Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(88)

Belle got to work, making the coffee, setting the table, mincing the garlic, grating the cheese, slicing the bread and was whisking the eggs when Jack walked in. He was barefoot, wearing only his trousers, his glorious chest on display, his hair tousled in a way that was too sexy for words.

She went into an instant trance at the sight of Jack looking like that while walking into her kitchen. She decided somewhere in the back of her mind that was still functioning that he definitely should be locked up for the betterment of womankind.

And Belle’s druthers would be that he was locked up in her cottage.

She was so in a trance, she barely moved when he hooked her with his arm around her waist, hauling her to his body and his mouth crushed down on hers in a kiss so mind-boggling, it was a wonder her trance didn’t turn into a coma.

When his head came up, he demanded, “Fucking wake me before you get out of bed.”

He sounded not loving morning fresh but irritated.

“What?” she breathed, still not over his kiss.

“Wake me before you get out of bed,” he repeated.

“But,” she whispered idiotically, “that’s rude.”

His face got close. “It isn’t rude if I ask you to do it.”

“But,” she went on, still idiotically, “what if you need your sleep?”

His other arm circled her. “After last night, Belle, I need my sleep. I still want you to wake me up.”

“Why?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter why,” he returned and his hand came up, tangling in her hair then he went on to command. “Just wake me, kiss me, tell me good f**king morning and then you can get out of bed.”

“Oh… kay,” she replied hesitantly but not happily.

Most of his demands were bossy, definitely, but also somehow sweet.

This one was just weird and very concerning.

She dropped her eyes to his shoulder and felt her stomach clench.

His hand tugged gently at her hair, her gaze went back to his and she saw his face had gone soft.

“I’ll get used to it, having you,” he explained and his voice had gone soft too. “Right now, I’m not used to it.”

It dawned on her that she’d run away from him the first morning after they’d been together. Since then she had been either avoiding him or escaping him on a regular basis, including crawling out of bed in the mornings before he woke.

Therefore this particular beast was a beast of her own making.

She pressed closer and wrapped her arms loosely around his waist.

“I’ll wake you,” she promised.

He gave her a squeeze and warned, “You should probably know, even when I’m used to it I’ll still want a kiss before you leave our bed.”

“That won’t be hard to do,” she assured him.

That’s when he grinned.

That was it then. He was done. No yelling, threatening, throwing things or hitting her.

She felt secret relief.

Then she grinned back.

“Do you want eggs?” she asked.

He looked to the counter saying, “I’m starved.”

She gave him a squeeze and when his eyes came back to her, she smiled at him with genuine, unabashed excitement and cried, “Great!”

She exuberantly tried to pull away but got about an inch before he hauled her back against his body.

When she looked at him, he called, “Belle?”

She tilted her head in enquiry, still smiling happily and returned, “Yes?”

His eyes shifted to her mouth for a moment before going back to hers.

“My Belle?” he asked.

The question made her breath catch and she didn’t know the answer but she knew what she hoped it was.

He also had a strange look on his face, warm even tender but also like he too was in some sort of trance (but apparently, during his trances, he could actually talk, he just couldn’t say much).

“Are you okay?” Belle queried.

“Are you okay?” Jack queried back.

She smiled again and answered, “Yes.”

“You seem pretty excited about eggs,” he remarked cautiously.

She tilted her head again and leaned into him. “You haven’t had my eggs.”

Then she gently pulled out of his arms, got him a cup of coffee, pulled out two skillets then the butter, put the toast in the toaster all the while babbling.

“My Dad taught my Mom how to make eggs. Then they got in a competition about who could make them best. When I was old enough, they both taught me how to make them. Everyone agrees mine are the best of them all. Even me and I try to be humble but I can’t be about my eggs, they’re that good. And anyway, I get to cook for you. Elaine, or whoever, cooks for you and I don’t get to do anything. Boiling some veg and grilling some steaks isn’t the same as really cooking. So, yay!”

She threw butter in one skillet, slices of bacon in the other, turned on the burner under the bacon, so busy she hadn’t felt the air turn velvet all around them.

When he didn’t speak, never looking at him, she kept babbling.

“You should know, by the way, if Dad should show up, which he might considering the pictures in the paper, that Mom and Dad didn’t have a nasty divorce. They still love each other. They hook up every time they get together. They just got a divorce because Dad’s kind of wild and Mom knew it would drive her bonkers so she let him go rather than let it get ugly.”