“It’s what I had.” His tone is all innocence, but his grin is wicked. He releases my jacket, hands settling on my waist. “I’m glad you stopped in earlier. I’m almost confident I had it in me to wait for you to reach out next week, but I’m glad I didn’t have to find out.”

“And if I hadn’t?” I tug on the belt loops, edging us closer.

“I would have honored what I wrote. You wouldn’t have seen me again. Though it was encouraging to hear you’d spoken to Marley. And, naturally, Charles passed along Jane’s suspicions that I wasn’t completely in the doghouse.”

“Yes, well, I’m going to be having a word with Mr. Bingley,” I grumble.

“You should. It was very sneaky of him.”

“Hmm.” I find the hem of his T-shirt, edging my fingers to the firm warmth of his abdomen. He hisses in a breath, hands going tight against me, and I no longer care about Charles and his sneaky, sneaky dealings. I’m too busy taking in Darcy’s face. Those peaked eyebrows, his dark eyes, fixed so intently on me. The focus is intimidating, as though there’s no input coming from anywhere but me.

And he does have gray in his stubble. Even in the limited light coming from the closed FedEx beside us, I can see the pale flecks in his five o’clock shadow. Swoon.

“I owe you an apology,” I say. His brows draw together but relax as I skim my fingertips along the skin above his pant waist. I trace to the solid columns of muscle on either side of his spine, then back to his hips. Some heat returns to his eyes. “Last week. When I said everything was wasted on you. I said it to hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“It was an effective word choice.” He half-smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate the apology.” He brushes his thumb across my lower lip, the touch a painful tease. “Do I have per—”

I close the gap between us before he finishes the question.

There’s no easing into this kiss, no feeling one another out. We dive right in, any self-control collapsing around the need for contact. His hands slide high on my rib cage, clutching at me. The desperation in his grip sets me spinning, libidinous thoughts shifting in time with my accelerating heartbeat. My kingdom for a room with a door, or even a curtain again—

His tongue strokes mine, and even my most negligible condition falls away. Anything. Everything. Public indecency. Bring. It. ON.

I arch toward one of his hands until he’s cupping my breast, and he groans into my mouth. He kneads me through my dress and bra, thumb tracing the low neckline, brushing over the sensitive flesh spilling over the top of my bra.