Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(47)

“Belle,” Jack called and she knew the e-mail name exchange idea was out.

Her eyes rose from their mindless study of his collarbone to his face and she blurted, “Lucas for a boy, Olivia for a girl.” Then worried he wouldn’t like those names so she went on, “I also like Harry.” When he showed no response, just watched her face silently, she kept going, “And Noah.” He again didn’t speak so she carried on, “And Nathan.”

“Nathan.” he murmured and the way he said that name, the way it sounded with his deep voice wrapped around it, she knew she’d battle to the death to give her child that name.

“Nathan,” she whispered and watched his eyes drop to her mouth.

Then she watched his face grow soft and gentle, a look she hadn’t seen in four months.

There was something profound happening. The kind of profound something that happened when a mother and father decided what to name their child.

She felt it slide warmly through her, taking over, taking control and before she knew it (or could stop herself), her hand moved to cover his on her belly.

His eyes lifted to hers and her hand kept going, sliding up his forearm.

“Belle,” he muttered and her hand glided up his bicep.

“Jack,” she whispered and, as she was studying his mouth, she missed the flash in his eyes and her fingers curled around his shoulder.

Still controlled by the moment and not her own neurotic mind, she lifted up and put her mouth on his.

Then she kissed him.

Kissed him.

She didn’t know what she was doing. She wasn’t herself and she had no idea what this New Belle intended to get from her behaviour.

But Jack knew exactly what he wanted and the minute her lips touched his, he took it.

His torso pressed hers into the bed, his arm wrapped around her waist and he rolled to his back, taking her with him, his mouth locked on hers, his tongue sliding inside.

His hands drove into the hair on either side of her head and held her to him as she tilted her head, her tongue dancing wildly with his.

This felt so good, her belly flipped then melted and her body moulded to his. Her arm wrapped around him and she moved to her side, urging him to come with her (and he did) so her hands could roam the skin and muscle of his back.

He felt good.

Actually, he felt great.

As she touched him, the kiss, mildly controlled, went out-of-control.

She had invited it and when it came she welcomed it and gave back as much as she got, loving every second.

Only when Jack’s hand yanked up her nightgown and slid into her panties at her behind did sanity return in an ice-cold, what on earth are you doing rush.

She pulled from his arms, scrambled from the bed and stood at its side, staring at Jack who’d come up on a forearm but his body had gone still.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “So, so sorry. I’m sorry.” He just stared at her, she could see his chest rising and falling, his defined stomach muscles contracting with his deep breathing and she kept talking, “Hormones. It’s hormones. I’m so sorry.”

She stood there feeling like an idiot and her gaze went from his passion-filled eyes to his chest which was something she liked. So it skittered to his nose which was something else she liked. So it went to his shoulder which was safe when he was wearing clothes, when he wasn’t it was all sinewy and luscious so she settled on his ear.

“Belle –” he started but she blathered on.

“Okay, so, this is obviously going to be weird, considering our brief history. So, for this to work, um… me being here, living with you, maybe we should have rules.”

“Belle –” he repeated and she still didn’t look at him when she kept talking.

“Like, you know, maybe you shouldn’t be allowed to sleep with me, or, um, wake up with me, or, um… both. That’s a good rule.”

“Belle –” he said yet again but she kept right on talking.

“And, maybe you’re not allowed to kiss me anymore.”

“Are you allowed to kiss me?” he asked and she heard it, plain as day, there was amusement in his voice.

Her eyes flew to his face and she saw it plain as day there too.

“No,” she answered. “No kissing. None at all. Either you or me.”

“I don’t agree to that rule,” he retorted, throwing back the covers.

Her body went solid in fear and she realised, again too late, that she should have run from the room or locked herself in the bathroom or thrown herself out of a window or something.

She still had time but her feet refused to move.

She watched him get out of bed. She noted he was wearing a pair of dark grey, drawstring pyjama bottoms that looked way too good on his behind and then he started walking around it, toward her.

“Either me not kissing you or you not kissing me. Especially you not kissing me,” he stressed and stopped in front of her, his hand coming to her jaw, his voice dipping low and rumbly. “You’ve never kissed me like that before. That was nice, poppet.”

“Another rule!” Belle announced way too loudly, taking a step back and away from his hand which dropped to his side. “You can’t call me ‘poppet’ anymore.”

He grinned. “I don’t agree to that, either.”

She blinked at him. “Well, do you agree to the first one, the no sleeping together?”