“Yes.”
“Then you better start looking into charities you want to patronize, baby. I don’t think you’ll have a lot of use for your millions in the wilds of Scotland,” Prentice advised.
He heard her pull in a soft breath but she didn’t respond.
He stopped her by the bed and found the tie on her robe.
“Where’s Evangelista’s money?” he asked softly, yanking on the tie before he lifted his hands and slid the robe from her shoulders.
“I used all of it to build and endow two orphanages, one in Vietnam and the other in Ethiopia,” she whispered.
His hands had stilled in the act of closing around her waist to pull her with him into bed.
His voice was gruff when he stated, “I don’t think I heard about that.”
“You wouldn’t,” she said softly. “No one knows but Dad. I did it anonymously.”
Christ, but he loved her.
One arm slid around her waist, the other hand went to her neck and he fell back to the bed, taking her with him,
Her weight landed on him and he rolled instantly, covering her soft body with his.
“I’m no’ sure what you expect, Elle,” he said against her neck. “But we should get something straight.”
Her hands were gliding around to his back but her touch was tentative.
“What?” she asked, her tone just as tentative.
His head came up, he looked at her in the dark and answered, “When I told you I would take care of you, that’s what I meant.” His hand drifted up to her jaw, his thumb moving across her cheekbone and his voice went soft when he continued, “You live in my house, I pay for the food that goes in your belly, I buy your drinks at the pub, I fill your car with petrol, I put clothes on your back –”
“Pren –” she whispered.
“I’m no’ telling you what to do,” he informed her. “You want to work, make your own money, contribute something to the household, do it. You don’t want to work and you want something, it’s your money, get it. You want to do something special for the kids, though, we talk about it first. I don’t want them spoiled.” His hand tensed on her jaw and he asked, “Are we agreed?”
“What if I want to do something special for you?” she whispered, her arms were wrapped around him now and they weren’t tentative, they were holding on tight.
His mouth found hers in the dark and he kissed her softly before his lips glided to her jaw then to her ear.
“In about five minutes, baby, you’re going to do something special for me,” he murmured there.
“What’s that?” she breathed, her hands had started roaming whisper-soft against the skin of his back and he felt his c**k start to grow hard at her touch.
He didn’t answer her question.
Instead, he slid his lips and his tongue down her neck and along her collarbone.
At the base of her throat, he stated, “Outside of you baking your oatmeal cookies every once in awhile, anything special I want from you will have the same theme.”
Her fingers slid into his hair, her other hand moved around his waist, across his stomach and down.
When she pressed her hand into his pajamas and wrapped her fingers tight around his cock, his mouth found hers and he muttered, “You guessed it.”
“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.”