Fairytale Come Alive (41 page)

Then he bought her a drink.

When he did so it was not lost on him that their intimate conversation had been watched by avid eyes, most especially Hattie who was still gazing at him openly, that sour expression on her face even though her husband Nigel was speaking to her.

By the time he returned from the bar, Elle had forgiven Annie and the night began.

As Elle promised, she drank this drink (and the ones following it) slower but the damage was already done. Elle was borderline smashed and Annie was in the room. Only one thing could happen and it did.

Madness ensued.

Therefore, the night included Annie challenging Prentice and Dougal to a team dart competition with Elle being Annie’s partner.

And Elle was hopeless at darts.

In three games she barely hit the dart board no matter how much Annie coached her which was a great deal, all of it misguided and most of it drunken but it was, nevertheless, coaching.

Annie and Elle found Elle’s ineptitude screamingly funny and spent most of their time in fits of laughter, doubled over, their arms wrapped around their middles. Whilst they did this, Prentice and Dougal stood grinning at them, coaxing them to get on with the game or assuring other patrons that neither Elle nor Annie was under the influence of illegal substances.

After one throw where Elle took five minutes to line up her shot, the tip of her tongue at the side of her mouth, her eye squinting down the dart, her mouth eventually assuring Annie with mistaken confidence, “I think I’ve got it this time,” (and then she embedded the dart in the wall beside the board) that Annie laughed so hard she fell into Elle who fell into Dougal who managed, miraculously (since he was also laughing), to keep them all standing.

After the dart game and another vodka, lemon and lime for Elle and some very animated but completely incomprehensible discussion between Annie and Elle about “recycling outfits”, the night also included Elle suddenly and bizarrely shouting across the pub, “You are my new
favorite
person!
” when Gordon Taggart walked in.

She then hurried across the pub (under the watchful, interested eyes of most of the patrons) and gave Gordon a huge hug.

When Prentice sauntered to them and extricated the astonished Gordon from Elle’s tight embrace, she explained to Prentice, “Gordon tried to save Sally and me from the big, bad paparazzi today.”

This was news to him and not good news.

Therefore, Prentice turned his now unamused gaze to Elle. “You didn’t tell me you saw photographers today.”

She took in his expression, bit her lip and then leaned into Gordon and whispered loudly, “Whoops.”

In turn, Gordon leaned into Elle and advised, “Probably should tell him when the vultures are circling, lass.”

Gazing at Gordon as if he was a renown sage, Elle nodded before she shared, “I got caught up in cookie baking, ironing and hamburger meat and I forgot.”

Gordon smiled at Prentice but replied to Elle, “That happens.”

“I just had an idea!” Elle cried suddenly and latched onto Gordon’s arm. “You need to come over for hamburgers!”

Gordon chuckled before he replied, “I’d like that.”

“Okay!” she agreed eagerly and put her hand to her ear, thumb and forefinger extended like a phone, the finger of her other hand pointing back and forth between her and Gordon as Prentice (now back to amused) pulled her away and she assured, “I’ll call you.”

Gordon smiled at Prentice but spoke to Elle, “Look forward to it, lass.”

Elle turned and let Prentice guide her to their table as she said, “He has a cute dog.”

“The collie Sally mentioned,” Prentice guessed.

“You betcha,” Elle replied, threw herself into the booth, grabbed her drink, sucked a healthy sip through her straw, slammed her glass back down and turned to Prentice who’d seated himself beside her. She slapped a hand on his chest and leaned close, declaring, “Sally needs a dog.”

Prentice slid his arm along her waist and smiled before he replied, “Sally does
no’
need a dog.”

“She
so
needs a dog,” Elle returned.

“She’s no’ getting a dog,” Prentice stated.

Elle turned her head to Annie but left her body leaned close to Prentice and called in reinforcements, “Annie! Does Sally need a dog?”

Immediately, head bobbing wildly, Annie concurred with her friend, “Sally
so
needs a dog.”

Dougal grinned at Prentice.

Prentice sighed.

Then he repeated, “She’s no’ getting a dog.”

Elle’s head twisted back to face him. “But she
wants
a dog.”

“She wants a horse, a trip to Harrods and to be a princess too.”

He watched as Elle’s eyes drifted over his shoulder and she whispered, “I could do that.”

And she could.

Christ, he was fucked.

His arm gave her a squeeze as his voice gave her a warning, “Elle –”

Her eyes came back to his. “All except the princess part.”

“You aren’t buying her a horse.”

“Okay,” she relented. “Maybe not the horse. You live on a cliff. Horses don’t do cliffs.” Her eyes went unfocused and she finished on a mutter, “I don’t think.” Then she turned to Annie again and called, “Hey Annie, do horses do cliffs?”

Annie was cuddling against Dougal watching Prentice and Elle but, at Elle’s question, her eyes slid to the side as if contemplating this question.

Then she looked back at Elle and answered, “Nope.”

Elle turned to Prentice and declared, “Okay. The horse idea is out.”

Prentice wanted to laugh. He really did. However there were more pressing things to attend to.

“You aren’t taking her to Harrods either,” he stated.

“Why not?”

Prentice found he had no answer to that. He also found he liked the idea of Elle granting his daughter’s wish.

He liked it a great deal.

His hand, curled at her waist, drifted up her side, bringing her closer.

“All right, baby, you can take Sally to Harrods,” he said softly.

Her arms shot up in the air and she shouted, “Hurrah!”

Her exuberance was intoxicating, so much so he decided the night was over.

His other arm circled her and he brought her closer.

“Finish your drink, Elle,” he ordered.

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, her head tipped to the side and she asked, “Why?”

“Because it’s time to go home.”

She rested her body against his, her breasts pressed against his chest, her face close enough to kiss and she asked, “It is?”

God, she was cute.

“Definitely,” he said firmly.

Her eyes moved over his face then they warmed as her body relaxed into his.

Then she whispered, “Okay.”

She pulled away and turned, announcing to Annie and Dougal as she reached for her drink, “Prentice says it’s time to go home.”

“I bet he does,” Annie mumbled through a chuckle.

“Dougal says it’s time to go home, too,” Dougal declared as he curled Annie closer.

Annie tilted her head back and looked at her new husband.

Then she murmured, “Mm.”

Prentice watched his friend touch his mouth to his wife’s.

Then he watched his friend’s eyes turn to catch his.

That was when Prentice realized life’s path took him and Dougal full circle, through a lot of beautiful landscape with a side trip to hell (for Prentice) and just a lot of wandering through hell (for Dougal).

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 having sex 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 hips 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 hips 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 hips 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.