Elizabeth Bennett has never appreciated any of these traits in a man. So when Mr. Darcy, billionaire British playboy and GQ's Bachelor of the Year, meets her at a function, she's surprised at how attracted she is to him.

That is until he puts his foot in his big, arrogant mouth.

The slap that she gave him got her thrown out of the biggest fundraiser of the year, but the mark she left on Mr. Darcy won't leave his mind.

The second time that they meet "on accident", he turns up the arrogance even more.

The third time, he tries flowers.

By the fourth time, he's wearing a cup to protect himself.

Mr. Darcy is the last man in the world that Elizabeth could ever be with. However, love makes fools of us all, and the one man that she can't stand is the one man she can't resist.

Can Mr. Darcy's kiss win over the heart of Elizabeth Bennett?

Join New York Times bestselling author Krista Lakes in this modern retelling of Jane Austen's beloved "Pride and Prejudice".

* * *

I kept dancing across the dance floor, moving my hips and having fun. I could see Lydia out of the corner of my eye shaking her booty and having a great time. For once, I wasn't worried about her getting kicked out. She seemed to be behaving herself.

A cute man came up and started dancing with me. He was mid-height with blonde hair and a couple of tattoos peeking out from under his shirtsleeves. I offered my hand, and he spun me into him, putting his hands on my hips and moving with me to the music.

At first, the dance was fun. Cute-guy kept his hands on my hips, pulling me into his body and moving to the music. It was worlds away better than dancing with Collins, but then he started going too far. He grabbed my ass instead of my hips, and he didn't let me go as he thrust his pelvis into me.

I stepped away, no longer enjoying what was going on. I wanted to dance, not to be groped.

“Come on, baby,” he said over the music, flashing me what I assumed was his best smile. He was no longer Cute-guy. He was now Cute-but-awful guy. “It's just for fun.”

“I think I'm done,” I said, turning to leave, but he grabbed my hand.

“Just another dance, baby,” he cooed. “I'll behave. Until you don't want me to.”

I tried to wrench my arm from his grasp, but he was much bigger and stronger than me. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I play nice until he let me go and then run? Should I kick him in the balls? Scream bloody murder?

“She said she's done,” a strong voice said behind me. I turned to find Mr. Darcy out on the dance floor. For the first time since meeting him, I was glad to see him.

“Wait your turn,” Cute-but-awful guy told him. He still had my wrist in his hand.

“No,” Mr. Darcy said, putting his hand on my shoulder. He looked dangerous. “Either you leave now, or they help you out.”

He nodded to the three muscle-bound bouncers in black watching them. Cute-but-awful guy dropped my wrist.

“You need to chill, man,” Cute-but-awful guy said. He blew me a kiss and walked away.

I stood there on the dance floor breathing hard even though I wasn't moving. Mr. Darcy had rescued me. I knew I could have done it myself, but his method was way more effective and didn't involve bodily harm.

“Thank you,” I told him over the music.

He shrugged like it was nothing. “May I have the next dance?”

He held out his hand, waiting for me to take it.

I hesitated. Not because I thought he would end up like Cute-but-awful guy, or because I didn't want to. I really wanted to dance with Mr. Darcy. I wanted to dance and then do so much more than dancing. And that's what scared me.

“You may,” I replied.

* * *

“Because I want to know why,” I replied, taking a step toward him. I wanted to get under his skin and annoy him as much as he annoyed me. I wanted him to think of me the way I did him: often and without meaning to.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He was close to me now. I didn’t remember taking quite this many steps into him, but I was close enough now to smell his cologne. I could see the blues and grays of his eyes and the small spot he missed shaving near his earlobe.

How did he infuriate me so easily? Why did being near him cause my heart to go crazy and my ability to think disappear? I glared up at him, riled and looking for a fight. I wanted to get a reaction out of him. I wanted him to react to me.

I wanted to knock him down and kiss him, and I wasn’t sure it was in that order. The space at the arch of my legs ached for something only he could give me. I hated him, yet my body wanted his touch. Lust surged through me in hot waves.

I hated that I wanted him, but that only made me want him more.

How did he get under my skin and turn me on?

Without thinking, without my brain’s permission, my body leaned forward and kissed him.

And oh, God, did it feel good.

Every part of my body sang with need and kissing him made it better and worse at the same time. He threaded his hand behind my head and into my hair, kissing me back.

And the man could kiss. His lips were soft, yet demanding. He tasted better than he had in any of my dreams. Sweet, yet rich with hints of champagne.

Before I knew what I was doing, I wrapped my arms around his neck, not letting him go. I needed his kisses, his touch, and so much more. I needed him more than I needed to breathe. I hated him and needed him in equal parts.

What in the world had he done to me? I went from hating him to wanting to screw him in the space of a single kiss.

“We should go someplace less public.” He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper the words, and even then that was too long.

I nodded, hating that he pulled away from me. My body ached to feel him against me, and even though I knew I would get more, I hated that I didn’t have him that instant.

He grabbed my hand. With my lips still tingling from Mr. Darcy’s kiss, he pulled me away from the crowd.