She immediately lifted her other foot to him while using both hands to lift her hair up at the nape of her neck then she plopped back onto the bed, throwing her arms wide. Her long hair splayed on the bed around her and his mind took that opportunity to consider what Isabella, and her hair, would look like, and feel like, if she was underneath him.
Naked underneath him.
His mind moved swiftly away from that delightful mental image, his gaze moved away from the equally delightful vision of Isabella on her back on the bed, his hand curved around her heel and he went for the other strap.
“Annie’s so happy,” she whispered wistfully and at her words Prentice’s eyes sliced back to her. Her gaze was as wistful as her tone and it was on him. “All these years. I never thought I’d see it, Pren.”
This time, his gut tightened.
No one called him Pren but Elle. His mother hadn’t allowed his name to be shortened when he was a lad and Prentice just stuck.
But he (and his mother) let Isabella call him Pren.
And she hadn’t called him Pren since their last night together.
In a flash, the memory came from somewhere deep and it was as clear as if it happened only yesterday.
They were in his car when he brought her back to Fergus’s after dinner and drinks. It was late, it was dark, she was across the seat, her back to his thighs, her arms around his neck, his hands in her shirt and they were kissing.
He’d never made love to her. They’d done almost everything else but she’d been a virgin and he’d decided, if she’d lasted twenty years, she could last until he had a ring on her finger.
She hadn’t decided that. Isabella made it clear she was ready to give herself to him when he was ready to take her.
But Prentice had thought at the time that he could wait until he gave her his name as his gift to bear the rest of her life and only then would she give him her virginity as hers.
The next day she was going to the airport to get her father and spending the day with him. The night after that, she was going to make dinner for Prentice and her father.
They never made it that far. Prentice had received the summons from Carver Austin to appear at Fergus’s the morning after he arrived.
He had no idea that would be the last time he would hold her in his arms. If he had, at the time, he wouldn’t have taken her back to Fergus’s.
He would have driven her to the ends of the earth.
He’d stopped kissing her before it got too heavy (or, to the point of no return as it already was heavy) and muttered, “You have to go.”
She looked adorably disappointed before she sighed, “I have to go.”
Prentice grinned at her, put his forehead to hers and whispered, “Love you, baby.”
She closed her eyes, her hand coming to his neck, she squeezed, opened her eyes and said, “Love you too, Pren.”
Then she’d touched her mouth to his and exited the car, blowing a kiss at him through the window before running gracefully up the steps. Then she stopped, turned to him, waved wildly and blew him another kiss.
He’d waited until the door closed behind her.
That was the last time anyone had called him Pren.
Until now.
And that was the last time he saw his Elle.
Until now.
Yes, he definitely needed to get the f**k out of there.
He freed the strap, slipped the shoe off her foot and dropped it to the floor.
Before he could move, she was up, moving lithely, standing in front of him and she slapped her hands on his chest so hard, it stung.
This surprised him.
It surprised him enough that he didn’t move.
What she did next would surprise him more.
She leaned in, her bodyweight resting against his, her hands sliding up so her fingers could curl on his shoulders and the sting disappeared instantly and another feeling altogether stole through him.
Face tipped to his, she breathed, “Can you believe? Annie and Dougal. Mikey’s so right. It is a fairytale come true.”
Prentice noticed at once that she smelled of fruit.
Any other drunken person smelled unpleasantly drunk. Only Elle could smell like fruit when she was smashed.
And the smell was intoxicating.
“What have you been drinking?” he asked, his hands going to her h*ps for the sake of comfort and finding far more than comfort when his fingers curled into her soft flesh.
“Lemon, lime cordial and vodka,” she answered. “Annie introduced me to them and they’re great. They taste like candy.”
“Aye, but candy can’t get you pissed.”
She squeezed his shoulders and exclaimed, “You’ve got that right!” Then she giggled.
Before he could process his more than pleasant reaction to her giggling while pressed against him, her hands slid from his shoulders to around his neck, she went up on tiptoe and pressed her soft body to his, giving him a tight hug.
“Two days, Pren,” she whispered in his ear. “Two days and Annie and Dougal are finally going to be married.” Her arms tightened, her head turned and he could feel her lips against his neck and he liked it, too much. “Twenty years and, finally, they’re happy.”
She held onto him and his arms slid around her, holding her close.
This was the woman he fell in love with.
Twenty years and he again had her in his arms.
Fucking hell.
His chest got tight and his arms got tighter even though he didn’t will them to do so and, in turn, she gave him a squeeze.
“Elle –” he started, having no f**king clue what he intended to say but all of a sudden she tore out of his arms.
Then he stared as she whipped her t-shirt off, exposing the camisole underneath.
She threw it over his shoulder and smiled at him brightly. “I’m so happy!”
Before he could say a word, she twirled around and crawled into bed on all fours, her ass in those tight jeans on dazzling display in front of him for a moment before she collapsed on her side, back to him.
She curled her knees into her belly, burrowed her head in the pillow and whispered, “I won’t have any trouble sleeping tonight.”
He should have left.
He really should have left.
He didn’t leave.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the soft, heavy hair away from her neck before he curled his fingers there.
“Do you normally have trouble sleeping?” he muttered, unable to use a stronger voice as her head had tilted and her shoulder flexed to hold his hand captive.
He found this gesture so appealing it didn’t feel like a weight in his gut.
Instead it sent a sweet warmth throughout his system.