong that she was sitting and watching instead of assisting. But, she could not budge from her safe perch. Could not tear her eyes away from all that was going on around her. With tears in her eyes, she watched the twelve storey building, her only home in New York, quickly succumb to flames.
"Do you have anyone you can call?" A kindly red-cross volunteer asked when it was clear she was alright.
The idea of going to the hospital when Elizabeth knew she was fine or being alone at a shelter did not appeal. She gave the volunteer Phillip & Malcolm's number, but their answering machine came on. They tried Georgiana next but met with similar results. She even tried Max, believing he could get a message to the fellas, but his phone was out of minutes. No matter how hard she tried, she could not recall the other band member's numbers, having only called them once before programming their number into her cell. Chewing her lip, she gave them the only other number she knew by heart of someone who lived in New York City.
"Elizabeth?" She hadn't really expected Darcy to answer, but when he did, she had never heard a more wonderful sound than his sleepy voice.
"Will." His name came out wheezy. Her throat was still scratchy from the smoke. Even if he was out of town, it was good to hear his voice. He would send someone to meet her. She coughed. She took a deep breath, gasping. The cold air felt like a balm to her lungs.
She heard him fumbling, his voice shedding its sleep. "Elizabeth? What's wrong? Where are you?" Suddenly, Elizabeth couldn't explain what happened. It was too much. She couldn't hold back the emotions welling inside of her and she simply burst into tears. Darcy's voice became increasingly demanding. "Elizabeth? Are you alright? Where are you? Damn it, answer me."
The kind woman who was assisting her took the phone from her to explain the situation. There had been a fire. She had nowhere to go. Could he come and retrieve her? When the woman hung up, she smiled compassionately. "He said he's on his way. He'll be here within the hour."
Of course, Darcy arrived in half that time.
Elizabeth saw him first, a quarter of a block away, striding in that confident conquering way he had. She was glad to have the few seconds to prepare herself. Even though she knew he was going to give her the lecture of a lifetime, the relief the sight of him brought was immense.
When he stopped in front of her, she raised a hand in the direction of the charred remains. "You were right. I should've moved. I should've listened to you." She was determined to not get weepy again, but it was difficult. "Everything's gone, Will. All of my pictures of Jane, the clothes you bought me. Everything I brought with me. It's all gone."
"Belongings can be replaced."
She shut her eyes, suddenly remembering something else lost in the fire. "All my song books, Will. They're all gone too."
"Enough! Not another word about things." Their height was even from her spot in the back of the ambulance. He cupped her face in his hands gently, tilting her chin as he catalogued her injuries. It was impossible not to look at him. Impossible not to see the concern in his eyes. "I paged my family doctor on my way here. I think I should take you to see him just so we can be sure you are okay."
"No," she smiled at his predictability. "I'm fine. I promise. I'm just a little shook up."
Darcy seemed unsure, as if trying to ascertain if she were telling the truth. Finally, he released her. Shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans as he studied the chaos around them. She caught his profile in the semi-darkness. While he didn't look rested exactly, his skin was tan from days spent under the tropical sun. Elizabeth felt guilty for calling him away from his warm bed—and the good friend he was probably sharing it with— to deal with her mess.
"Will, I'm sorry I interrupted your vacation."
His attention snapped back to her. Anger flickered to life in his eyes, but his voice remained gentle. "You didn't interrupt anything." He returned to stand in front of her. "I'm only glad I came back yesterday afternoon instead of staying away the rest of the week." She was glad he was back in New York too. Everything was going to be fine now that he was here. He'd know what to do to put things right. "Do you have any idea how I would've felt if I saw news of the fire and I didn't know what happened to you? How frantic I would've been?"
Lowering her head, because she could not continue to meet his eyes, she almost wished he would rail at her about not moving. Remind her that he'd been right about the place being unsafe. Tell her he had told her so. Be mean. Give way to his temper. She would know how to act to that behavior.
An EMT passed close by just then and Darcy hailed him. The worker confirmed what the volunteer had indicated to him on the phone. Elizabeth was free to go as long as someone remained with her through the night to observe her.
"That's fine. I'll watch over her closely since she'll be staying with me."
Elizabeth made a sound of objection, catching his attention again. "That's not necessary, Will. I can stay in a hotel, or you could drop me at The Hole. You don't have to disrupt your entire evening for me. I can manage on my own."
"Absolutely not." His dark look silenced her. "We're not going to argue about this. You're coming home with me. I will look after you. End of discussion. Understand?"
Exhausted, Elizabeth nodded. Her refusal had been all bluster. She found she didn't have the energy to argue with him. Resigned to her fate, she unwrapped the blanket the volunteer had given her, and his eyes widened at her state of undress.
"Where are your shoes? Your coat?"
"There wasn't any time to grab them." Her tone was sharper than she intended. But, really, did he think she wanted to be out here in only her cow jumped over the moon flannel pajamas? Stepping down gingerly from the back of the ambulance, Elizabeth winced loudly. She'd forgotten entirely to mention the glass she stepped on in all of the excitement of the fire. Walking stiffly forward, she made it perhaps two steps before Darcy swung her into his arms, leaving her no choice but to wrap hers around his neck.
"You said you weren't hurt." He accused.
"I'm not." His gaze narrowed prompting her to add, "Not really. I just stepped on some glass."
There was that anger again playing at odds with his gentleness. "And, when was your last tetanus shot?"
"Two years ago. I'm fine, Will. I can walk on my own. Honestly."
"You are crazy if you think I'm going to let you walk barefoot in all of this mess." He shifted and tightened his hold on her.
"You can't carry me. I'm too heavy. Please put me down." She begged, then she tried to wriggle to get him to put her down, "You'll hurt yourself."
"Shut up!" He snapped, glaring at her. This was more like it. She was familiar with a moody, disgruntled Darcy. "Quit squirming. Or, I swear I'll throw you over my shoulder and give everyone here a nice view of your derriere."
"You wouldn't dare!"
He didn't look like he was joking. She forced herself to relax against him.
Without her struggling, Darcy was able to cover impressive ground. She wasn't surprised to see Sal waiting for them at the end of her street. As her producer lowered her into the back seat, he instructed his driver to turn up the heat as far as it would go. Once she was settled, he shrugged out of his coat and ordered her into it before hauling her across his lap. Wrapping both of his arms around her, he began rubbing his hands against her back, warming her.
There was no sound but hands on fabric for several blocks.
He broke the silence by grumbling, "It's barely twenty out and sleeting. You're soaking wet. You could've caught pneumonia, sitting out exposed like that. How was it that you were barefoot, and no one thought to check your feet? Just exactly how incompetent were the responding emergency workers?"
She thought of all the kindness shown to her on this night. "It's my fault. I didn't say anything."
He said something under his breath but she couldn't make him out until he questioned, "Why didn't you tell someone that you were injured? That you were cold?"
"I didn't want to complain." She admitted as his hands canvassed the expanse of her back. "I just have a few bumps and bruises, and there were so many people with serious injuries."
"Serious injuries?" His entire body coiled. "God damn it, Elizabeth."
She winced at the rough edge to his voice but snuggled closer to reassure him. "I'm okay. Really, I promise. I'm just a little cold."
His hands moved quicker along her back, generating friction. "Is this any better? Are you any warmer?"
"Oh, yes. This feels rather wonderful." Being held so by him was an experience. His body was invitingly solid. His arms strong. His scent clean and exotic. She gravitated closer to him, burying her cheek against his neck. It was safe here. With him. Exhausted, her eyes drifted close.
After they arrived at his penthouse, Darcy ignored her pleas to put her down until he dropped her roughly onto one of the expensive couches in his living room. She made to move off the couch not wanting to stain it, but he warned her, "I am going to get the first aid kit. Stay right there or I swear you'll regret it."
As she wisely and uncharacteristically obeyed him, Darcy went to the bathroom. He needed a few moments of privacy to collect himself. Holding onto the sink he struggled mightily to get his bearings. She should have moved out from that slum the minute her advance check cleared. He'd warned her she wasn't safe there. Repeatedly. Why hadn't she listened to him? Because she was too stubborn for her own good. Because she enjoyed flaunting her ability to defy his simplest request. Because she enjoyed driving him crazy! Suddenly spanking her until she developed a healthy sense of self-preservation or yelling at her until he was hoarse seemed like logical things to do. Deep down, though, he knew neither would ultimately make him feel better.
When he returned to her, Elizabeth was shivering. Of course, she was cold! She was soaked through and left to sit out in the back of an open ambulance in the frosty October air with unattended injuries. Anger resurfaced. He had a good mind to call the mayor about the incident or threaten to revoke his annual donation to the American Red Cross. For now, those calls could wait.
Everything could wait until he tended to her comfort.
Darcy replaced his jacket with one of the largest towel he brought with him. Rubbing her shoulders, he watched with relief as color began to return to her pale cheeks. Satisfied, he shook out a couple of aspirin and ordered her to take them. She obeyed.
Then, Elizabeth glanced up at him looking like some sort of misfit orphan.
That one vulnerable, searching look undid him.
The truth of what could have happened brought him to his knees. She could have died! So strong was the need to have physical confirmation that she was safe, he couldn't help but crush her against him. Her softness was a pleasant reminder of her femininity, her fragility. The instinct to make her his in every way crushed him with its urgency.
Eventually, Elizabeth pulled back from him, pressing her hands against his shoulders. "There, I've done it. I've ruined your coat and now your shirt too."
"I don't care." He whispered. He didn't care. The urge to kiss her was all around him.
Shaking his head, Darcy was determined to do the right thing. He needed to tend to her wounds and not pounce on her like a sex starved lunatic! Dipping a wash cloth in the basin, wringing out the excess water, he dabbed lightly at the side of her face.
Her breath hissed when he brushed her cheek gently. "Is it bad?"
He took in her puffy eyes, the red nose, her soot streaked face, and what looked like a nasty bruise forming at her temple. Never had she looked more beautiful. She was the most glorious sight. "You look like you always look to me, Elizabeth." She frowned and looked at her toes reminding him of her other injuries. "Now let me look at those feet of yours."
Darcy lifted her right foot in his hand. She stiffened but he was in no mood to listen to her arguments. He held her stubborn glance for a few moments before her resistance gave way. Working carefully, he located several small pieces of glass embedded in her heel and removed them as gently as he could with tweezers. When he ran his fingers over her smooth sole trying to detect any other pieces, her calf muscles tightened in his hand and she pulled her leg toward her resisting him.
She bit her bottom lip, admitting, "My feet are ticklish."
Ignoring his body's heady response to this new piece of information, Darcy continued to work. Done, he repeated the entire process with her other foot until he was satisfied all the glass had been removed from both. He picked up his supplies. "Let me see what I can find to get you out of these wet clothes."
After taking the items back to the bathroom, he went to Georgie's room. Not finding anything that appealed in the limited selection of clothes there, he went to search his own. He grabbed the top to his favorite PJs and a pair of new boxers. When he returned to her, he found her still on the couch sniffing the ends of her hair.
Caught, she said ruefully, "My hair smells like an ashtray. I'm rather disgusting."
Disgusting? True, she looked as if she had gone through an ordeal, but she was perfection. "You could take a shower or I can run a bath for you if you want."
"A bath? In a real bathtub?" She closed her eyes dreamily. "I haven't had one of those since I came to New York."
"Well, that certainly settles that." He scooped her up off the couch, carried her through his master bedroom into his personal bathroom. He deposited her gently on the side of the tub before he opened a cabinet from which he retrieved a bottle with crystal flakes in it. Shaking it, he asked her seriously, "Now comes the big question, bubbles or no bubbles?"
"Definitely bubbles." She giggled, the sound causing a new ache within him. "I can't imagine you take bubble baths, Will."
"No, not me." He didn't enjoy them, but Georgie often used his tub when she visited from college. Her bathroom, like the one in the guestroom, had only a full size shower. He concentrated on getting the water the perfect temperature for her. After shaking in some bath flakes, he placed Georgie's shampoo and conditioner along the tub and located some clean towels for her to use.
"I can take it from here." She would not look at him.
"No, I'll stay. You could fall and hurt yourself. At least, let me help you get settled."
A blush deepened across her cheeks and down her neck, bringing delicious color to her otherwise pale skin. "I can't undress in front of you, Will."
"I won't look," he said quickly, not entirely sure if he was telling her the truth.
Elizabeth eyed the enticing water before her. She clearly wanted what he was offering. She looked at him with wide eyes. "Do you swear?"
"I'll try my best not to." There. That was at least much closer to the truth.
Careful not to drop her towel, Elizabeth slipped her legs out of her pajama bottoms, and he knelt, helping her when they got caught on her injured feet. When she was ready, he stood taking the towel and shutting his eyes tightly so she could pull her top over her head. He heard her wince twice and then the splash of the water signaled that she'd settled herself in the tub.
Instead of stripping down and joining her as his body begged him to do, he turned from her and engaged the jets in the tub. He smiled at her delighted squeal. When he finally dared to look, she was buried up to her neck under concealing bubbles.
"This is great!" She beamed up at him, running a finger through the froth in front of her. "I bet you could fit two or three people in here at the same time. It's like your very own mini-swimming pool!"
Elizabeth was killing him, flirting like this. Didn't she know that his self-control was at an end? Watching her, the generous room seemed to shrink. There was only her, him and the inviting tub in which they both could comfortably fit. Should he offer to help her wash? The idea short circuited his nervous system. He took a step back from her.
"I'll give you some privacy. Yell for me when you are done and I'll help you out."
Time passed. The hands on the clock indicted it had. Each minute seemed like a lifetime. He had changed back into pajama bottoms trying in vain to ignore the sensations caused by each new sound he heard coming from his bathroom. What he should do and what he desperately, desperately wanted to do with Elizabeth was tearing him up. Tonight, it was abundantly clear what a failed experiment his vacation had been. Instead of reducing his desire for her, the separation had only made him want her more.
When Elizabeth called out his name, Darcy discovered she'd already gotten out of the tub herself. She'd wrapped a towel, turban style, around her hair and another was secured around her in the valley between her breasts. That fragile makeshift dam of cloth firmly held his attention. The creamy skin beneath it, he knew, would be warm, moist and soft. He wanted to taste her skin. No, he wanted to suck it dry.
"Do you have any lotion I could use?" His mind had turned sluggish as it tried to understand her request. It was as if she was speaking a foreign language. She wrinkled that perfect nose. "My skin turns scaly like a crocodile if I don't put some on right after I step out of a hot bath or shower."
"I'll see what I can find." In his sister's bathroom, when he could get his hands to stop shaking, Darcy found two bottles of lotion. One was floral and thick and he rejected it at once. The other smelled musky and feminine. Definitely, Elizabeth. His mind effortlessly inserted him into the process of applying lotion to her skin and his arousal kicked up a notch. It was becoming unbearable.
When he returned to her, Elizabeth flipped her wet hair back over her shoulders, giving him a welcoming smile as she continued absently towel drying her hair. "You found some, great."
After putting the bottle on the sink, Darcy fled the bathroom. He didn't know what to do with himself. Flittering around, he checked his security system, retrieved water from the kitchen, then double checked the readiness of his guest room. He turned down the bed, satisfied the sheets and pillow cases were clean and fresh. Appraising the room with a critical eye, nothing seemed amiss. She would be comfortable in here. Returning to his own bedroom, he waited and paced like a caged animal.
When the door finally opened, Darcy turned and his heart jackknifed in his chest. Backlit by the light from the bathroom, she stopped in the doorway a moment. His top lingered enticingly around her thighs, and her damp hair curled wildly down her back. The definition of sexy rewrote itself in his mind as she shyly looked at him.
Drawn, Darcy closed the space between them, took her into his arms and carried her the short distance to his own bed. He dropped her on top of it unceremoniously, causing her to bounce once. Giggling, she used her elbows to work herself backwards up to the pillows, fluffing them to her preference. Satisfied, she glanced up at him looking regal, like a queen on her throne.
Darcy's resistance snapped like a twig in a tornado.
Joining Elizabeth was the most natural movement of his life. Something infinitely male growled within him as sudden awareness flared in her lovely eyes. Pressed under the length of him, she could no longer pretend ignorance of his arousal. Her lips parted and there was no force in this world that could have made him resist such a perfect invitation.
Kissing him was like touching an electrical outlet— a zing that had ripped all along the corridor of her body, making her toes curl. When Darcy joined her, she had been startled. Nothing about his behavior that evening had even hinted as to him being interested in her. Surprise gave way to other dangerous emotions as his persistent mouth raided and plundered hers until she was breathless. One kiss became another, each one exploring and conquering more territory.
She had not been the innocent spectator. Oh, no. Her hands had moved over him. One became firmly entrenched in his dark curls while the other played at his shoulders, drawing him closer. He moaned as her hand traveled down his spine, such a sexy sound against her neck. She felt like the beaches of Normandy being attacked on all fronts - touch, smell, taste, sight, sound. She'd never felt so completely dominated by another. Never before felt this strange, restless sense of exhilaration.
But, then, she had never before received the attentions of someone like Will Darcy.He plundered the soft skin from her ear to her clavicle with kisses with all intentions of heading south. Her skin snapped to life at his touch. The scruffy whiskers growing along his chin further heightened her arousal. A power surge rolled in her belly.
With shaking hands, Elizabeth tried to block his intended path. He responded by pulling one hand over her head, his fingers sweetly entwining with hers, while his hot mouth continued toward the swell of her breast. Her nipples were hardening in expectation. She was so terrifyingly close to losing control of her own body. This was madness. The buttons on the shirt gave way to his practiced hand. One nipple disappeared into his mouth. And, the sensation caused her to come off the bed entirely. He lapped at her while his other hand worked on freeing her from the confines of her clothing. Then, she moaned when he gave her other breast the same attention. The shirt was pulled from beneath her and flung away from them. He had been almost vulgar in telling her exactly what he wanted to do to her and was equally graphic in what he wanted in return. Instead of turning her off, it was arousing to hear him speak so.
"I want to be inside you, Elizabeth."
His hands began tugging, peeling her briefs off. Out of efficiency, she found herself being a partner in the endeavor. Freed quickly from her last piece of clothing, his hands followed the smoothness of her thigh upward to the wet apex between her legs. With a deft and experienced hand, he stroked her folds. She was soaked, but forgot all about her maidenly embarrassment when he touched her clit. It felt too wonderful. She could not stop herself from responding, from showing her appreciation for his skill.
Their kisses deepened, the pressing of his body against hers became more frantic. Like a master on a violin, he subtly shifted the position of his hand so his thumb continued the motion she found so pleasurable while one, then two fingers probed her. She moaned. Nothing had ever felt so good. No act. No man. Unable to stop herself, she milked his digits. She was over-stimulated and found herself wanting so much more of him.
Suddenly, he stopped, hovering above her. "Tell me, Elizabeth, what is it you want?"
She could not breathe. She felt as if she was standing on the pin of a needle. Precarious. Her body felt like it was on fire. Only, he knew how to extinguish her. Quench her. The decision she made here in his bed would have consequences. She knew that. For now, though, nothing was more important than what he was doing to her body. "You."
He growled, "Tell me what you want me to do to you."
"I want you inside me." Her voice sounded thready. Needy.
Darcy rolled away from her. She was disappointed until she realized he was freeing himself of his bottoms. She heard him open a drawer of his nightstand, there was a sound of a condom wrapper being opened and then he was back at her side. As he rose above her, she felt his penis, thick and hard, rub against her thigh. Her body throbbed in response. Spreading her legs as far as he could, he prepared to mount her. He was at her entrance, she felt the largeness of his head. "Elizabeth, I'm going to make you forget about any man you've ever had before me. You are going to cum for me. And, when you do, I want you to scream out my name. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes."
Without any other warning, he pressed forward roughly, thrusting himself satisfyingly deep within her. She was a good student. It did not take long before she gave him exactly what he wanted.
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