This was a departure since for the past week when he wasn’t worried about Sally, Jason and getting the work done on a deadline that was fast approaching, he normally spent his time considering all the things he’d like to do to Elle.
Regardless of the fact that she still looked exhausted and was losing weight mainly because the woman kept so busy she didn’t f**king eat, not to mention the fact that she’d left him and his family four weeks ago without looking back and for reasons only known in that crazy f**king head of hers, he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her.
He didn’t want to be attracted. He wanted to be over it and move on, as she clearly was.
But he was attracted to her.
Very attracted.
In fact, he thought about this so often and there were so many different options, his mind had automatically started cataloguing the things he wanted to do to her. Where he wanted to put his mouth, his hands, his fingers, the different positions he wanted to try, the various rooms and furniture available.
Christ, it consumed him.
He’d never experienced anything like it, not even twenty years ago.
Then again, he hadn’t had her twenty years ago.
He was replacing the bottle when he heard, “Prentice?”
His eyes cut to the door of his study.
Elle stood there wearing jeans that fit her too well (even if she had lost weight) and a stylish but see-through purple blouse with tiny pleats down the front and a camisole he could see underneath. Her feet were bare, her hair was in a messy bunch that had slid to the back of her head and she’d taken off her jewelry but still wore her makeup.
She looked like she could be photographed for a magazine.
Instead, she was casually standing in the doorway of his study in his home gazing at him with soft, weary eyes and, if he took six steps, she could be in his arms.
On that tempting thought and to take his mind from it, his eyes fell to her hands something he didn’t realize he habitually did and he saw she was not clenching them in fists (something he did realize she habitually did) but she was carrying a magazine.
“Is something on your mind?” he asked, his gaze going back to her tired face.
“Um…” she started then she stopped.
This annoyed him.
The first time she came back she seemed cool and in control except, of course, when they were bickering but even then she’d seemed in control.
This time she seemed less sure of herself, more hesitant and it irritated him because it made her warmer, more approachable and unbelievably appealing.
He watched as she looked to the ceiling then asked, “Is Sally okay?”
“Aye.”
Her gaze came to him and her head tipped to the side. “Jason?”
“Aye.”
“Are you okay, um… after all of this?”
He liked it that she asked. Especially since she asked in a way that indicated she cared.
That familiar heavy, warm feeling hit his gut.
He ignored it and repeated, “Aye.”
She stopped speaking then she took in a breath.
With little patience, wanting to be out of her presence, wanting to be outside with his whisky, Prentice asked, “Elle, what’s on your mind?”