Belle moaned as Adam removed his fingers from the soft place between her legs. He felt her lips graze his neck as she bit and teased his earlobe. He wondered if all women knew instinctively how to kiss a man in such a way as to make him desire her. Was it something they were born with? Some God-given blessing or hell-wrought curse?

The turmoil he felt inside was unlike anything he'd ever felt as a beast. Then, without the possibility of this, he'd had at least some semblance of peace. Oh, he'd passed many nights with dreams and fantasies of her soft caresses. But when there was no hope of fulfillment, he could face her at ease. When he was yet a beast, dreams remained dreams, and fantasies were only that. Now, as a man, he felt less certain than ever before.

Had he been honest with Belle?

He had never had a woman come to him like this. Never before had a woman chased him. Always he had chased, thrilled in the hunt. Women came to him because of his wealth and status and handsome face. They came seeking him out as a husband and bedded him hoping to find his favor. They bedded him as a pawn in a game of politics and intrigue. He did not mind, so long as his own pleasure was found. He had never, in all of his life, heard the word no said to him. Was that enough to ease his conscience?

What once had seemed so clear was now so muddy and dark.

And could he give her what she deserved? Or would she be sullied by the politics of the French court. She was strong enough, or so it seemed, not to care.

They slipped quietly through the halls, not speaking. Adam could feel Belle's beautiful, watchful gaze. The air between them crackled with unspoken excitement.

Soon enough, they found themselves in Belle's bedchambers. The tower was taller, the room itself closer. Belle closed and locked the door, and Adam caged her in his arms.

"What now, love," she whispered, excitement and something else tinging her voice.

"Now," he answered. "Now, we move very slowly." He laid one arm on her shoulder and gently pushed aside the collar of her dress, kissing the smooth, sweet place where her neck curved into her shoulder. "Now I kiss you." He kissed her jaw. "Now I touch you." He stroked one finger, feather-light down her other arm. "Now you tell me what you need." He kissed her lips.

Belle shook her head at him slightly. "I haven't the vaguest clue what I need. Only that I like what you are doing now. And I liked what you did in the library."

"Then you must tell me when you like what I do. And tell me when you do not like what I do. I beg you, be honest with me always. Tell me when you do not like what I do and I will stop." He continued to kiss her then. Belle placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back slightly.

"No?" he asked.

"Well," she answered. "I think all these clothes might get in the way," she said with a smile.

"Ah," he responded. "Yes, I much prefer kissing you in your undergarments." He smiled softly at her, remembering that moment upon waking, and seeing her there. She had been brilliant and beautiful, and very nearly naked. "You have no idea how much that picture torments me in my sleep," he husked.

"Oh dear!" she responded. "Is it that bad?" She looked at him, her eyes wide. Adam felt a pit in his gut.

"Oh no, love, I didn't mean…" Why was he so bad with words now? Why now, when poetry was needed, did only folly come out? But Belle only laughed at him, kissing him through her laughter.

"I know what you meant. I could feel your desire when you held me in the morning. God, I could feel your desire when you kissed me in the rain." She looked at him gently then, stroking his hair, loosing the double curls he wore at the sides of his hair.

"I loathe these," she whispered. "I know they are fashionable and proper and you cannot wear your hair loose when you are out of doors, but I like your hair loose." Belle reached back and untied the bow at the nape of his neck. "And I loathe this," she continued, stroking his hair around his shoulders. "You look old and stiff and entirely too proper with it."

"Too proper?" Adam asked. He was unsure whether to be amused or offended. Belle began pushing him backwards toward her bed as she loosed his cravat and began unbuttoning his waistcoat.

"Very, very proper. Madame du Garderobe keeps trying to stuff me into stiff, fancy dresses with corsets made for tiny waists and layers upon layers upon god-forsaken layers of skirts." She looked at him very seriously. "You'll never be able to reach me under all those skirts."

"That would never do! Shall I have a word with her?" Adam teased, straddling Belle on his lap as they sat upon the edge of her bed.

"Oh, I think I'm holding my own," she responded lightly, loosening her own dress and pulling it over her head. "Stays and bloomers, see?" She said proudly. Something feral and wicked rose up in Adam's chest and for a moment he thought his Beast might burst forth again he emitted a deep growl that sounded more animal than man. He felt Belle shiver in his arms.

"I like when you do that," she admitted.

"Do what?" he asked. "This?" he growled again, nipping gently at her earlobe, feeling her shudder in his arms as she took a deep, shaky breath. Something occurred to him then, something new and strange. "You liked me then." He pulled back and looked at her eyes, now glazed with desire. "Loved me, even."

"I did," she answered. "I like you better now," she said quickly, but paused. "But sometimes, something of the beast I knew is still there. It excites me in a way I never thought possible. It's very strange and rather unnerving. After all, we couldn't have done this. But you are still wild, sometimes, and it is exciting."

Adam let that sink in.

"What do I do now?" he asked softly, as he moved them further to the center of the bed and lay Belle down among the pillows and blankets. He began to softly trace circles on her ankles, moving slowly up her calves. He felt emboldened by her soft moans of pleasure and began to replace his fingers with his lips as he reached her thighs.

Belle nearly leapt off the bed as he began to untie her drawers and kiss the milky white skin of her thighs.

"Do you not like that?" he asked in a deep, husky voice. She moaned and threw her head back down.

"You've got too many clothes on," she complained. He quickly rid himself of all but his own soft underbreeches and shirt. "Still too much," she said, reaching to remove his shirt.

"Can I go back to kissing you, now?" he asked, teasingly. Belle nodded, and Adam started higher this time, beginning with her beautiful pale shoulders, and loosening her stays to free her beautiful bosom as he moved down her body.

His fingers skimmed over her hips and thighs while his lips kissed and teased her beautiful, soft breasts. He was beguiled by her moans of ecstasy, even as he held back his own pleasure. He kissed and nipped and caressed his way softly down to the place where her legs parted.

"May I try something?" he asked very softly. Belle whispered her assent. "It is what a woman does for a man. I am not sure the pleasure works in reverse, but everything else seems to be working. Please tell me if it does not feel right." Belle nodded vigorously, and Adam could feel her stomach trembling under his fingertips. He slowly removed her drawers and parted her curls with his long, tapered fingers.

Very gently, praying he did not hurt her, he slipped one finger inside her slick folds and brushed aside the soft curls so he could kiss and lick and tease the soft, tender center of her. She cried out, and he stilled.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, softly.

"No," she cried. "God, no. Please don't stop." So he continued as he had before, using her thrusts and moans as his guide until he felt her tense around him, clenching his finger. She cried out and grabbed a hold of him and he stopped at once.

"Belle?" He felt her pulling him upwards toward her and he went willingly. "Belle?" he asked again. There were tears in her eyes and her breath came in sharp unsteady pants. She seemed unable to speak, but only let out sharp cries when she tried. He wiped the moisture from his hands on the sheets before brushing his fingers over her cheeks.

"Oh god," she said at last, shuddering against him. He realized with some deep primal contentment that pleasure for a woman was exactly like it was for a man. He groaned with pleasure and need and feral satisfaction as he held her.

Pride was a sin. One of the deadliest, he knew. He'd been punished for it before. But surely a little pride right now wouldn't go amiss?