His fingers slid through her hair at her back, came up then plunged in for another pass (and she distractedly registered she liked his hands sifting through her hair, quite a lot) as he answered, “If you need clothes, I’ll get you another shirt.”
Belle didn’t mind wearing his shirts. In fact, she liked it.
Still, for some reason only known to someplace deep in the back of her anxious mind, she knew she needed her stuff. She didn’t know why but she felt somehow exposed without it. Not to Jack but to everyone else in the castle.
She didn’t want to emerge from Jack’s room sometime in the afternoon with the remnants of her makeup from the night before on her face and either Jack’s shirt or her dress on her body.
The very idea was the definition of mortifying.
Therefore she kept trying to find a way to get to her room. “I need underwear.”
His smile turned wicked as his eyes caught hers. “No you don’t.”
Her belly did a flip before it dipped at his words (and his smile) but she kept trying. “I need something to pull my hair back.”
He moved a thick tress over her shoulder and twisted it around his fingers against her chest. “I like your hair down.”
“Jack!” she exclaimed in frustration.
“Belle.” He grinned, totally disregarding her frustration and seemingly having the time of his life.
Belle tried yet again. “I need my cleanser, moisturiser. I need my stuff.”
The amusement in his gaze gentled, he lifted his head and touched his mouth to hers again. “All right, poppet. I’ll call Elaine and get her to move your things in here.”
Belle’s body went solid and almost at the same instant she felt Jack brace under her but she didn’t pay any attention even as his hand left her hair so his arm could wrap tightly around her back.
“You can’t call Elaine,” Belle declared even though she had no idea who Elaine was. She didn’t want anyone to know she was moving into Jack’s room except her and Jack.
“Why not?” Jack asked.
“Because she, whoever she is, will know I’m with you.”
“And?” Belle felt her eyes grow wide at that question, thinking the “and” was obvious but Jack kept talking. “Belle, people are going to know, very soon.”
“They’re going to think –” Belle started but Jack cut her off with a squeeze of his arms.
“I don’t give a f**k what they think.”
“Well, I do,” Belle told him.
“You shouldn’t.”
He was right. She shouldn’t.
Perhaps there was still some Old Belle hanging around.
“I know,” she admitted softly. “I still do.”
He studied her face and then he sighed.
Belle instinctively felt she’d forged an advantage so she took it.
“Can we please have a little time?” she asked quietly. “Just for, you know, ourselves?”
She watched his face grow soft before he replied, “Of course,” and Belle relaxed on top of him for half a second before he spoke again. “I’ll go get your things.”
She went solid in horror before declaring, “You can’t get my stuff.”