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  He’d do it tomorrow morning when she was eating breakfast in his bed after he’d made love to her again.

  “She won’t mind,” Jack said and he felt Belle’s body jerk.

  “She won’t mind?” Belle’s sweet voice had grown louder. “She’s your Mum. How could she not mind that I came to her birthday party with one brother and spent the night with the other?”

  “Belle –” Jack tried to break in but she was struggling again in his arms.

  “She’s going to think I’m a slut.” Belle’s eyes had left his and she was muttering with agitation as she fought his hold on her. “And rude,” she added and then finished with hilarious melodrama. “Oh my God. She’s going to think I’m rude slut!”

  Jack bit back laughter and began again, “Belle –”

  But she kept talking and fighting.

  “I have to go, tonight. I should have left when you were asleep. I don’t know what I was thinking. Why didn’t I go? I should have gone. I should –”

  Jack silenced her by wrapping a fist in her thick, soft hair and gently tugging.

  Her body stilled and her head tipped back. He seized his opportunity, his mouth descended to hers and he kissed her quiet.

  He took his time and he made certain to do a thorough job of it.

  When he lifted his head, her body had melted into his, her face was soft and her eyes had no trouble holding his.

  Jack noted this achievement for future reference.

  “Now, listen to me,” Jack ordered softly when he had her undivided attention. “I’ll explain things to Mum. I’ll explain things to Miles.” He watched her wince when he said Miles’s name but he kept talking. “Trust me, they’ll understand.”

  “What can you possibly say that will make them understand?” she whispered, her voice horrified.

  “You haven’t been dating Miles long, have you?” he asked and she hesitated at his change of subject before she shook her head. “Was it serious?” he went on and she shook her head again. “Was it going to get serious?” he pressed gently and he felt her take in a breath and then sigh.

  “I was going to break up with him tomorrow, I –”

  Jack suppressed the sense of elation her words caused and cut her off by saying, “I’ll make him understand.”

  “I should talk to him,” she replied swiftly.

  His hand left her hair and came to her face, his thumb stroking her cheekbone.

  “You can talk to him after I talk to him. There are things you don’t understand. Things that I’ll explain.” She opened her mouth to speak but Jack kept talking, “Not now, in the morning.” He dipped his face closer and touched his mouth to hers then left it there. “You can trust me, Belle. I’ll take care of it.”

  She pulled slightly away, her eyes left his and he felt her body start to stiffen again so he ran his hand down her spine, something that caused her to stop bracing and start to tremble.

  He noted this for future reference too.

  “Belle,” he called.

  She didn’t look at him when she asked quietly, “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  Her gaze moved to his nose and she replied, “Why everything? Me, tonight, what happened. All of it.”

  His hand went back to the side of her face and he demanded quietly, “Look at me, poppet.”

  After a brief hesitation, she lifted her eyes to his and only then did he speak.

  “I’m not going to explain why. I’m going to take the time and show you why.” His hand moved down to her jaw and his voice got deeper when he went on, “And I’ll do it until you get it. Until you understand how lovely you are.” His thumb moved along her lower lip as he continued, “Until you understand how interesting you are.” His thumb left her lip and his mouth replaced it. “Until you understand why I’d drag you to my room to fuck you. And until you understand why I want to do it again.” He brushed his mouth against hers before he murmured, “And again.”

  As he spoke, her body became soft and yielding in his arms, her hands slid from his chest and her own arms curved around him.

  When he finished, she dropped down and rested her cheek against his chest, her forehead pressed to his neck and she whispered, “You have to know, this isn’t me. I don’t know who this is. I don’t behave like this,” she paused then, for emphasis, she added, “ever.”

  “Like what?”

  She replied in a barely there voice. “What we did tonight. I don’t do things like that. I know you want me to think it’s all right but what we did was wrong.”

  Her long hair was spread across his forearms and he gathered it in a hand to twist it softly in his fist before he replied, “There was nothing wrong about what we did.”

  He felt her shake her head against his chest but even as she disagreed with him, her arms grew tighter.

  “Jack –” she started to protest.

  “Belle,” he cut her off. “What I saw of you tonight with Miles was wrong. Very wrong. What we have is not.”

  “Jack –” she began again but he gave her hair a gentle tug, she stopped speaking and tilted her head back to look at him as he dipped his chin down.

  When he caught her eyes, he spoke. “If you let me in, poppet, even a little bit, I’ll prove it to you. I promise you, I’ll make you understand. This, whatever it is, and we both feel it, is right.”

  He felt her grow still and watched her tongue wet her lips before she said words in an awful voice that left no doubt how much it cost her to say them or, indeed, the terrible feeling behind them. “I’ve done that before, with a man, let him in. It wasn’t smart.”

  It was Jack’s turn to grow still.

  He wanted to know what she meant but understood intuitively that conversation was also not for the moonlight but for the daylight when she was eating breakfast in his bed after he’d made her come and after she’d done the same to him.

  “I’m not that man,” Jack returned firmly.

  She started to pull away but his arm around her grew tight and she stopped.

  “Jack, you have to listen to me,” she demanded, a hint of desperation in her voice.

  “No.” He slid her back up his chest so they were face-to-face and went on, his voice turning fierce. “Tonight is ours. Tomorrow morning, I’ll explain how it is and, if you’ll share it with me, you’ll explain. Then I’ll take care of everything.” She shook her head and his fingers holding her hair wrapped around the back of her head to stop her movement. “Belle, you can trust me.” He dropped his forehead to hers and repeated his oath in a forceful murmur. “I promise you, you can trust me.”

  He watched close up as her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

  Then they opened and focussed on him.

  Then she whispered in an aching voice that registered painfully somewhere deep in his gut, “You promise?”

  That was when he thought her part of the conversation might not be best left until the morning.

  “Belle, perhaps you should tell me –”

  It was Belle’s turn to interrupt Jack.

  “You have to promise,” she demanded.

  Jack’s hand left her hair and both his arms wrapped around her.

  “I promise,” he muttered and started to ask. “Now –”

  But she shook her head. “In the morning.”

  “Belle –” Jack began but she cut him off.

  “In the morning.” she repeated.

  Jack’s voice dipped lower in warning. “Belle –”

  She completely ignored his warning.

  Before he could say more, she pulled slightly away and said, “Let’s go to bed.”

  Jack didn’t move.

  Belle put her hands to his chest, pushed up, broke through his arms and scooted from between his legs. She came to her feet beside him next to Baron and, one hand scratching behind Baron’s ears, she bent and grabbed Jack’s hand with the other.

  “Come to bed,” she whispered.

  For a brief moment, Jack Bennett sat in the w
indow of his room looking at his woman in his shirt standing next to his dog.

  After that moment was over, he didn’t need to be asked a third time to go to bed.

  Chapter Four

  Sibling Rivalry

  Belle

  Belle woke tucked in the curve of Jack’s warm, hard body, his heavy arm resting on her waist.

  The sunlight was shining in her face.

  The events of the night before hit her in a happy rush. Thinking about them, she snuggled into Jack and felt his arm tighten in his sleep.

  This made her smile.

  She shouldn’t be smiling. She should be embarrassed at how she’d behaved, what she’d done.

  Belle “Meek and Mild” Abbot would be embarrassed.

  No, Belle “Meek and Mild” Abbot wouldn’t be embarrassed, she’d be mortified.

  But this Belle, whoever she was, wasn’t.

  She wasn’t because Jack Bennett didn’t take her back to the party.

  In the dark, in his study, he saw her pet his dog and look out his window.

  Then he spent the next hour showing her things she’d want to see not things he wanted her to see.

  And he knew straight away she wasn’t a people person and didn’t judge her. Nor did he force her to stand at his side while he introduced her to person after person necessitating that she make small talk, her most hated thing in the world (outside of the media and their microphones and cameras, she hated them more than small talk, loads more).

  Instead, he protected her, took her away from the crush to someplace safe. Someplace she liked to be.

  And he asked her questions and listened to her answers like not only was he interested in her responses but as if he cared.

  And he’d given her three orgasms.

  Three unbelievable orgasms.

  She’d never had one induced by a partner.

  Not a single one.

  And in one night, Jack had given her three.

  Belle read romance novels but she always thought all that rigmarole about passionate, mind-boggling sex which could sweep you away on a fiery hot wave was all fiction made up by extremely imaginative women.

  But it wasn’t.

  It was real.

  And it was fantastic.

  And she wanted more of it, lots more (if it was with Jack that was).

  Furthermore, he said she could trust him.

  And she believed him.

  There was no way not to believe him, the way he made his promise. His voice was all low and rumbly, his arm was tight around her, his eyes were looking straight into hers.

  After Calvin, Belle knew better than to trust anyone ever again, or at least not a man.

  But she couldn’t help it, she trusted Jack.

  It was a risk. An uncalculated, spur of the moment, outrageous risk but for the first time in her life Belle wasn’t the least bit frightened.

  Because somewhere during their middle of the night, moonlit talk she realised she was safe with him. She could be herself with him and he actually liked it.

  Criminally Handsome James Bennett liked her, Belle “Meek and Mild” Abbot.

  He liked her a lot.

  She could tell. It was hard to miss with all of the sex and cuddling and moonlit conversations full of promises.

  Lastly, he called her “poppet” and it wasn’t like Miles calling her “gorgeous”.

  Belle understood why she wasn’t fond of endearments uttered early in a relationship.

  Because they were empty and meaningless.

  When Jack called her “poppet”, it was different. It wasn’t empty nor was it meaningless.

  It was warm and full of the possibility of something rich and rewarding.

  She finally knew why she had that strange, thrilling feeling of expectation before she joined the party last night.

  She had her very first premonition. Her mother, who had them all the time (practically hourly) would be in fits of delight when Belle told her.

  She’d had the premonition that she’d meet Jack and it would be as wonderful as it was.

  On that thought, she heard the jangle of dog tags and saw Baron sit up from his place on the floor at her side of the bed. His head swung toward Belle and he rested it on the mattress, his doggie eyes blinking at her.

  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.