Lucky Stars (53 page)

His mouth took hers in another hot, demanding kiss as his fingers continued their beautiful torture, whisper-light touches, so close but not close enough. She’d tense, preparing for his touch, needing his invasion, certain it was coming but then they’d glide away.

When she thought she could take no more, suddenly they were there, lightly dancing across her panties in a sensuous tease.

She moaned deep in her throat and felt his groan against her tongue.

He pulled away, muttered, “So fucking wet,” and then he was gone.

“Jack?” she breathed in sudden confusion but she needn’t have worried. She felt his hands strong on her hips, pushing up her nightgown then pulling down her panties then his mouth was
right there
.

She arched her back right before she lifted her hips, seeking maximum contact with his mouth, his tongue and all the glorious things they were doing to her.

“Oh
God,
” she moaned, rocking her hips against his mouth.

She’d forgotten how good he was at this.

How could she forget?

She was close, so close, her hands in his hair, demanding more.

Then suddenly, she lifted her torso up, scooted away and Jack’s mouth disengaged.

Desperate for something else, she pulled at his shoulders and he came over her, rolling to his back, taking her with him, muttering, “Belle –”

She lifted, sitting astride him, pulling his upper body to hers and her mouth went to his.

“Teach me,” she begged against his mouth, rubbing herself against his groin.

“Belle, love, I don’t under –”

“I’ve never done it. Teach me how to do it at the same time,” she pleaded and she saw his eyes flash hot before his hand fisted in her hair, crushing her mouth to his as his other hand came between their bodies.

She felt him guide himself inside.

Her crazy, spinning-out-of-control world, all of a sudden righted the minute he slid inside.

Instantly she started moving up and down, riding him, frantic as he kissed her and his thumb pressed between her legs, its strong, determined circling sending shudders down her thighs.

“I felt so empty,” she muttered against his mouth.
“Jack, so empty.”
Her voice was husky, her words not coming from her brain but somewhere else. “It’s so good to be full of you again.”

“Belle,” he murmured, her name coming at her as deep and throaty as her words had been and his mouth captured hers again. He sat up, her head tipping down to keep contact with his
mouth,
her movements became frenzied, his thumb more determined and he tore his lips from hers and ordered, “Finish, my love.” She shook her head, holding back, wanting to wait, wanting to feel more of this, more of him, wanting to be full of him forever.

His hand in her hair tilted her face to his and he demanded, “Finish, love, right now.”

And she did as she was told, still rearing uncontrollably against his hardness, seeking, demanding, impaling him deep inside her even as her climax scored straight through to her soul.

It was so intense, so
thorough,
Belle was, many heady moments later, disappointed to see that she missed his.

Before she could form a thought, Jack fell to his back, taking her with him, pulling the covers over their bodies without losing their intimate connection.

She tucked her face in his neck, her thoughts scattered. She tried to catch even one and found the only thing she could focus on was his
warmth,
his body hard and strong under hers, their connection making her feel complete.

One of his hands travelled up and down her back as the other slid through her hair and after awhile, he murmured, “I missed you, poppet.”

She felt the tears well and without her faculties engaging, she couldn’t stop them from sliding from her eyes.

“Belle?”

“You don’t think I’m wanton?” she blurted, her
embarrassed
mind swiftly filled with recent memories of her begging, her desperation, her frantic movements.

She felt his body shake under hers and her head lifted so she could look at him.

He was laughing.

“What’s funny now?” she wailed and both his hands came to her face, his fingers gliding into her hair but his thumbs moved along the tears on her cheeks.

He didn’t answer her. Instead, still chuckling, he asked, “Why on earth are you crying?”

Her eyes moved to his ear which, she found, now with lots of practice, was the safest place to look,
especially
if he was naked.

She considered his question.

Then she answered his ear with, “I don’t…” her voice hitched and she finished on a stammer, “don’t know.”

His hands on her face tensed and he ordered gently, “Look at me.”

She licked her lips and her eyes went to his.

His eyes were warm, they were tender,
they
were amused and…

She stared at him, her heart leaping.

She hadn’t seen it in weeks but she saw it then, right in his eyes.

He looked happy.

Her tears instantly stopped and, out of the blue, she asked, “Jack, are you happy?”

The warmth in his eyes intensified mere moments before he burst out laughing and his arms wrapped around her so tight she was forced to collapse against him and tuck her face into his neck again.

“What’s funny now?” she demanded over his laughter.

His voice was still vibrating with amusement when he answered, “You’re here, I’m here, you’re in my arms and I’m still inside you. I just watched you come so hard I thought for a second you were going to pass out and, I have to admit, love, my orgasm was nearly as fucking good as yours and you’re asking me if I’m
happy?
”

There was a lot there but Belle’s mind immediately honed in on the part she thought she needed to get straight.

“I didn’t, um,” she hesitated then skipped over the embarrassing bit, deciding he’d figure it out, “so hard that I nearly passed out.”

“Poppet, your eyes rolled back in your head and I could swear for a moment you were in a trance,” he replied.

She pulled against his arms so she could glare down at him.

Seriously!

How smug could he be?

“Hardly,” she snapped.

He grinned.

It was then she realised he was teasing.

“Stop teasing me, Jack,” she demanded.

“Stop being so easy to tease, Belle,” he returned, still grinning.

She slapped his arm and demanded, “Stop it!”

Jack rolled her to her back, their bodies disconnected but he tangled his legs with hers and let a goodly amount of his warm weight rest on her which was
almost
as nice as feeling him inside so she didn’t protest.

He was still smiling when he looked down at her. “All right Belle. No more teasing.” He touched his lips to hers and when he pulled away, his eyes were still tender and amused but his words were serious. She knew this because they were low and
rumbly
. “To answer your question, yes, Belle, for the first time in what feels like a long time, I’m happy.”

She felt her belly melt and so did her body.

Because she believed him.

And she knew it was her that was making him happy.

Not the thought of her having his baby. Not temporary insanity. Not the heretofore unknown prospect that they were living in an alternate universe.

All of these (and then some) were possibilities her mind came up with in the last three and a half weeks as to why he didn’t, without delay, leave her when he found out she’d lost their baby.

No, she made him happy in the real, the here, the now.

She, Meek and Mild Belle Abbot was making him, criminally handsome James Bennett, happy.

She let that thought settle in her heart, her soul and, finally, her mind and surprisingly even her mind let that thought be.

His hand sifted into her hair at the side of her head and his eyes stayed tender but lost their humour when he asked, “Now, poppet, what I’d like to know is, are you?”

She sensed this question meant a great deal to him so she answered honestly.

“No.” When she watched his jaw get hard she lifted her hand, rested it against that hard, handsome, morning
stubbled
jaw and continued on a whisper, “But, with all your help, I’m getting there.”

His forehead dropped to hers and he murmured with feeling, “Thank God.”

Then afraid but feeling ready, Belle admitted softly, “I’m sorry I went away. I missed you too, Jack.”

She felt the air turn velvet all around them as his face went soft.

Then she felt nothing at all but his lips on hers and his arms crushing her tight.

* * * * *

Belle and Jack walked hand in hand into the dining room.

They were late for breakfast.

Everyone was there, including, surprisingly, Olive.

“Hi Olive,” Belle smiled at the woman as Olive’s gaze came to her.

“Belle, you look beautiful, as ever,” Olive
replied,
her eyes sharp and Belle had the weird impression Olive not only could read her thoughts but was doing so.

Then Olive looked to Jack and she gave him the same assessing stare.

Jack pulled out Belle’s chair, she sat and he helped her scoot it to the table before his hand cupped her jaw, his thumb slid along her cheekbone and she saw that tender look in his eyes as the sweet feel of velvet hit the air.

His hand dropped, he moved around her and sat at the head of the table.

Belle, temporarily in Jack and Belle Land where no one else existed, came back into the room and glanced at her audience.

Joy, Yasmin, Gram and Mom were engaged in sipping coffee, slathering toast with butter and forking eggs into their mouths. They were veterans of Jack’s loving demonstrations and didn’t notice a thing.

Olive was glancing between the two of them and seemed to find her readings of Jack and Belle, post-accident, heartbreaking loss of unborn child were acceptable
but
she was keeping an eye out. And yes, Belle barely knew Olive but she could still read that with a look.

Cassandra was looking amused but this look was directed at Angus.

Then she said (bizarrely), “
So
Joshua.”

“Lass,
no’
even,
” Angus (bizarrely) flashed back.

Belle’s Dad was staring at Jack.

Then he said, “
Dude,
” as if this one word spoke volumes.

Jack’s eyes went to Belle’s father and he asked, “Jensen, to which ‘dude’ at this table are you referring?”

“You,” Dad replied.

“And?”
Jack prompted.

“Seriously,” Dad answered on a grin though that wasn’t really an answer, it was clear her father thought it was.

Jack’s brows went up then his gaze came to Belle as if she could interpret.

“Don’t ask me,” Belle murmured and Jack looked back at her father.

“Jensen, would you care to elaborate?”

But her father apparently did not care to elaborate because he looked at Mom and remarked, “Is it me or do English dudes speak funny?”

“‘Elaborate’ is hardly a funny word, Jenny,” Lila spoke up.

“Do
you
say ‘elaborate’?” Dad asked Gram but before Gram could respond, Dad went on, “
I
don’t say ‘elaborate’. Jesus, I don’t know anyone who says ‘elaborate’. I don’t even know what ‘elaborate’ means.”

“I say elaborate,” Olive put in.

“You don’t count, you’re English,” Dad retorted.

“Jack means explain, Dad,” Belle decided, unusually unwisely, to wade in.

“Well, why doesn’t he just say ‘explain’?” Dad demanded to know.

“Jack’s sitting right there, Jenny, don’t talk about him like he isn’t even here,” Mom scolded. “It’s rude.”

At her mother’s words and the look on her father’s face when he heard them, with lots of experience with this type of situation, Belle’s stomach plummeted and she muttered, “Oh dear.”

At the same time Gram mumbled, “Uh-oh.”

And Jensen Abbot didn’t contradict Gram and Belle’s years of experience.

Therefore, as if he didn’t have an audience, most of whom he’d known less than twenty-four hours. And as if he wasn’t the guest at the rather opulent dining room table in an imposing castle owned by his daughter’s criminally handsome, unbelievably rich, unmistakably famous boyfriend who he
also
had known for just a hint more than twenty-four hours, Jensen’s voice rose.

“Woman, tell me you didn’t just call me rude.”

Mom as well (and as usual), instantly forgot her audience when she returned, “Jenny, I did because you
were
.”

“Rachel –” Gram tried to intervene but Dad put his hand up, palm toward Gram, the whole time he did this his head was twisted to Mom.