Chapter 8 #3
Victor turned around, his smirk so smug and amused, she wondered if he had eyes in the back of his head.
“I’m not smiling,” Belle lied.
Pip tilted her head in that sassy, too-smart way of hers. “You look like I do when I get a red Popsicle.”
Victor, who’d foolishly taken a sip of his coffee, choked, then turned his back to them rather than hop in to help her out.
Traitor.
“I’m just in a good mood.”
Pip’s forehead creased, confused. “Why?”
“Because it’s a nice day,” Belle replied.
Pip turned toward the kitchen window, her confusion growing. “It’s raining. We can’t go swimming.”
Pip’s barometer for good and bad days was solely reliant on the swimming schedule.
The tiny little girl was in danger of turning into a fish, given the amount of time they spent in the pool.
Not that Pip would mind. Victor had taken to calling her his little mermaid, which meant they’d been subjected to watching The Little Mermaid no less than ten times in the last few weeks, and the music from the show had been playing on repeat on Belle’s phone.
At this rate, her Wrapped on Spotify come December would list her listening age as six years old.
Which might actually be an improvement on last year’s, which had aged her at seventy-two, thanks to the big ’70s classic rock kick she and Vivian had been on most of last summer and through the fall.
“The rain just means we can chill inside and have a movie day,” Belle said, scrambling.
Pip lit up. “Can we pretend we’re at the movie theater?”
Playing pretend was Pip’s favorite thing.
“Of course,” Belle replied quickly, happy she’d distracted Pip from her maniacal grin and ass-ogling. “That’ll be fun. We’ll draw the curtains and turn off the lights.”
Pip eyed her. “That means popcorn with butter and a Sprite.”
Vivian only allowed Pip to have caffeine-free soda on special occasions, or when they went out to dinner or to the movies.
Victor glanced over his shoulder, looking far too entertained at the way his young niece had manipulated Belle so that she could get soda at home.
“Fine,” she consented.
Pip cheered, hopping off the kitchen stool and darting over to Victor. “Are you going to come to the movies with us?”
Victor nodded. “Of course. What are we watching?”
Victor and Belle both groaned in unison when Pip shouted, “The Little Mermaid,” and darted out of the room.
* * *
Afternoons had become quite dangerous, Belle decided a week later.
And not because of Pip, but because Victor had zero shame when it came to getting handsy in the pool.
“Behave,” Belle hissed, when his hand slid along her hip beneath the surface. Pip wasn’t looking, as she was too busy climbing out of the pool, preparing to do her four-thousandth “Watch me!” leap from the side.
“Never,” Victor growled, slipping his hand between her legs, giving her a too-quick stroke. If she wasn’t already soaking wet from the pool, that touch would have done the job just as well.
“Pip’s right there,” she whispered.
“And not watching.”
Belle looked as Pip walked over to the picnic table to take a sip from her juice box before returning. After that, she got distracted by Victor’s array of floaties, trying to decide if she wanted to play with a noodle or the inflatable dragon.
With her attention on something else, Victor took advantage of her distraction, stealing a kiss. It was quick, but it stole Belle’s breath anyway.
“Uncle Vic,” Pip shouted, racing back toward the pool. “Watch this!”
“Walk,” he said to the little girl sternly, the same way he had at least a dozen times already today. When she was one, Pip hadn’t learned to walk like most children. She’d learned to run, and she’d been doing it ever since. She had only two speeds—standing still and sixty miles an hour.
Victor slid by Belle, close enough that his body brushed against hers, swimming to where Pip stood next to the pool. “What am I watching?”
“I’m going to throw this in the pool, then jump on it,” Pip said, her arms overloaded with the huge dragon floatie. “You have to give me a score, like in the ’Lympics.”
Pip had been enthralled by the Winter Olympics last February. So much so that now, every time she did anything, she demanded a serious rating.
“Okay.” Victor rested his arms along the edge of the pool, giving Pip room for her trick.
“You have to give me a score too, Belle.”
She saluted in response, and the rest of the afternoon passed in a beautiful blur of secret touches, stolen kisses, and lots and lots of dragon cannonball scores.
* * *
Belle rolled over and opened her eyes, blinking in the darkness. She’d roused before the alarm. A quick glance at the bedside clock showed her it was 4:52 a.m. Her internal clock had rewired itself to the new norm.
For the past three weeks, she’d essentially had two wake-up times. The first at five a.m. when Victor’s alarm went off, at which point she tiptoed down the hall to her own bed, climbing beneath the covers and grabbing a couple more hours of sleep before Pip rose.
She was surprised—and not surprised—by how easy it was for her to fall back to sleep after the bed swap. Typically, it was hard for Belle to nod off, even at night, because she had one of those brains that never shut down.
Victor seemed to know where the switch was.
Every night since he’d waylaid her after her date with Sean, she and Victor met on the patio after putting Pip to bed.
They’d established that routine early on in her stay here, so that wasn’t new.
What had changed since was the seating. Because nowadays, they shared a lounger, with her on Victor’s lap.
Him reclined in the chair, her against his chest.
There was nothing nicer than sitting together, snuggled up with his arms wrapped around her from behind.
Belle sighed happily, aware that once again, she’d woken up with a big-ass smile on her face. At this point, she wasn’t sure the muscles could even form another expression.
She held still, unwilling to leave the warmth of his bed just yet, as she replayed last night in her head. While every night had ended the same, with her in Victor’s bed, nothing else had been a repeat.
Victor was a walking, talking Kama Sutra.
The man was a maestro when it came to sex.
Belle’s past sexual experiences had been pretty tame.
With her two high school boyfriends, everything was new and exciting, but teen hormones also ensured everything was over quick.
As such, she’d never gotten beyond missionary and doggie style.
The same held true with her and Trevor, the barista, mainly because their relationship had been less about passion and more about companionship. Trevor had been a great guy with a wicked sense of humor. When they were together, they laughed all the time.
Like, all. The. Time.
And while cracking each other up in bed by acting silly was fun, it hadn’t leant itself to any burning desire or even great orgasms. Half the time they started laughing so hard, they just gave up and went to sleep.
With Victor…
Belle drew in a breath and felt her body growing hot.
Just the memory of the things they’d done together sent her body into overdrive.
He’d introduced her to sixty-nine. Ho. Ly. Fuck. She was a fan of that position…BIG fan.
They’d also had sex up against the bedroom wall, in the shower, with her bent over the bathroom sink, and even in that reading chair in the corner of his room. According to Victor, she was a natural cowgirl—especially in reverse.
Her shoulders shook a bit as she tried not to giggle, lest she wake up Victor. It was just…she was so damn happy.
Last night, the heat of summer had truly kicked in, the humidity lingering even though it was well after sundown.
Victor had suggested they go skinny-dipping, and Belle didn’t need to be asked twice.
The things that man managed to do to her underwater had blown her mind.
So much so, she’d asked if he was really a merman in disguise, then suggested that all those Little Mermaid viewings had started to rub off on him.
The best part was, this didn’t feel like just sex to her.
Probably because Victor was revealing himself to be one hell of a romantic.
He’d started putting fresh flowers in her room every few days, playing soft music whenever they were on the patio—even pulling her up to slow dance with him a few times.
And she’d been incredibly touched when he framed a photo of the two of them with Pip, taken the day they went out for ice cream.
Pip, as always, had a huge ring of chocolate around her mouth, and Victor and Belle, who’d been in silly moods that day, had imitated it.
Victor had snapped the selfie of the three of them mugging for the photo with chocolate dripping down their chins.
Or, in Victor’s case, coating his beard.
She’d remarked it was her favorite photo ever, and he’d gone the extra mile, printing it out and framing it for her.
It rested on her bedside table, the first thing she saw when she woke up… the second time each day.
Apparently, Victor’s internal clock matched hers, because she felt him stir.
She lifted her head and Victor gave her a quick kiss before clearing his throat. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she whispered back, smiling at him.
They nuzzled for a few minutes more, stroking each other in a way that was more about comfort and warmth than arousal. Morning sex wasn’t something they’d attempted yet, neither of them wanting to run the risk of waking Pip.
When the alarm went off, Victor silenced it.
Belle twisted to her back, fighting to make herself get up and move down the hall. She hated leaving him.
“I guess I should go,” she said, turning to him and smiling, unable to resist cupping his cheek and giving him another kiss.
“You’re happy,” Victor said.
“I am,” she replied.
Her smile wavered when she caught the flicker of something in his eyes. Something she couldn’t define—maybe concern, maybe regret, maybe hope, maybe none-of-the-above.
“Good,” he said quietly.
Belle considered continuing the conversation, but she really was a coward when it came to defining this thing between them. Everything still felt so tenuous and uncertain, and she was afraid of ruining it.
She wasn’t ready to get off the Ferris wheel yet.
Especially when Victor lowered his head and kissed her.
It wasn’t his usual gentle morning kiss. This one was hungrier, and she couldn’t resist the temptation, couldn’t help responding to it.
From there, neither of them could stop, after too many years of yearning.
Every touch mattered.
Every moment counted.
He took her quietly, slowly, softly.
It was beautiful, and afterward, Belle lay there tangled in his sheets, warm and sated and…yeah, happy.
So ridiculously, overwhelmingly happy.
They were floating in a bubble. In a perfect, fragile state where nothing outside mattered. Not Pip’s curiosity or Vivian’s reaction or the questions neither of them seemed ready to ask just yet.
Regardless of the uncertainty, Belle couldn’t make herself chase more. For some reason, she didn’t feel like she was waiting for her real life to start.
Because this was it. She was living it.
Drifting through her days on laughter, stolen kisses, shared meals, and quiet moments that meant everything.
Maybe the bubble would burst eventually.
There was no denying reality was definitely going to come knocking at some point, but for now?
Belle pressed a kiss against Victor’s shoulder, sinking into his embrace as he tightened his arm around her, both of them desperately stealing just one more minute.
For now…she was exactly where she wanted to be.
And she wasn’t letting go.