Chapter 30
POV: Dane?
I never operated in the gray—always in the black and white.
That’s why I ran tests. I always had the upper hand.
But right now, I was far from in control.
And every second inside of her—made black turn to gray.
As the final shudder passed through me, I realized Belle made me want to be more than the man I’d always been—to step into the gray, to loosen my grip on control, and learn how to be gentle when she needed softness.
I peered into her eyes, her big blue endless eyes, and for once, I didn’t know what she was thinking.
I didn’t know if she was scared, or angry or ashamed.
As I eased her back against the cool tile, my thumb traced gently down her cheek, savoring the softness of her skin and the slow flutter of her lashes from my touch.
“Belle,” I whispered, half plea, half doubt.
My hand shook lightly as I waited for her to look up.
Her eyes fluttered open, slowly, drinking in the sight of me again, and sending my heart pounding.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She just waited.
“Belle,” I began again, fighting my throat from closing.
I hadn’t ever confessed something of this caliber. I hadn’t admitted…feeling to a woman before.
A smirk formed on her lips, her eyes teasing me. “Go on. Spit it out, Dane.”
Goddamn her for being so calm, especially when I was falling apart inside.
I forced away the lump in my throat, steadying my breathing and pressing my palm firmly into the tile, to ground myself. “You’re fucking beautiful. You know that, right?”
The words seemed…wrong.
Hell, they were wrong.
I should’ve admitted my feelings for her not commented on something vain and shallow, surrounding her looks.
Of course that’s part of the reason I took her in the first place, because she was beautiful—she had a clear soft beauty that made me fantasize about the ways I’d have her—the ways I would break her. And I did break her.
But she ended up breaking me, too.
That was why I stood here, uneasy and hesitant.
“It’s not like you to not know what to say, Dane.”
There she goes, egging me on again. She knew what she was doing. She knew exactly what she was doing when her hand slid down my chest, then down my stomach, hovering right above my dick. She was teasing me. She was testing me this time.
My hand, the one that was holding her ass up, clamped tighter around it, sending a squeak from her disobedient mouth.
My mind started spiraling—thinking of the risks that came with my confession.
Would she laugh? Would she use my emotions against me? Would she try to escape? Would I regret it?
I didn’t have the answers to my questions.
All I had was the certain thought that a risk would be taken by stating my confession to her, and that I would have to decide to accept the consequences and tolerate it, or go back to big bad, kidnapper Dane and punish her.
Both seemed like tempting options. However, one alternative seemed like we would be going backwards, instead of growing.
My gaze locked onto her as I released a steady breath, squaring my shoulders, letting my authority settle into the space between us.
My eyes never left hers. “Belle, I love you.”
Every emotion passed between us in silence, spoken without a single word.
Her eyes widened, her lips parted, even her hand tremored.
“I mean it,” I added in, my tone even and calm. “I love you, Belle.”
I had two expectations.
One. I expected her to freak out—to lash out against me, even though I was soft and still inside of her. I expected I would have to pin her down, confine her back to her room, and deal with another outburst.
Two. I expected her to accept it—to accept my love and to say it back.
But she surprised me by doing neither.
Understanding washed over her face—and for a second, a word fell out of her mouth, a single word that could change the trajectory of everything.
“I—” But it died on her lips.
She closed her mouth up, her eyes still muddled with confusion as she watched me, watching her back. Then she straightened her shoulders and said, “Okay.”
I cocked an eyebrow, trying to not let my disappointment show in my voice. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she repeated, as if the word was easy to say.
Even though it was not easy to hear.
“What? Do you want me to lie? Is that part of your test, Dane—to see if I’ll lie to you?” she asked.
Her words hit like a blow to my stomach, almost knocking the air out of me, with the realization that for once, I was losing at my own game. I wasn’t in control any longer. Gabrielle was.
“No,” I paused, searching her face for emotion. “I don’t want you to lie. That’s not the point, Gabrielle.”
“Gabrielle?” she scoffed, as if the sound of her own name stung.
“Belle,” I corrected, giving into her once more.
I pinned her into the wall, my chest against hers, and looked deep into her eyes. Her hand clamped around my shoulder, bracing herself as she felt me hardening inside of her again.
“Dane,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering halfway close, feeling my length inside of her. “Dane—I—I just don’t know what to say,” she muttered out, as she felt me grow again.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I told her, pressing a kiss onto her neck then her collarbone. “I just needed to say it…out loud.”
Her head fell back into the tile, and a knocking sound echoed through the bathroom.
My hand wrapped around her breast, fondling it, flicking her nipple as I moved within her with one long, slow stroke.
“Say it again,” she whispered, as her palm tightened around my neck, anchoring herself in place.
A satisfied smirk spread across my lips.
I thrusted again, slower this time. “Say what?”
“Tell me that you love me,” she breathed. Her breath wavered as she said the words, unsteady and strained.
“Well, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” I laughed, thrusting deeper inside her again.
“Pl—please,” she all but begged.
A faint smile tugged at my lips—I’d thought I’d surrendered, a loss I’d been ready to accept. But the truth was, Belle had never wanted victory. She wanted me to take control.