Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(96)
Author: Kristen Ashley

His heart-stopping grin finally penetrated her panicked mind and her eyes narrowed.

“A legend?” she asked dubiously.

His hand in her hair maneuvered her mouth to his. “Aye, practically a legend.”

“Pren –” Elle started but he kissed her quiet.

Later, much later, when he stopped kissing her because she couldn’t bear it any longer but his hand was in her panties, his finger was in her and Elle was rocking against it and breathing heavily into his mouth, Prentice finished.

“Let’s see if we can take away the practically part.”

Elle nodded dazedly, thinking, equally dazedly, that he’d already managed that. Then she sucked in breath when his thumb found her, put on delicious pressure and swirled.

“Come for me so I can watch, baby,” he growled his order against her mouth.

Her h*ps ground into his hand, her fingers clutched his shoulders and Elle did as she was told.

* * * * *

Prentice

Even later (much later), Prentice slid out of Elle’s silken wetness.

Then he gave himself a moment to gaze down at her in his bed, her head to the side, her cheek to the pillow, her hair spread against it, her breath heavy, eyes closed, fingers still clenching the pillowcase.

He was kneeling between her legs, her sweet ass was in the air and, as his hand drifted over one smooth, curved cheek, he looked beside him.

She was still wearing those sexy, black, spike heels.

Jesus, he couldn’t believe it but the f**king sight of her ass, her shapely leg and her foot still wearing that sexy shoe made his still hard c**k jerk almost to ready again.

His hands guiding her gently, he shifted her to her side then, one by one, he unbuckled and took off her shoes, kissing her ankles as he did so, tossing the shoes aside, after which he joined her in bed.

Yanking the covers from under their bodies to over them, he pulled her in his arms.

She snuggled close.

He dipped his chin and into her hair, he murmured, “You’re a legend too.”

Her head came up and she looked into his eyes.

“I am?” she asked with what appeared to be genuine shock.

Even though he didn’t want the thoughts to intrude, not now, not after just having her, making her come twice and holding her in his arms, Prentice couldn’t help but feel the jealous anger, knowing, if it wasn’t for her f**king father and his own ego, he could have been her only lover.

Instead, she’d clearly had plenty of experience.

His voice was gruff when he replied, “You are.”

Her eyes drifted away as did her thoughts before she settled into him again and whispered sleepily, “That’s funny.”

His hand stroked her hair when he asked, “What?”

“What what?” Her voice was quieter, she was sliding into dreamland.

“What’s funny?” Prentice pressed, his hand halting its stroking, his arms going around her to give her a gentle squeeze to stop her from falling asleep.

“That you think I’m a legend.” She nestled closer. “Laurent thought I was frigid. I didn’t enjoy sex with him.” Her voice dropped lower when she finished, “At all.”

Prentice’s arms squeezed again, this time reflexively.

This made him inexplicably glad.

In fact, it f**king thrilled him.

Laurent Evangelista, renowned international playboy, apparently was shit in bed.

He’d have to be if Elle, who was the most responsive woman Prentice had ever had, didn’t respond to him.

That only meant one thing.

And Prentice knew he shouldn’t ask.

He knew it.

But he asked.

“And your other lovers?”

“My other lovers?” She, again, sounded drowsy.

“Did they think you were legend?”

She laughed and it too sounded sleepy.

“What’s funny?” Prentice enquired.

She cuddled closer, her arm sliding along his stomach to curl around his waist and she settled in, her weight getting heavy as she said, right before she fell asleep, her words stunning him solid, “There weren’t any. Just Laurent. And now… you.”

Prentice’s eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling.

He understood it was selfish, hearing this additional evidence of Elle’s loneliness, but he couldn’t deny what registered deep in his soul.

And he knew exactly what it was because he’d felt it many times before.

He felt it when he first met Elle.

He felt it when they were reunited after their first separation, when he saw her adorable, nervous stutter step while she was approaching him in Fergus’s driveway the second summer she came to Scotland.

He felt it again, only moments later, when she was in his arms and she said to him with such deep feeling, “Not as much as I missed you.”

He felt it when she agreed to marry him.

He felt it when he watched Fiona walk toward him down the aisle.

He felt it both times Fee told him she was pregnant and after both times she safely delivered a healthy child.

He felt it when he moved his family into the house he’d designed and built for them.

He felt it when he read the ridiculous good-bye note Elle left after the first night they shared together, a note that included a PS that there was coffee made and Danish at the ready.

He felt it when Sally woke up from her coma and recognized him instantly.

He felt it when Elle forgave him for his betrayal.

And he felt it now.

And that feeling was blessed.

Careful not to disturb her, Prentice rolled and turned off the light.

And, within seconds of pulling Elle close, Prentice joined her in a deep, dreamless, peaceful, sated, blessed sleep.

* * * * *

Fiona

Fiona woke up in her tent wondering when she’d get to go wherever she was going.

Her work was done.

And she was pretty damned satisfied with it if she did say so herself.

Therefore, she was kind of surprised she went back to her tent.

This couldn’t be it.

If Fiona existed, both her Nans and her Granda’ were somewhere out there and Fiona couldn’t imagine why she’d be kept from them. She couldn’t imagine eternity was alone.

Then again, it could be that horrible black place, so she probably shouldn’t complain.

She wandered out of her tent and stopped dead.

A man stood at the stream. He was wearing a white suit, he had thick white hair, a white goatee and a white string tie.

He looked like a thinner, younger Colonel Sanders of chicken fame, except his string tie wasn’t black and he wasn’t wearing glasses.

“Are you God?” she whispered, thinking it was kind of funny that God looked like Colonel Sanders.