His words poured over her and they felt like warm, clean, fragrant water.
“Pren –”
“Especially when you’re on your knees, your ass is in the air and my c**k is inside you.”
She felt her body heat and her legs started shifting restlessly as she repeated, “Pren –”
“And when it’s snug in my crotch,” he growled, “baby, the… fucking… best.”
She snuggled closer and brushed her lips against his, her hands moving, somewhat urgently, along his skin as her leg lifted and hooked around his hip.
His hand slid between her legs, he touched her wetness and her h*ps jerked before they swayed into his palm.
“There it is,” he muttered, his voice filled with masculine satisfaction, something else that sent heat through her system. “Proof you like it when I talk dirty.”
“You’re impossible,” she retorted, hearing her voice filled with feminine satisfaction mingled with laughter.
“No,” he whispered, his finger slid inside, she stopped laughing and gasped with pleasure against his mouth, “I’m greedy.”
Then he kissed her, his tongue sliding in her mouth, his finger moving in tandem with his tongue.
And he kissed her until Elle’s mind was in a fog and her h*ps rode his hand.
His mouth tore from hers and his lips slid to her ear as his finger stroked her. “I know I just had you, baby, but I want you again, this time, on your knees.”
She didn’t hesitate before saying, “Okay.”
His finger pressed deep as his voice rumbled, “Christ, I f**king love you.”
Elle wanted to respond but Prentice didn’t give her the chance.
His mouth took hers in another kiss then he took her on her knees and after, when he had her cuddled close to his warmth, she fell asleep before she remembered to tell that she loved him too.
Chapter Nineteen
Spooked
Fiona
Fiona floated, her arse close to the stool next to Jason’s, her ghostly eyes were pointed toward the kitchen.
She was avidly watching Prentice and Bella whilst Jason was avidly concentrating on what was on his breakfast plate and trying not to grin.
Sally was forking hash browns into her mouth, swinging her legs and humming to herself through a full mouth, completely oblivious.
Prentice had his h*ps to the counter, his jaw was tight and his hand was wrapped around a mug of hot coffee in a way that looked like his hand would rather be strangling someone.
The someone he’d rather be strangling was Bella, who was scrubbing a skillet like she wanted it to disappear under her ministrations.
They were having a tiff.
And it was hilarious as it always was and, lately, it had been happening a lot.
It had been over a month since they returned from Chicago. Fiona hadn’t been able to go but something happened there, something that had to do with Bella’s odious father and, whatever that something was, it flicked a switch on in Bella.
In the time after “The Kettle Incident” (as Fiona was calling it in her mind) and before they went to Chicago, Bella had been anxious. It was obvious and it was worrying not only because Fiona’s eternity hinged on Bella’s happiness but just because it was difficult to see Bella in that state.
Bella didn’t trust that her life could turn on a dime and, after all she’d endured, why would she?
After they came back from Chicago, Bella was changed. She seemed slightly more settled, more assured but still she was somewhat uncertain, nervous and hesitant.
With Prentice’s unwavering devotion (and it was indeed devotion, even if it was sometimes irritated devotion) and Sally and Jason’s too, Fiona watched Bella’s confidence grow then blossom and finally bloom.
But it bloomed out-of-control.
Bella of old was back with a vengeance.
And Fiona loved it.
Prentice, on the other hand, found it frustrating on occasion and on other occasions annoying and sometimes downright infuriating.
Fiona thought watching her family with Bella would be hard.
It wasn’t.
Seeing them happy and whole again was a gift. It was a weird gift but after watching more than a year of Prentice struggling and Jason grieving, it was definitely a gift and a treasured one too.
Now Fiona just had to practice on her “magic”, whatever the bloody hell that was, and after a month with Fiona intensely aware that time was sliding by, she had no more clue.
She also had no clue as to what danger threatened Bella. Her father, from what tidbits she heard Prentice and Bella murmuring about, was obviously out of the picture. And the entire family had become old news, there weren’t even photographers around the village anymore.
Apparently Isabella Austin Evangelista shacking up with an architect (an award-winning one at that) wasn’t a hot news item worthy of continued exploration.
It was, the photographers found, mostly Bella looking fantastic as always but not stepping out on the town. Instead, she was going grocery shopping, picking the kids up at school, chatting with villagers on the pavements and the like.
Boring.
To them.
But Bella was clearly having the time of her life.
“Kids, books,” Prentice ordered when he saw their plates clean.
Jason scurried off his stool, happy to get away from the heavy air in the kitchen so he could grin his father’s wicked grin somewhere where he wouldn’t be hit by the heat of Prentice’s irritated gaze which had happened before.
Jason, like his mother, thought Prentice and Bella’s fiery relationship was amusing. Likely because Fiona’s son wasn’t stupid and he sensed that there couldn’t be anger without love. If you didn’t care about someone, you wouldn’t care enough to fight with them.
Fortunately for Jason, (unfortunately for Fiona but she was working through it), he didn’t realize their volatility had a whole hell of a lot to do with passion too.
Which Prentice and Bella also obviously had, in abundance.
Sally didn’t move so quickly.
“Elly Belly?” she called. “Can you give me a manicure after school?”
“I gave you one yesterday, sweetie,” Bella answered, still scrubbing the skillet which was, Fiona thought it important to note, thoroughly clean and had been for the last five minutes.
“Can you teach me guitar?” Sally went on.
“The guitar’s too big for you still, Sally. Like I said before, give it a year or so and we’ll start.”
“Can we have your apple caramel-umble for pudding tonight?” Sally pressed. Apple caramel-umble was the name Sally had given the pudding Bella had made the week before. It was supposed to be a crumble but she’d been distracted by her boxes arriving and she was unpacking at the same time she was getting the Christmas decorations out therefore she accidentally doubled the brown sugar and the butter so it ended up a gooey, caramelized mess which the children had adored.