Belle immediately fell in love with Mel and Molly. They spent most of the day out shopping—at the expense of their brother, of course. They hit all the stores that had his card on file, and the second Belle mentioned she was his girlfriend, the women attendants were more than happy to help find her some cute and sexy outfits for one of their favorite clients.

At first, she hated it, wondering how many other women the twins took shopping on Greyson’s behalf. After the first store, she voiced her concerns, and Mel and Molly cackled.

“Oh, Belle,” Mel said and hugged her close, “you’re the only one we’ve ever liked. Actually, you’re the only one we’ve ever met.”

“Really? But I thought he had a girlfriend… a long time ago,” she wondered.

“He did,” Molly said, “but we never met her. That was when he wasn’t talking to any of us.”

“When did that happen? He acts like he loves you,” she said as they strolled into another store. Belle was so caught up with getting to know more about the man she was falling for, she didn’t even notice the name of the store.

Mel and Molly nodded in unison. “He does,” Molly said. “But Dad’s death hit him really hard. He felt guilty, and it tore him up. He was worried he’d hurt us too, so he pushed us out of his life for a few years.”

“Then that girl tore his heart out and stomped on it,” Mel snapped. “He broke down, called Mom, and let us back in, for the most part.”

They pulled Belle to a stop as a woman walked over to them wearing a slinky dress. “Ladies, good to see you again.”

“Likewise, Tiff,” Mel said.

“You two come here often?” Belle asked as she glanced around and felt a wave of heat wash over her body. “Oh my God, what type of store are we in?”

Everywhere she looked, there were mannequins wearing sexy lingerie—pieces she had never even considered wearing. A wall towards the back of the store was labeled ‘bondage’ and another one beside it advertising 'Pleasure for Her.'

“You are in one of the top-of-the-line lingerie stores,” Molly told her happily.

“After we heard your partial tryst this morning, we thought you two might want some… assistance,” Mel said after a second. “Ready?”

“Ready? Ready for what? Your brother is too worried about my broken wrist to do anything,” she told them, leaving out the other reasons he wouldn’t give in. He wanted to. The erection in his pants could not be hidden, though when she felt his size, it did worry her slightly wondering how… it… would… well, fit. Just thinking about it brought another hot wave of embarrassment over her.

“Belle,” Molly whispered in her ear, “it’s okay to be nervous. We were all virgins once upon a time.”

She flinched. “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to,” Tiff said with a delightful smile. “I do love helping the newest ones find their deepest desires. Come along, ladies, time to shop!”

They dragged her further into the store, and Belle walked out two hours later carrying three bags filled with items she wasn’t even sure how to use. The skimpy, red lingerie they finally agreed on was insanely hot. She tried it on and stared at herself in the mirror for a long time. She’d really never paid attention to her body, and having it wrapped so delicately in the lace made her feel sexy for the first time in her life. That morning, all she’d had on was her nightgown, and Greyson had almost lost it. If he saw her in the red number, he’d never be able to resist her.

Carrie met them at the house around seven, and Mel and Molly quickly became friends with her, too, as they dug into Greyson’s wine cellar. They ordered pizza and Chinese takeout, turning the living room into one giant bed with sleeping bags, comforters, and pillows. For the first time, Belle had what essentially turned into a grown-up slumber party.

“So,” Carrie said after they’d gone through four bottles of wine, maybe more. “What’s the deal with you and Mister Brute?”

Mel giggled and leaned against Carrie’s shoulder. “Mister Brute, I love it.”

Belle watched as Carrie rested her hand on Mel’s knee and raised a brow. Maybe there were things she didn’t know about her friend after all. She smiled and nudged Molly, nodding towards the two giggling girls.

“Well, lookie there.” Molly snickered. “Maybe we should be asking you two the same thing.”

“Whatever,” Carrie brushed them off. “We’re not part of the discussion here, Belle is. Give us the dirty—have you two done it yet? And I hope you say you have, holed up in here together for what, three weeks now?”

Belle fiddled with the fried rice she held and shrugged. “About that—”

“You two still haven’t had sex!” Carrie yelled, and Belle glared at her. “I’m sorry, it’s just surprising, broken wrist or not.”

“That’s what he keeps saying,” she muttered and exchanged the rice for a glass of wine. “I keep trying, and we keep getting so close, but he holds back like he’s scared or something. He even forgot Valentine’s Day.” She remembered waking that morning and thinking he’d have done something for her, but nothing. No card, no roses, not a damn thing to say he even knew what day it was.

Mel’s eyes narrowed on her face. “Are you scared?”

She gulped the whole glass of wine and poured another. “I’m nervous, but who wouldn’t be? And he’s larger than I expected—you know, down there,” she added and stared at her own groin. Then she remembered these were Greyson’s sisters and was about to apologize when they cackled in unison.

“You just have to go for it,” Molly told her, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “Really, both of you are holding back. You can blame it on him all you want,” she said, holding up her hands when Belle started to argue, “I’m just pointing it out. Even now, you look apprehensive.”

“Sex is a big deal for me,” she muttered. “I don’t want it to be just a one-time thing.”

“And he knows that?”

Belle glanced at Mel and nodded. “You said it yourself, he pulls away from people. I want a commitment, and he… I don’t know if he’s on board for that yet.”

“I don’t know if you are either,” Carrie told her and reached across the pillows to hold her hand. “I’ve never seen you commit to anything besides school and your jobs. I’m the only friend you’ve made—ever—who’s actually lasted.”

“Thanks for making me feel like a psycho,” Belle grumbled, but Mel and Molly tackled her and Carrie followed. They laughed together, and it soon dissolved into a drunken pillow fight as they yelled and shrieked at each other. The stress of the past few weeks fell away, and Belle let herself forget about what might happen with her and Greyson. That was a problem for another day.

A day when she was ready to face her own fears of a committed relationship. When she was ready to stop being afraid, period, of what the future held if she failed.

* * *

Greyson shot back his whiskey and held up his hand for the bartender to pour him another.

“Man, you’re not driving,” Tim said and dug in Greyson’s slacks for his keys. When his friend protested, he smacked his hand away. “That’s your sixth whiskey. Not happening.”

“Fine, whatever,” he grumbled, and when his whiskey was set down, he drained that glass, too.

“What’s gotten into you?” Davis asked with a laugh. “Wait, don’t tell me, you and Belle are having issues. Is that it? What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, and that, my friend, is the damn problem,” he said, the words slurring as he spoke. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, or thinking, not anymore. Not when it comes to that spitfire of a woman who’s driving me crazy!”

Davis and Tim exchanged a glance before the latter laughed darkly. “The mighty womanizer brought to his knees by his intern. I’m impressed. I knew Belle was tough, but damn, if she’s got you all twisted up in knots, she’s really under your skin.”

“So why the celibacy?” Davis asked. “You like her, right? Or did you just feel the need to have a roommate?”

“I do like her,” Greyson said with an exaggerated sigh and rested his arms on the bar. “Think I might actually love her.”

He held his head in his hands and heard his friends whispering behind his back. Not that he cared. He couldn’t even begin to explain what restraint kept him from making that final move. He wanted her so bad it ached, every muscle screaming to hold her, touch her, be with her, but still his mind resisted the idea for one reason or another, and none of them were valid.

Tim patted him on the back, and Greyson straightened, glancing through bleary eyes at them both. “You need to stop being scared, seriously.”

“I can’t help it,” he told them, and in a voice barely above a whisper added, “She’s a damn virgin. And she’s not like the rest! I’m terrified of this going south, of breaking her heart. It’s giving me nightmares. I can’t even think straight when she’s around.”

“Then what’s the problem? You like her, and clearly she likes you or she wouldn’t be hanging around,” Davis told him.

“I think, sometimes, that she hates me,” he stammered and called for another whiskey. The bartender eyed him until Tim said he wasn’t driving. “I forgot Valentine’s Day, guys. What boyfriend does that?”

Davis cringed and Tim hung his head. “You never forget that day,” the first said. “But you can still make it up to her.”

“How?”

“We’ll swing by the florist on the way home tonight, or somewhere that’s open,” Tim assured him. “You can get her some belated flowers.”

“That’s not going to make up for how I’ve been acting,” he said and swallowed the next glass of whiskey slower. “I want her to be with me. I want this to work.”

“Then you have to be the Greyson Taylor we all know and love,” Davis said sternly and set his glass down heavily. “Be assertive, be the man she needs to take care of her.”

“Funny story,” Greyson said, holding up a finger. “She hates being taken care of.”

Tim shook his head. “She’s not used to it. She's told me a bit about her past. She’s had to fight tooth and nail for everything, so show her what you could do for her—really do for her—if you were fully committed.”

Slowly, Greyson nodded and held up his glass to Tim in toast. “You’re right. You’re freaking right. I’m Greyson Taylor, and spitfire or not, that woman just met her match.” He shot back the whiskey, slammed his glass down, and strode for the door.

“Uh… Grey? Where are you going?” Davis called out.

“Leaving to get flowers, why?”

Tim and Davis rushed to grab his arms right before he hit the door and turned him around. “That’s the women’s restroom. Why don’t we go this way instead?”

Greyson whispered an ‘oh’ of surprise, and they laughed, guiding him out. As Tim promised, they stopped by the nearest store still open and Greyson purchased a single, long stemmed red rose for his Belle. He grinned as the florist tied a red ribbon around the stem. His Belle. That’s exactly who she was.

Tim drove Greyson to his house while Davis followed in his Mustang. His friends asked if he wanted any more company, but he said his sisters were in town and he wasn’t sure what the house would be like. They left him, both giving him encouraging thumbs-up before Tim drove away, and Greyson fumbled with his keys and the rose. He cursed when he almost dropped it, but caught it at the last second, blowing out a breath of relief.

Once he was finally inside, he found his living room turned into a bedroom and laughed quietly. His sisters were passed out alongside Carrie and Belle. His Belle. Takeout containers, pizza boxes, and many empty wine bottles littered the tables, but he didn’t care. Belle grinned in her sleep, and it warmed him to see her so content. He noticed the shopping bags near the counter and a note was taped to the wall above them with his name on it. Mel and Molly informed him of their shopping spree and how much they’d spent. At first, he’d grumbled, but then he read it was all for her, things he would’ve bought for her eventually anyway, so he told himself to remember to thank them in the morning.

Greyson tiptoed around the room, and when he reached Belle’s pillow, he laid the rose gently beside her face so she’d see it when she woke. For a moment, he simply stood there and watched her sleep before he maneuvered to his room, kicked off his shoes, climbed into bed, and passed out.