“Oh my God,” she whispered right before her body froze solid.
Instantly, he stopped stroking her spine and his arms wrapped tight around her.
“Belle,” he called.
“Oh my God,” she repeated, pushing away from him, causing their bodies to disconnect but he held even tighter.
“Belle,” he called again, one arm moving up so he could wrap a hand in her hair.
“Let me go, Jack,” she whispered, her voice sounding ugly with fear.
He tugged gently at her hair but she resisted, keeping her forehead pressed against his jaw and pushing at his chest.
“Belle, damn it, look at me,” he bit out and when she didn’t, he rolled again so he was on top. She took a goodly amount of his weight at her hips, his legs tangled with hers but he twisted his torso away and rested his weight into his forearm in the mattress at her side.
His other hand came to her jaw and he turned her to face him.
When her eyes met his, he looked a mixture of concerned and irritated and asked in a curt voice, “What’s in that head of yours, poppet?”
She studied at him for a moment then two, all she could think was that he was criminally handsome even looking concerned and irritated.
Then she burst into tears.
She covered her face with her hands and tried to roll in the opposite direction but he caught her and pulled her to him, positioning them both on their sides, his legs still tangled heavily with hers, his arms tight around her.
“Jesus, Belle, what is it?”
She shook her head and his fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled one of her hands from her face.
“Belle, talk to me,” he demanded.
She moved her other hand and looked at him, tears still streaming from her eyes.
“That morning after I met you, I walked down the hall to my room thanking my lucky stars that I met you,” she announced, her voice quiet and trembling and she felt his body go still but she ignored it. “Then I… then things…” she hesitated, “then everything happened. And I said the most awful things to you.” A sob surged up and tore free and she shoved her face in his chest. “And I just realised I was wrong. I was wrong!” she cried and then pressed her hand into his chest, not to get away but to let go some of the feeling she felt.
She tilted her head back and shouted, “I spit on my stars!”
Then she burst into another wave of tears and shoved her face in his chest again, the sobs rocking her body.
Jack let her cry, stroking her back with one hand, the other one gliding through her hair then up, his fingers sifting in only to glide back through.
She got control of her tears (not much, but some) and tilted her head back again. “I’m not crazy and this isn’t hormones,” she declared hotly.
“All right, love,” he replied in a gentle voice.
“I’m just not good at being rude,” she explained. “Rude is the worst. And what I did was beyond rude. It was unforgiveable!” she ended on a near shout.
Jack stopped stroking her back and hair and leaned into her so she was on her back again and he was looming over her, legs still tangled with hers.
“I think that’s for me to decide, don’t you?” he asked and her body jerked.
She stopped crying and stammered, “Wh… what?”
“It’s for me to decide if what you did was unforgiveable,” he repeated, his hand coming to her face and gently wiping away her tears.
He was right.
“You’re right,” she whispered and held her breath.