It had been utterly magnificent.
He’d never experienced anything like it.
Nothing even came close.
After they’d finished, she kept her tight hold on him, her face pressed to his neck, the fingers of one of her hands in his hair.
And, holding Belle against the wall, Jack memorised every inch of her that he could feel, her breath on his neck, legs around his hips, fingers in his hair and the sweet, wet tightness between her legs.
She moved her head, put her mouth to his ear and whispered in her soft, honeyed voice, “Jack.”
He knew what she was thinking.
Therefore he turned his own head and kissed her.
Jack didn’t want her thinking and questioning.
He wanted her focussed solely on him.
He pulled out of her gently, catching her gasp in his mouth as he did so and carried her to the side of the bed, kissing her the entire way. There he set her on her feet, took off their clothes and fell with her on the bed.
The second time, he savoured her and her delectable body, using his mouth and hands, patiently coaxing her out of her timidity, urging her to do the same to him.
She did, shyly at first, becoming bolder and finally, with a mixture of the two, she achieved wildly successful results.
The second time ended like the first. Rough, fierce and completely uncontrolled.
Although his orgasm was not as staggering as the first, he did have the delightful opportunity to watch hers from start to finish.
Without a word and definitely not allowing Belle to utter one, he’d shifted their bodies under the covers, pulled her in his arms and held her tight with one arm while stroking her spine with the tips of his fingers.
Shortly after, he felt her weight settle into him and he knew she was asleep.
Shortly after that, he allowed himself to sleep as well.
Now, watching her study the sea, Jack considered his actions.
He had no idea why he behaved the way he behaved. He’d never done anything of the like in his life.
He also had no idea why Belle brought this out in him.
Although it likely had something to do with the fact that she was the first woman he’d encountered who made it clear she’d rather be anywhere but with him.
It also likely had something to do with Baron’s acceptance of her. Jack’s dog was usually wary and protective, especially when Jack was close. Baron didn’t give his trust or affection easily. One sniff at her hand and her soft coo was all it took for Belle to win Jack’s dog which, to Jack, spoke volumes.
Further, it likely had something to do with watching her open, unguarded delight when she was with the animals.
And probably it had something to do with the sound of her sweet, soft laughter.
It also could have to do with her story about her grandmother and the lemon drops.
Undoubtedly, it had to do with the depth in her eyes that said there was something there. Something he wanted, even so far as needed but he wasn’t allowed to see. Something he couldn’t have nor could he take. Something he’d have to earn.
Lastly, it most assuredly had something to do with that lock of thick, shining hair that fell against her neck, adorably revealing her imperfection.
Jack, however, was not the kind of man who spent a great deal of time considering his actions.
So he didn’t.
She simply was who she was, all of who she was.
And Jack liked it, all of it.
And he wanted it.
So he took it.
But also, he was going to keep it because now it was his.
On that thought, he threw the bedclothes aside. He went to his dresser, pulled out a pair of pyjama bottoms and tugged them on. Baron trotted to him while he did this and Jack lifted his head to see Belle was watching him, head twisted to look over her shoulder, her arms wrapped around her calves.
Jack walked across the room to join her.
As he walked, she moved jerkily as if she’d been torn from a trance or had a layer of ice wrapped around her which had been shattered.
She released her legs and stood, her head tilting back, her hand coming up as if to ward him off and she whispered, “Jack –”
His chest came up against her hand, his hands went to her waist and he turned her so her back was to his front, his movements cutting off whatever she intended to say. He moved and sat in the window seat, taking her with him, lifting his legs bent at the knees and positioning her between them. He rested his back against the wall, Belle’s back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, one about her stomach, the other about her chest.
Instinctively Jack felt containment was key. Given the opportunity, Belle would retreat either physically or emotionally and after what they’d just shared, he wasn’t going to allow that.
Even so, she held her body stiffly in his arms.
“Jack –” she began again.
“Belle,” he interrupted her with a squeeze, his voice low and quiet. “Not tonight. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
Although he would not have thought it was possible, he felt her body grow even stiffer.
Baron settled in beside them, resting his head on the window seat by Jack’s hip as Belle turned in his arms so she was facing him.
At the same time she tried to pull away.
Jack’s arms tensed and she was forced to put her hands on his chest to push back but he kept her close, not allowing escape.
She gave up pushing and her eyes lifted to look in his.
He could see her face in the moonlight but he couldn’t read her eyes and he wished he’d thought to turn on a light.
She hesitated before speaking and with embarrassment dripping from her voice, she whispered. “I’ve never done anything like that before in my life.”
“I know,” he replied softly and understood he’d scored a point when her stiff body relaxed somewhat in his arms.
“I don’t want you to think –” she started, he gave her a gentle shake and his head bent so his face was closer to hers.
“Poppet, get that out of your head. I don’t think anything except what we shared earlier was unbelievably, f**king magnificent.”
Even in the dark, he could see her lips part in surprise and her eyes widened in wonder seconds before she found something else to be embarrassed about. “Your Mum –”
There was no way Jack was going to explain the intricate history of competition between the Bennett brothers, Miles’s taking sibling rivalry to a compulsive extreme and Joy’s total understanding of it (and incessant worry about it) when Belle was in his shirt, in his arms, in his room, in the moonlight.
He’d do it tomorrow morning when she was eating breakfast in his bed after he’d made love to her again.