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.”