Lucky Stars (9 page)

She’d never had one induced by a partner.

Not a single one.

And in one night, Jack had given her
three
.

Belle read romance novels but she always thought all that rigmarole about passionate, mind-boggling sex which could sweep you away on a fiery hot wave was all fiction made up by extremely imaginative women.

But it wasn’t.

It was
real
.

And it was
fantastic
.

And she wanted more of it,
lots
more (if it was with Jack that was).

Furthermore, he said she could trust him.

And she believed him.

There was no way
not
to believe him, the way he made his promise. His voice was all low and
rumbly
, his arm was tight around her,
his
eyes were looking straight into hers.

After Calvin, Belle knew better than to trust anyone ever again, or at least not a man.

But she couldn’t help it, she trusted Jack.

It was a risk. An uncalculated, spur of the moment, outrageous risk but for the first time in her life Belle wasn’t the least bit frightened.

Because somewhere during their middle of the night, moonlit talk she realised she was safe with him. She could be herself with him and he actually
liked
it.

Criminally Handsome James Bennett liked her, Belle “Meek and Mild” Abbot.

He liked her a lot.

She could tell. It was hard to miss with all of the sex and cuddling and moonlit conversations full of promises.

Lastly, he called her “poppet” and it wasn’t like Miles calling her “gorgeous”.

Belle understood why she wasn’t fond of endearments uttered early in a relationship.

Because they were empty and meaningless.

When Jack called her “poppet”, it was different. It wasn’t empty nor was it meaningless.

It was warm and full of the possibility of something rich and rewarding.

She finally knew why she had that strange, thrilling feeling of expectation before she joined the party last night.

She had her very first premonition. Her mother, who had them all the time (practically
hourly)
would be in fits of delight when Belle told her.

She’d had the premonition that she’d meet Jack and it would be as wonderful as it was.

On that thought, she heard the jangle of dog tags and saw Baron sit up from his place on the floor at her side of the bed. His head swung toward Belle and he rested it on the mattress, his doggie eyes blinking at her.

Belle stretched out a hand to stroke his soft head and whispered to the dog, “Morning handsome.”

She heard Baron’s tail thump on the floor as the arm around her waist moved, curling up to become what she knew was a strong, long-fingered hand curving around her breast.

Belle felt a tingle slide up her spine as Jack’s body pressed forward.

His chin moved the hair at the back of her neck and then he said in a just waking up growl, “I take it you aren’t talking to me.”

Belle smiled at Baron and shook her head, saying, “No.”

Jack kissed the back of her neck then its side. His body and hand disappeared but only to press her to her back. He got up on an elbow and loomed over her.

She looked at him in the daylight.

He looked slightly sleepy but no less handsome.

In fact, he looked better than ever.

Really, it should be against the law (but she wasn’t going to turn him in, no way).

She smiled again, Jack’s eyes moved to her mouth and then his hand came up to frame the side of her face.

“Sleep well, poppet?” he murmured.

Belle nodded and his gaze moved from her mouth to her eyes.

“Good,” he muttered, his head descended, his mouth touched hers in a sweet, effective, barely there, morning kiss. When he lifted it again, his gaze turned toward Baron and he remarked, “You’ve stolen my dog.”

Belle let out a surprised giggle and asked, “What?”

Jack’s eyes came back to hers and she saw they were smiling even though his mouth was not.

It registered somewhere in the depths of her soul that this was the most beautiful sight she ever beheld about a nanosecond before he repeated, “You’ve stolen my dog. He always sleeps on the floor on the other side.
My
side.
He never sleeps on this side.”

Belle’s head tilted enquiringly on the pillow. “You have a side?”

Jack studied her face a moment before asking, “You don’t?”

She shook her head. “No, I sleep in the middle.”

He kept watching her before his face went soft and he said quietly, “That’s good news, poppet.”

“Why?” Belle asked, confused at his statement.

His head descended again, this time to bury his face in her neck where he muttered, “No reason.” Then he went on to say, “Feel free to sleep in the middle with me.”

Belle let out another giggle and she slid her arms around his back, curling toward him as she informed him unnecessarily, “I did, last night. You did too. We’re in the middle now.”

“Mm,” he replied, mouth against her neck and Belle felt a shiver slide through her right before she felt his tongue touch her neck which made the shiver turn into a full blown, luscious tremble.

“Jack,” she called before things got out-of-hand which, if their experiences of last night were anything to go by (both times before their talk
and
the time after), they could do.

And fast.

“Hmm?”
Jack mumbled as he slid his mouth to her ear.

“I have to go to my room,” Belle told him and instantly his head came up.

“What?” he asked.

“I have to go to my room,” she repeated.

His brows drew together and he queried gently, “Do you want to tell me why?”

She
slid
her hands up the hard muscle of his back and answered, “I need to go and get my toothbrush.”

His brows
unknitted
, his face relaxed and he kissed her nose then for some unknown reason he declared, “I’ve got an electric toothbrush.”

Then his face disappeared in her neck again.

Belle stared at the canopy of the four-poster and tried not to think about how nice his lips felt on her neck.

Jack’s room was larger than hers and this was saying something since hers was enormous. His was decorated in rich browns, dark blues and mustardy
golds
. The canopy, curtains and coverlet were a subtle, swirling, paisley mixture of the three.

It was lush.

“Um, I’m glad,” Belle mumbled and went on uncertainly as his mouth worked at the sensitive skin at her neck. “My dentist tells me every time I visit him to get one. They’re supposed to be the thing. It’s good you take care of your teeth. That’s important.”

His head came up and he studied her again, his green eyes shining and his mouth twitching like he was trying to control laughter.

She had no idea what was funny except maybe him telling her he had an electric toothbrush. But
he
wouldn’t think that was funny as, apparently, he thought that was the most natural thing in the world to share while having a morning cuddle.

When he succeeded in this task, he said, “Belle, what I meant was, I have an electric toothbrush with separate heads. You can have an unused one.”

“Oh,” Belle breathed, feeling like a complete idiot and his eyes watched her mouth form that one syllable like it was mesmerising.

Then he muttered, “God, you’re sweet.”

She completely forgot she was an idiot, a trill shot up her spine straight into her scalp, her belly melted and Belle’s head tilted again when she asked, “I am?”

His eyes came back to hers. “Yes, poppet,” he replied softly. “You are.” His voice dropped even lower when he finished, “Unbelievably sweet.”

For a second, she couldn’t speak mainly because she couldn’t breathe.

Then she didn’t know what to say but she felt she should say something. He’d just given her a lovely compliment. The best she’d ever had (by a mile). It would be rude to let it pass without comment.

So she whispered, “Thank you.”

For some reason her response made him roar with laughter. His body collapsed on hers but she took his weight for only a moment before his arms curled around her. He rolled to his back taking her with him so she was on top.

She lifted up with her forearms on his broad chest. He held her closely and she watched as he got control of his hilarity.

He was, if it could be believed, even more handsome when he was laughing.

“I still need to go to my room,” she told him and his hand came up to pull her hair away from her the side of her face to hold it at her back.

“Why?” he asked, still smiling.

“I need a change of clothes,” she told him.

He shook his head. “No you don’t.”

Belle blinked. “What am I supposed to wear?”

His fingers slid through her hair at her back, came up then plunged in for another pass (and she distractedly registered she liked his hands sifting through her hair, quite a lot) as he answered, “If you need clothes, I’ll get you another shirt.”

Belle didn’t mind wearing his shirts. In fact, she liked it.

Still, for some reason only known to someplace deep in the back of her anxious mind, she knew she needed her stuff. She didn’t know why but she felt somehow exposed without it. Not to Jack but to everyone else in the castle.

She didn’t want to emerge from Jack’s room sometime in the afternoon with the remnants of her makeup from the night before on her face and either Jack’s shirt or her dress on her body.

The very idea was the definition of mortifying.

Therefore she kept trying to find a way to get to her room. “I need underwear.”

His smile turned wicked as his eyes caught hers. “No you don’t.”

Her belly did a flip before it dipped at his words (and his smile) but she kept trying. “I need something to pull my hair back.”

He moved a thick tress over her shoulder and twisted it around his fingers against her chest. “I like your hair down.”

“Jack!” she exclaimed in frustration.

“Belle.”
He grinned, totally disregarding her frustration and seemingly having the time of his life.

Belle tried yet again. “I need my cleanser, moisturiser. I need my
stuff
.”

The amusement in his gaze gentled, he lifted his head and touched his mouth to hers again. “All right, poppet. I’ll call Elaine and get her to move your things in here.”

Belle’s body went solid and almost at the same instant she felt Jack brace under her but she didn’t pay any attention even as his hand left her hair so his arm could wrap tightly around her back.

“You can’t call Elaine,” Belle declared even though she had no idea who Elaine was. She didn’t want anyone to know she was moving into Jack’s room except her and Jack.

“Why not?”
Jack asked.

“Because she, whoever she is, will know I’m with you.”

“And?”
Belle felt her eyes grow wide at that question, thinking the “and” was obvious but Jack kept talking. “Belle, people are going to know, very soon.”

“They’re going to think –” Belle started but Jack cut her off with a squeeze of his arms.

“I don’t give a fuck what they think.”

“Well, I do,” Belle told him.

“You shouldn’t.”

He was right. She shouldn’t.

Perhaps there was still some Old Belle hanging around.

“I know,” she admitted softly. “I still do.”

He studied her face and then he sighed.

Belle instinctively felt she’d forged an advantage so she took it.

“Can we please have a little time?” she asked quietly. “Just for, you know,
ourselves
?”

She watched his face grow soft before he replied, “Of course,” and Belle relaxed on top of him for half a second before he spoke again. “I’ll go get your things.”

She went solid in horror before declaring, “You can’t get my stuff.”

His mouth did that twitching thing again before he asked, “Why not?”

She had no ready answer. She just didn’t like the idea of Jack gathering her stuff, of which there was a lot. She was very
girlie
. There were tons of bottles and tubs and
things
.

He might think she was high maintenance.

She didn’t want him to think she was high maintenance (even though she was).

And worse, what if he missed something?

“You just can’t,” she returned.

This, bizarrely, made him start chuckling. She felt the sound in her belly and the feeling had nothing to do with his body shaking with laughter beneath hers.