Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(79)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Then further down.

Then further.

His hands gathered her hair and pulled it back just in time to watch Elle slide his c**k into her mouth.

Then he watched as Elle, in her sexy, satin and lace nightie worked him.

Slow.

It was magnificent.

* * * * *

He lost her.

And Prentice knew it was the f**king photographers.

He’d had her. She was back.

Entirely.

Then she slid away.

And, as the day progressed, she retreated more and more until he lost her.

They were late leaving the guest suite because, after Elle took care of Prentice with her mouth, Prentice took care of Elle in the shower with his fingers.

Then, considering she smelled like lilies of the valley, she looked so f**king sexy with her hair wet and he hadn’t had his c**k inside her for over twenty-four hours, he took care of both of them in the bed.

She’d been collapsed on top of him, her face in his neck, her breath had slowed, her bodyweight fully relaxed and heavy on him, his c**k still hard and imbedded in her wetness, when she suddenly jerked up.

She stared at him in panic and shrieked, “Pancakes!”

Then in a flurry of movement, she exited the bed and ran around the room, pulling on underwear (which was, he noted, rolling to his side and watching her, just as sexy as her nighties), then spritzing with perfume, then yanking on a t-shirt.

She was hopping around trying to get in her jeans when her eyes hit him.

“Pren, what are you doing?” she demanded to know.

“I’m enjoying the show,” he replied.

Her eyes narrowed as she pulled her jeans over her hips. “Get up.”

“In a minute.”

She zipped her jeans and buttoned them while saying, “We have to make pancakes and Jace has a soccer game we have to get to.”

She called his son “Jace”.

He liked that.

“We’ve got time.”

She grabbed her deodorant and shoved it under her t-shirt, “No we don’t. Look at the clock! Get up!”

She finished with the deodorant, slammed it onto the bureau then ran into the bathroom.

Prentice adjusted his position so he could watch her squirt something in her palm, rub it in her hair and then she yanked a comb through its length with agitated movements.

She exited the bathroom muttering, “I’m not going to have time for makeup.”

Good, he thought, she looked far more beautiful without that veneer.

She spied him still in bed.

“Pren –”

“Come here,” he murmured.

Her face went dazed upon hearing his soft command.

Unfortunately, only for a moment.

Then her brows snapped together, she nabbed his jeans from the floor and snapped, “Get…” she threw his jeans at him and finished, “up!”

Then she ran from the room.

He rolled to his back, sat up and surveyed the room.

Her journals, jars and bottles were tidy on the nightstand.

However, the bed was unmade, their discarded towels from that morning and clothes from last night littered the floor and he could see from his place in the bed that she’d left the container of whatever she used on her hair uncapped and sitting on the sink beside her comb, which she also didn’t put away.

He grinned to himself and got up.

She made pancakes whilst running back and forth to the guest suite. First, to put on makeup (much to Prentice’s displeasure, however, it was light as that was, as she explained in mutterings to herself, all she had time for) then to do something with her hair (she left it long and loose but dried it) and then to add jewelry and a belt to her outfit of fitted, long sleeve t-shirt, jeans and high-heeled boots.

Then she tidied the kitchen whilst running up and down the stairs. First, to help Sally dress. Then to show Jason where his football kit was as he couldn’t find it because Elle had actually put it away, something that hadn’t occurred since Fiona died as Jason was responsible for putting away his clean clothes on the occasion that Prentice cleaned them and Jason never did. Then she had to calm Sally’s fears because Blackie had taken a tumble whilst leaping from bed to bureau. Sally was convinced the cat had to go to the “Kitty Doctor” even though Blackie seemed no worse for her fall and was racing around the house like she was being chased by something very frightening and very fast.

As Prentice led them out to the Range Rover, Elle pulled on a thick knit, heavy, open front cardigan with a wide lapel and hood at the back that looked, even with Prentice’s very limited knowledge of fashion, like it cost a fortune.

The cardigan had the annoying effect of instantly changing her from Elle to Isabella Evangelista and Prentice didn’t like it.

That was until she buckled in beside him.

Even belted in, she fidgeted. If she wasn’t fidgeting, she was twisting around to answer Sally’s incessant questions and to ask Jason if he remembered this or that or half a dozen other things. Then she scooped up her hair and twisted it in a messy knot at the top, back of her head. She didn’t do a stellar job with this, spikes shot out around the holder and tendrils fell down her neck.

She looked adorable.

And she looked like Elle.

Prentice relaxed.

Elle kept fidgeting.

They were standing by the field watching Jason’s game when it happened.

He had his arm around her shoulders. Her arm had slid around his waist and she’d rested her weight against his body. Sally had stopped racing around with the other kids and was leaning against Prentice’s leg, her arm wrapped around his thigh.

“You know, I have no idea what’s happening,” Elle whispered.

He looked down at her. She was gazing at the pitch, her eyes focused on something but moving and he knew she was watching Jason.

He smiled.

“Do you no’?” he asked.

She shook her head.

He squeezed her shoulder and her head tipped back to look at him.

“I’ve never been a sports person,” she admitted.

He bent his head and touched his lips to hers before he murmured, “I’ll teach you.”

She smiled and it lit up her eyes.

No, it lit her entire face.

Prentice felt her smile hit him with the force of an oncoming lorry before her gaze drifted over his shoulder.

Then her smile died and her body stilled.

She started to pull away.

His arm tensed and he looked over his shoulder. There were two photographers on the other side of the pitch, the lenses of both of their cameras trained on Elle, Sally and him. You didn’t have to be close to know they were snapping shots.