She just couldn’t.
She wanted to cover his hand with hers
She wanted to lean up and kiss his strong, dark-stubbled jaw.
She wanted to run her hand down his bare chest.
No, she wanted to run her tongue down his bare chest.
While she was thinking these thoughts (and staring at his chest), Jack’s eyes came back to her face.
“Have you thought of any names?” he asked, her eyes jerked to his collarbone as her thoughts, with some effort, focussed on his question and she licked her lips.
She didn’t want to talk about baby names with Jack while they were in bed together.
How she was talking about baby names while they were in bed together, she had no idea.
She’d much prefer to write her list down in an e-mail and send it to him.
“Belle,” Jack called and she knew the e-mail name exchange idea was out.
Her eyes rose from their mindless study of his collarbone to his face and she blurted, “Lucas for a boy, Olivia for a girl.” Then worried he wouldn’t like those names so she went on, “I also like Harry.” When he showed no response, just watched her face silently, she kept going, “And Noah.” He again didn’t speak so she carried on, “And Nathan.”
“Nathan.” he murmured and the way he said that name, the way it sounded with his deep voice wrapped around it, she knew she’d battle to the death to give her child that name.
“Nathan,” she whispered and watched his eyes drop to her mouth.
Then she watched his face grow soft and gentle, a look she hadn’t seen in four months.
There was something profound happening. The kind of profound something that happened when a mother and father decided what to name their child.
She felt it slide warmly through her, taking over, taking control and before she knew it (or could stop herself), her hand moved to cover his on her belly.
His eyes lifted to hers and her hand kept going, sliding up his forearm.
“Belle,” he muttered and her hand glided up his bicep.
“Jack,” she whispered and, as she was studying his mouth, she missed the flash in his eyes and her fingers curled around his shoulder.
Still controlled by the moment and not her own neurotic mind, she lifted up and put her mouth on his.
Then she kissed him.
Kissed him.
She didn’t know what she was doing. She wasn’t herself and she had no idea what this New Belle intended to get from her behaviour.
But Jack knew exactly what he wanted and the minute her lips touched his, he took it.
His torso pressed hers into the bed, his arm wrapped around her waist and he rolled to his back, taking her with him, his mouth locked on hers, his tongue sliding inside.
His hands drove into the hair on either side of her head and held her to him as she tilted her head, her tongue dancing wildly with his.
This felt so good, her belly flipped then melted and her body moulded to his. Her arm wrapped around him and she moved to her side, urging him to come with her (and he did) so her hands could roam the skin and muscle of his back.
He felt good.
Actually, he felt great.