Belle
Her house felt different with someone else inside it—especially someone like Beast. He filled so much of her tiny home with his big body, and he made her feel safer than she had any right to feel.
Having Beast in her home helped her to realize that the place was slowly starting to feel like home—her home. And somehow Beast made it feel even more like one.
She locked the front door behind them, then checked it again, and then again.
Then, she went to each window and made sure the latches were tight.
She could feel Beast’s eyes on her back the whole time, warm and heavy.
When she finally turned around to face him, she caught his raised brow and felt heat crawling up her neck.
“Habit,” she muttered, rubbing her arm. “When he started stalking me, I began the routine of checking all the locks on the windows and doors. It’s pathetic, I know.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s a good habit,” he said in that deep, steady voice that could calm a storm. “It means you’re being careful.” Something in her chest loosened, just a little. It was enough to be able to breathe.
“I know that we haven’t had dinner yet, but I’m tired. Do you mind if I get some sleep? I haven’t slept well in weeks,” she said.
“Of course,” he agreed. “Do you mind if I catch some shut eye, too?” The thought of not being in the same room as him wasn’t one that she liked.
He nodded and took his hand into hers, once again causing her stomach to do a little flip-flop from the contact.
They walked to her bedroom together—slow, careful steps like they were carrying something breakable between them.
And in a way, they were. Belle stopped at the edge of the bed, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. Her heart thudded in her throat.
“You can take the couch. I mean—I know you said the bed is safer, but—”
“Belle.” His tone was gentle but firm enough to stop her rambling, as he stepped closer, she didn’t move back.
“You’ll sleep better if I’m right here. And I’m not going to make anything weird.
Or push you for anything you’re not ready for.
” She looked up at him, as though searching his expression for even a hint of pressure or expectation.
She found none. Bell only found warmth, strength, and safety she hadn’t felt in so long that it almost hurt.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Stay.” His breath caught.
It was so faint that she almost missed it, but the tiny sound made her chest ache.
They climbed into the bed awkwardly, like two people trying not to spook each other.
She stayed on her side, curled up at the edge of the mattress.
While Beast lay rigid on his back, arms behind his head, shoulders so broad they nearly swallowed the room.
The silence felt thick and deliberate as Belle stared at the ceiling, then him, then the ceiling again.
“You can relax, you know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not made of glass.”
Beast let out a low, soft huff of a laugh. “Sweetheart, I’m the problem. I’m trying not to take up half the mattress.”
“You already take up half the universe,” she teased before she could stop herself. His head turned towards her, and she turned to face him. Their eyes met in the dark—steady, warm, and electric. Her breath hitched.
“Good night, Belle,” he said, his voice rough in a way that made her toes curl.
“Good night, Beast,” she whispered. They lay there, pretending sleep would come easily, but it didn’t. Not at first, but the room stayed quiet, the bed warm from their body heat. His presence was solid beside her instead of lurking outside like a shadow that didn’t belong.
Eventually, slowly, her body relaxed. Her eyelids grew heavy, and exhaustion finally carried them both away.
Belle woke slowly—first to warmth, then to weight on top of her body. The realization that she was not alone in her bed hit her like a bucket of cold water. She didn’t know what time it was or how long she’d been asleep, but she knew exactly how close Beast was before she even opened her eyes.
She was practically wrapped around him. Her thigh was slung over his hip. Her arm was locked around his waist like she’d been afraid to let go of him. And her cheek rested against the side of his throat, her breath brushing the warm skin there in soft, uneven puffs.
And his hand—God, his hand was under her shirt—his rough palm spread over the bare curve of her waist, warm and firm and protective in a way she didn’t know she needed until that moment.
Heat swept through her, not fear, and definitely not embarrassment.
It was something deeper. Something that made her chest feel tight, and her stomach flutter.
She shifted, barely a breath of movement, and her lips brushed his jaw—accidental and sleepy. Beast sucked in a sharp breath. “Belle,” His voice was low and sexy, the kind of sound that made warmth pool deep in her belly.
Her eyes blinked open, and the world around her was hazy as she tried to adjust to the dark. That’s when she saw his face inches from hers. Belle could see the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his breath, and she realized how tangled up they were.
But she didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers curled into his shirt, gripping it like she needed the anchor. “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, voice soft and raspy from sleep. Her hips stayed pressed to his side, giving her away. “I must’ve gravitated to your side of the bed in my sleep.”
His thumb brushed the bare edge of her waist, warm skin met warm skin, and she shivered. “Not complaining,” he murmured. “Are you?”
Belle felt her cheeks flush even in the dark. She shook her head. “No.” Her knee slid a little higher without her meaning to, brushing his impressive erection, and she gasped. The moment her leg made contact, Beast exhaled—harsh but controlled—his forehead dropping gently against hers.
“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he whispered. The words sent a rush of heat through her that made her breath stutter. Belle tilted her head, just slightly, following instinct more than thought.
Her lips grazed his jaw again—soft, deliberate this time.
“Beast,” she whispered, her mouth brushing his ear.
“I feel safe like this. It feels right to be with you like this.” Her hand slid up his chest, fingers tracing the lines of muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt.
She felt the way his body tensed under her touch, and she felt the heat rolling off him in waves.
“Belle,” he breathed, his thumb stroking higher along her waist, slow and reverent.
“Tell me to back off, and I will. Just say it.” He almost sounded as though he was begging her to tell him to stop, but she wouldn’t.
She lifted her face, and their noses brushed.
Her lips parted, and her breath caught as she brushed her lips against his.
“I don’t want you to back off, Beast,” she admitted.
A low curse rumbled from his chest, soft, rough, and hungry, and that sound nearly undid her.
She learned in first as their lips met in a soft, warm kiss—tentative but charged, a spark that lit instantly.
Belle felt the way he froze at first, trying to hold himself back, then the moment he gave in.
He kissed her deeper, slow but intense, like he’d been starving for a taste of her.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she shifted, sliding fully on top of him, straddling his thigh without thinking—without wanting to stop. Belle shamelessly ground herself against his big thigh, needing to find her release more than she needed her next breath.
Beast’s hands clamped onto her hips, holding her in place, his groan vibrating against her mouth. “Sweetheart,” he murmured between kisses, the words rough with need, “you keep moving like that, I’m gonna lose every bit of control I’ve got.”
Belle pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. She could see his hunger for her, but she also saw his restraint. She didn’t want him to hold back with her—she wanted all of him. Her voice trembled, but not from fear. “Maybe I don’t want you in control.”
Heat flashed across his face, dark and fierce, and for a second, she thought that she had pushed him too far and asked him for too much. She was about to tell him to forget everything that she had just said when he cupped her cheeks gently, his thumbs brushing her skin like she was precious.
“We go slow,” he said, voice thick with want. “You’re scared. You’re exhausted. You’ve been through hell. I’m not taking advantage of that.”
Belle’s heart squeezed as she leaned into his touch, letting her forehead rest against his.
“I don’t feel scared right now,” she whispered.
“For the first time in weeks, I feel safe and wanted.” His eyes softened as some of his worry seemed to disappear.
He kissed her again—slow, deep, and reverent like he was promising something without saying a word.
When they finally separated, breathless, warm, and trembling, Belle lowered herself onto his chest, her fingers still knotted in his shirt like she couldn’t let go even if she tried. Beast wrapped both arms around her, pulling her close, his breath brushing the top of her head.
“Sleep,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I’m not going anywhere.” Belle sighed, sinking into him completely, her body settling into the safest place she’d known in ages. She drifted back to sleep with his heartbeat under her ear.
Beast stayed awake long after she did. She could feel it in the steady tension of his arms around her even as she faded out, and some part of her knew that whatever line they’d crossed tonight, neither of them would be stepping back over it. Not now. Not ever.