Prentice was a good kisser. She hadn’t had many kisses but she still felt she could say with some authority, he was the best.
She was dazed when his mouth broke from hers.
His hand went to her jaw, his thumb running along her cheekbone.
“I forgot how ticklish you were.” He was still speaking in that soft voice, the voice that did funny things to her.
Concentrating on the funny things and how nice they made her feel, Elle didn’t reply.
“I used to tickle you all the time.” He grinned and continued, “When we weren’t fighting.” She watched as his grin faded but warmth hit his eyes when his thumb traced her lower lip while he watched. His gaze came back to hers and he murmured, “Do you remember?”
“I remember,” Elle whispered.
She remembered everything about him and the time they spent together.
Everything.
Considering he was close, Elle got lost in his every-colored eyes, counting the colors again, comparing the occurrences, fascinated by this activity even though she’d memorized the results.
His forehead touched hers, his hand at her jaw tensed and he growled, “I love it when you look at me like that. Always did.”
His growl slid through her like velvet.
Elle pressed into him.
His arm around her tightened but he sighed and lifted his head. “I need to cook muffins.”
He didn’t sound thrilled with this prospect.
“You do,” she replied, trying not to smile. Prentice started to roll, taking her with him when Elle locked her body, catching his attention and he stopped. “You also need to talk to Jace,” she said quietly.
Both his arms went around her and he gave her a squeeze, murmuring, “Aye.”
He pulled them from the bed, grabbed her panties from the floor, handed them to her and she slid them on while he put on his sweats. She was about to get her jeans when his hands came to her h*ps and he shuffled her to the door.
“I need to put on my jeans,” she told him, resisting and attempting to turn back into the room.
She failed at this too.
He reached in front of her and grasped the door handle, informing her, “You’re good.”
She was… good?
Was he mad?
She was in a t-shirt!
With effort, she turned to face him but he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her out of the door’s arc.
“I’m only wearing your t-shirt,” she reminded him unnecessarily as he could see she was only in his t-shirt.
“Aye,” he replied. “But you’re covered.”
She continued to resist as he forced her, hands again at her hips, through the door.
“Prentice! I’m in a t-shirt! I can’t eat breakfast with your children in a t-shirt!” she hissed.
“Why no’?” he asked casually.