Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(160)

“You don’t,” Jack agreed tersely.

“Belle wanted us to go gentle with the children,” Lachlan reminded him of something else he hadn’t forgotten.

“Then go gentle as you ask him all I’ve told you to ask him.”

“Jack –”

“He’ll tell you,” Jack interrupted. “He’ll want to help Belle. Be kind. Have a mind. But do it.”

There was another pause before Lachlan agreed, “Right, mate. I’ll get Lorna and we’ll do it tonight.”

“Excellent. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right.”

Jack disconnected again, pulled in a deep breath and on his second one, decided there was nothing more he could do.

This did not make him feel better.

Then he walked through the cottage, disrobed in Belle’s bedroom and slid into bed beside her.

She wrapped herself around him immediately.

This made him feel better.

“Is Miles all right?” she whispered and at the sound of her voice he knew she’d never been asleep but, as was her way, remained in bed to give him some time.

“He’s fine.”

“Did everything go okay?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” he lied.

“Jack, you got here ten minutes ago and came to bed just now. Are you sure everything is all right?”

“Everything’s fine, Belle. I’m fine. Miles is fine. Everything is fine.” He pulled her closer. “Now, I’m exhausted and I need to sleep.”

Although it was wrapped warm around him, she held her body stiffly for long moments before she asked softly, “You wouldn’t lie to me?”

In the more than three weeks since Jack broke through her grief, she’d been happy. There had been dramas. He’d seen a shadow pass over her eyes on occasion and he knew her thoughts were dark. Twice, he’d seen her run her hand over her belly, her face set in wistful nostalgia. And it was not pleasant nostalgia, it was melancholic. He gave her these times, times she needed to process the grief for their lost child. Times, unfortunately, she would likely always have if, eventually, less frequently.

But mostly, she’d been content, her giggles coming more often, her smiles regular.

And there was nothing Jack wouldn’t do to make certain Belle remained happy.

Including lie.

“No, my love, I wouldn’t lie to you,” he whispered, gathered her closer in his arms and urged, “Now, sleep.”

It took her another moment before her soft body yielded against his and she whispered, “Okay, honey.”

She trusted him and he hoped to Christ nothing would happen to make her realise that this once, just this once, for her happiness, he didn’t deserve it.

“Goodnight, poppet,” he murmured.

“’Night, Jack.”

Jack stared at the ceiling as he listened to Belle’s breathing so he heard when it deepened and evened and he felt it when her body melted in sleep into his.

And he kept staring at the ceiling for long hours after that.

So long, he was awake when she woke.

Exhausted, beyond concerned and feeling a feeling he didn’t like that was worse than both, powerless, he still turned to her when he felt the sleep leave her. Then he put his hands and mouth on her and as he did, he took off her nightgown and panties.

But without any sleep, exhausted, when she was ready, he made her do all the work. He shifted her over him, guided himself inside and sat up. Holding her moving body in his arms, his head tipped back, his hand cupping hers tipping it down so her mouth was on his as she rode him until she gave it to herself and kept riding him until she gave it to him.

And later, pretending all was well, he had breakfast in her small kitchen with her eccentric mother and father then he packed his Belle and his dogs in his car and he took them home.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Last One Down

Lachlan

Lach had just rammed deep into her sweet, hot, very wet snatch when the thought assaulted him.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered.

“Don’t stop,” the woman on her knees before him, her face in the bed, begged.

“Bad f**king timing,” he muttered, pulled out and put his hands to her h*ps as he listened to her gasp in protest, the sound driving straight through his dick.

He whipped her to her back, spread her legs then jerked them up with his hands behind her knees and he positioned.

He drove inside.

Moving her calves to round him, he fell forward. He planted one hand in the bed at her side, arm straight, the other hand he moved between her legs.

“Hurry,” he grunted as he thrust fast and deep and his thumb rolled.

“Oh God,” she moaned.

Lach’s eyes moved over her. Her masses of hair were spread across the bed, her creamy skin was stark against the dark sheets and her beautiful face was extraordinary in its excitement.

Christ.

His need quickened exponentially and not just because he had things to do.

“Hurry,” he ground out, grinding deep and circling tight and hard with his thumb.

Her neck arched back, her nails dragged down his chest and she repeated, “Oh God.”

Finally. There it f**king was.

Lach moved his hand from between her legs, dropped to his forearm, let go of his control and kept thrusting deep, fast and hard until he found it.