At the feel of him there, she arched her back and neck as he lifted her calves over his shoulders.
Calvin never did this to her. He hated it. He expected her to put her mouth on him but he didn’t return the favour.
Jack was good at it. So good she was writhing under his mouth, noises escaping her lips, her hands deep in his hair holding him to her and she felt it coming and it was going to be beautiful.
Then his mouth disappeared, Belle gave a soft cry of protest but his body came over her. He didn’t rest his weight on her but rolled them, her on top. Without delay, he jerked her knees to straddling him. He shifted his hand quickly between them and sat up, taking Belle with him, filling her as they went.
Her head dropped back with the delicious feel of him deep inside and her arms wrapped around his shoulders and held on tight.
His hands went to her h*ps and she tipped her head to look at him.
“I thought I remembered,” she whispered, her mouth against his. “How good you felt.”
“Belle,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, a hand sliding into her hair and fisting in it with gentle force.
“I thought I remembered,” she repeated, beginning to glide up. “But I didn’t remember you feeling half this good.”
She didn’t get the chance to slide back down.
She found herself on her back, Jack up on his forearms, his h*ps pounding into hers.
She loved it, every nanosecond of it.
Of which there weren’t many.
It built and exploded with raw, exquisite intensity.
So much, she almost missed his thrusts deepening and his breath catching against her neck before he sighed.
She took his weight for only a moment before he pulled her legs up his sides, hands behind her knees and, keeping them connected, he rolled to his back.
She rested her forehead against his jaw, trying to get her breathing back to normal. Jack stroked her spine as she felt his erratic breaths with the rise and fall of his chest.
Okay, so, she’d just taken a risk, she’d jumped in with both feet and found something hugely rich and rewarding.
Then her mind, never her best friend, took her back to the morning after their first night together, reminding her of what she said.
Then it reminded her how Jack responded. How he’d been stunned and insulted when he realised she actually believed he’d used her as a prize in a competition with his brother.
And she had believed that.
And she’d walked away and not looked back.
Then she’d gotten pregnant and didn’t intend to tell him.
Then she again threw his supposed behaviour with his brother in his face in the bathroom after she’d had All Freaking Day Long Sickness and again in the stables.
She’d done all this when (not including the time he was angry at her when she first came back into his life), he’d never been anything but that Jack of the first night.
Okay, maybe he had been something else but that something was his being much more of the Jack of that first night.
She was the idiot to end all idiots.
And she’d been right when she wasn’t able to non-think that evening on the cliffs.
What she’d done wasn’t rude.
It was unforgiveable.