But, in the end, that path led home.
Elle finished her drink, they climbed in Harry’s taxi and Harry took them home.
He walked through the great room, turning off the lamp by the couch on his way, and went into the kitchen. He came up behind Elle who was raiding the cookie jar and circled her waist, his hand sliding across her belly as he pressed against her back, feeling her ass against his thighs and liking it.
“You want a cookie?” Elle asked, mouth full, her neck twisting so she could look at him.
“No,” he replied.
He loved her cookies, he’d never tasted better.
But, at that moment, his mouth went someplace his tongue preferred to taste.
And as he ran it the length of her neck from the join of her shoulder to her ear, his body absorbed her tremble.
“We’re not ha**ng s*x tonight,” she declared in a breathy voice.
There it was, the ridiculous decision.
“We’re no’?” he asked her neck as his hand slid up her midriff.
“No. No more sex,” she replied, her voice even breathier.
“Why no’?” he asked before he nipped her earlobe with his teeth.
Another tremble.
He grinned against her ear.
“It’s confusing.” Now her voice was a whisper.
“Confusing who?” he murmured in her ear as his hand reached her breast and his fingers curled around it.
“Confusing…” she started and then sucked in breath when his thumb slid across her nipple.
No tremble this time. Instead, he took her body weight and had to slide his other arm along her waist to keep her standing.
“Elle?” Prentice prompted in her ear, “Confusing who?”
His finger joined his thumb and he rolled her taut nipple between the two.
Her upper body reared into his.
God, he loved how responsive she was.
“Wh… what?” she stammered, very breathy this time.
He was enjoying this.
He braced her weight with his body and his other hand undid the belt of her jeans. Then he undid the button. Then he slid down the zip.
All the while he did this, he reminded her, “You said it’s confusing. I’d like to know what’s confusing.”
His hand left her breast but went under her shirt.
“Um…” she replied, hesitated then her head fell back to his shoulder as his fingers pulled her bra down and he found her nipple again at the same time the fingers of his other hand found her wetness.
So wet.
So responsive.
Yes, he loved that about her.
“Baby?” he prompted her again for her answer.
Her h*ps ground down on his hand.
He smiled against her ear again.
“The children,” she whispered.
“If they wake, I’ll hear them.”
“You’re sure?”
“Relax,” he coaxed.
The fingers of his hands moved.
She relaxed.
Completely.
Except her h*ps moved against his hand.
“Pren,” she breathed, her neck and torso twisting toward him.
She wanted his mouth.
“Elle, baby, I’ll no’ kiss you.”
Her hand encouragingly cupped his at her breast over the fabric of her t-shirt as her h*ps rocked against his fingers.
“I want you to kiss me,” she whispered between breaths coming fast.
He liked that she wanted that.
And he’d give her what she wanted.
Just later.
“But I want to watch you come.”
He listened to her quiet moan and ground his hard groin against her ass.
“Okay,” she yielded softly.
In the catalogue of things he wanted to do to Elle, Prentice ticked off the selection of making (and watching) her come in the kitchen.
When he’d done this and her breathing had slowed, he cupped her sex but took his hand from her breast and put it to her jaw, twisting her beautiful face to his.
Then he kissed her.
Then he carried her to bed.
Then he took off her clothes and smoothed one of her short, sexy, silky nightgowns over her body (another item in his catalogue).
Then he disrobed and took her to bed.
Feeling the satin against his chest, her ass tucked tight in his lap, their legs cocked together and their fingers linked, he realized belatedly that tonight at the pub, Elle had been Elle.
His Elle.
All night.
And the heavy warmth that always hit his gut when he was reminded of his Elle hadn’t hit him.
It had already been there, all night.
And all day too.
His fingers tensed in hers.
“Pren?” she mumbled sleepily.
“Aye?”
“What about you?”
He liked it that she asked. And he liked it that, even sleepy and intoxicated, she asked it in a way that sounded like she cared.
“You can take care of me tomorrow.”
She snuggled her ass deeper into his lap and he reconsidered that decision.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Then almost immediately he felt her body shift into sleep.
He pulled her close, listened to her steady breathing and decided to stick with his decision.
* * * * *
Prentice woke when the bed bounced.
He knew what that bounce meant.
Elle woke as well.
She likely had no idea.
He rolled to his back and went up on a hand, looking toward the foot of the bed.
He felt Elle get up on her elbow.
Then he heard her gasp.
“Morning!” Sally, who was on her knees at the end of the bed holding a struggling Blackie in her arms, shouted.
“Oh my God,” Elle whispered, her body locking.
“When can we have pancakes?” Sally asked Elle, showing no reaction in the slightest that she was disturbed she’d found Prentice in Elle’s bed.
Elle emitted a strangled noise.
Prentice bit back laughter.
Instead of laughing, to Sally he muttered, “Come here, baby.”
Elle jerked in surprise at his words but Sally released Blackie without delay and crawled up Prentice’s body.
Sally had been doing this nearly every Saturday and Sunday (and other days besides) for as long as she could climb on his bed.
As Sally moved, Prentice laid back at the same time he pushed an arm under Elle’s body and curled her around so her front was pressed to his side. Then his arm locked and his fingers curved securely at her waist, holding her to him. His other arm went around his daughter as she collapsed on his chest.
“Are we going to have pancakes?” Sally asked him.
“In awhile,” Prentice answered.
Sally looked at Elle. “Can I have choco-chips in mine?”