Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(127)

“You’re impossible,” she whispered as she stroked.

He didn’t answer; he was too busy growling into her mouth.

Her thumb found the tip, circled and it felt so f**king good, Prentice bucked his h*ps into her hand.

Her soft words took his mind off her hand when she said, “You took care of me.”

As good as her hand felt, he wanted to stop and hold her. He wanted to do whatever it took to assure her.

But he decided not to make a big deal about it and hope she got the point.

“Aye,” he replied, his lips moving against hers. “Always, Elle.”

She stroked again, his mouth took hers in a kiss, his tongue sliding inside, tasting her then dueling with hers as she started to move agitatedly under him, his kiss, as usual, getting her excited, her hand automatically stroking faster.

Her mouth broke from his and her head lifted, her tongue sliding down his neck.

“You know that, don’t you, baby?” he asked at her ear when her lips hit his shoulder.

“I didn’t,” she answered against his skin. Pushing him back, she rolled into his side, her hand never ceasing its beautiful work, her head coming up and he felt her eyes on his face before she finished quietly, “I do now.”

His arms crushed around her, holding her tight.

“Can we stop talking now?” she whispered in his ear as her hand kept at its sweet torture. “I want you in my mouth. I can’t talk when you’re in my mouth and I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if you were talking.”

He tried to hold back laughter but this effort shook his entire body.

Her head came back up and he felt her eyes on his face again.

He also felt their heat.

“Are you laughing?” she asked, her voice sounding irate, her hand ceasing its stroking but holding on tight.

“Aye, baby, I’m laughing. What I’m no’ going to be doing is talking.”

It wasn’t in his catalogue of things he wanted to do with Elle (or, in this instance, what he wanted Elle to do to him), and he could only describe it as “interesting” when her mouth took him inside while she was giggling.

But he also wasn’t complaining.

* * * * *

Elle

“Pren?” Elle called quietly.

They’d made love and he was holding her, her back to his front, their legs tangled, their fingers laced and lying on the pillow in front of her.

“Aye, baby,” Prentice answered, his words stirring her hair.

“Why did you read my journals?”

His fingers tightened in hers a moment before they relaxed and he sighed.

“I needed to find a way to get through,” he replied.

“Those thoughts are private,” she whispered. “Or they were.”

She didn’t know what to feel about him invading her privacy. It didn’t feel good, it didn’t exactly feel bad. She wasn’t angry, considering the fact that he’d just turned down fifty-four million dollars to be with her, but she was something.

“Aye, they are,” he agreed. “But you were keeping yourself from me and I didn’t understand why. I can’t say I’m proud of doing it but I can say I would do it again.” He pressed closer and went on, “I’d have done anything, Elle, to make you mine again.”

Okay, now it definitely didn’t feel bad.

Still.

“Did you read them all?” she asked.

“Parts of them, yes,” he answered honestly.

She closed her eyes and his fingers tightened in hers again.

“You wore my ring,” he murmured, his voice suddenly hoarse.

Her stomach clutched and her heart skipped.

“Pren –”

His voice was still thick when he continued, “Twenty years and you kept it with you.”

Elle was silent, partly because she didn’t know what to say, vaguely embarrassed that he knew she’d pined for him for twenty years. And partly because she was holding her breath and wasn’t physically able to speak.

Prentice didn’t have the same problem.

“I can’t say I’m proud of the way I treated you when you came back. What I can say is that I wouldn’t have behaved that way if you didn’t mean anything to me.”

Elle had to admit, this made sense.

And even though it felt good, really good, to know she still meant something to him, especially as she’d held him so close to her heart all those years, it didn’t help her breathing in any way.

Prentice kept on sharing, “I tried to forget you, Elle, but I never did. I told myself I’d moved on but I didn’t.”

She felt the tears sting her eyes, the wetness sliding out the sides.

He shifted their laced fingers so they were tight against her chest and she felt his face burrow in her hair.

“I still have your things,” he confessed, she felt herself go still and her eyes go dry.

“My things?” she whispered.

“Everything you ever gave me, every gift, every letter. Fee never knew I kept them; I didn’t want her to know. I felt guilty that I kept it from her but I couldn’t let them go.” He pulled in breath again and sighed into her hair before continuing, “I didn’t understand at the time, didn’t let myself think of it. But now I realize it’s because her knowing would hurt her and I didn’t want to do that. But also, they were mine. I didn’t want to let them go and I didn’t want to share with anyone, even Fee, that I couldn’t.” When Elle laid still and silent, Prentice finished, “They’re in a box in Mum’s loft.”