Her long hair was spread across his forearms and he gathered it in a hand to twist it softly in his fist before he replied, “There was nothing wrong about what we did.”
He felt her shake her head against his chest but even as she disagreed with him, her arms grew tighter.
“Jack –” she started to protest.
“Belle,” he cut her off. “What I saw of you tonight with Miles was wrong. Very wrong. What we have is not.”
“Jack –” she began again but he gave her hair a gentle tug, she stopped speaking and tilted her head back to look at him as he dipped his chin down.
When he caught her eyes, he spoke. “If you let me in, poppet, even a little bit, I’ll prove it to you. I promise you, I’ll make you understand. This, whatever it is, and we both feel it, is right.”
He felt her grow still and watched her tongue wet her lips before she said words in an awful voice that left no doubt how much it cost her to say them or, indeed, the terrible feeling behind them. “I’ve done that before, with a man, let him in. It wasn’t smart.”
It was Jack’s turn to grow still.
He wanted to know what she meant but understood intuitively that conversation was also not for the moonlight but for the daylight when she was eating breakfast in his bed after he’d made her come and after she’d done the same to him.
“I’m not that man,” Jack returned firmly.
She started to pull away but his arm around her grew tight and she stopped.
“Jack, you have to listen to me,” she demanded, a hint of desperation in her voice.
“No.” He slid her back up his chest so they were face-to-face and went on, his voice turning fierce. “Tonight is ours. Tomorrow morning, I’ll explain how it is and, if you’ll share it with me, you’ll explain. Then I’ll take care of everything.” She shook her head and his fingers holding her hair wrapped around the back of her head to stop her movement. “Belle, you can trust me.” He dropped his forehead to hers and repeated his oath in a forceful murmur. “I promise you, you can trust me.”
He watched close up as her eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Then they opened and focussed on him.
Then she whispered in an aching voice that registered painfully somewhere deep in his gut, “You promise?”
That was when he thought her part of the conversation might not be best left until the morning.
“Belle, perhaps you should tell me –”
It was Belle’s turn to interrupt Jack.
“You have to promise,” she demanded.
Jack’s hand left her hair and both his arms wrapped around her.
“I promise,” he muttered and started to ask. “Now –”
But she shook her head. “In the morning.”
“Belle –” Jack began but she cut him off.
“In the morning.” she repeated.
Jack’s voice dipped lower in warning. “Belle –”
She completely ignored his warning.
Before he could say more, she pulled slightly away and said, “Let’s go to bed.”
Jack didn’t move.
Belle put her hands to his chest, pushed up, broke through his arms and scooted from between his legs. She came to her feet beside him next to Baron and, one hand scratching behind Baron’s ears, she bent and grabbed Jack’s hand with the other.
“Come to bed,” she whispered.
For a brief moment, Jack Bennett sat in the window of his room looking at his woman in his shirt standing next to his dog.
After that moment was over, he didn’t need to be asked a third time to go to bed.
Chapter Four
Sibling Rivalry
Belle
Belle woke tucked in the curve of Jack’s warm, hard body, his heavy arm resting on her waist.
The sunlight was shining in her face.
The events of the night before hit her in a happy rush. Thinking about them, she snuggled into Jack and felt his arm tighten in his sleep.
This made her smile.
She shouldn’t be smiling. She should be embarrassed at how she’d behaved, what she’d done.
Belle “Meek and Mild” Abbot would be embarrassed.
No, Belle “Meek and Mild” Abbot wouldn’t be embarrassed, she’d be mortified.
But this Belle, whoever she was, wasn’t.
She wasn’t because Jack Bennett didn’t take her back to the party.
In the dark, in his study, he saw her pet his dog and look out his window.
Then he spent the next hour showing her things she’d want to see not things he wanted her to see.
And he knew straight away she wasn’t a people person and didn’t judge her. Nor did he force her to stand at his side while he introduced her to person after person necessitating that she make small talk, her most hated thing in the world (outside of the media and their microphones and cameras, she hated them more than small talk, loads more).
Instead, he protected her, took her away from the crush to someplace safe. Someplace she liked to be.
And he asked her questions and listened to her answers like not only was he interested in her responses but as if he cared.
And he’d given her three orgasms.
Three unbelievable orgasms.
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.