Fairytale Come Alive

by Kristen Ashley

  He settled in behind her, tightening his arms.

  She didn’t fight it. She cuddled closer even though there was no closer to get still, she sought it.

  This pleased him.

  Perhaps he was getting somewhere.

  His face went back to her hair and his arm left her waist. His hand travelled down her arm and found her hand.

  Realizing vaguely he was relieved to find her hand open and relaxed; he threaded his fingers in hers.

  Her fingers closed tight.

  Yes, he was getting somewhere.

  “Sleep,” he encouraged.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  He stayed awake until he knew she slept.

  And he stayed awake longer, unconsciously waiting for her to have that dream.

  When time slid by and she didn’t but instead laid peaceful in his arms, Prentice finally fell asleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Miracle Worker

  Isabella

  In the moments before fully waking, Isabella felt that sweet, long-lost sense of contentment she’d only experienced once in her life for fifteen months twenty years ago.

  Then her travel alarm sounded.

  Her eyes opened.

  The warm solid weight at her back shifted, the fingers laced in hers released and Prentice pressed into her back as she saw his arm reach out, his hand tagging the clock.

  The bed moved as she felt him get up on an elbow and she stared at her clock held before her in his hand.

  “Christ, how do you turn this fucking thing off?” he growled, his voice gruff with sleep.

  Evidently, Prentice was not a morning person.

  She took it from him and pressed the off button. Without delay, he pulled it from her hand and put it back to the nightstand.

  She tried to get her thoughts together but they were randomly and determinedly skipping from one to another, all of them centered around how very much she liked waking up next to Prentice (even grouchy Prentice).

  His body was warm, it was big, it was strong, it was pressed up against hers and the bed felt cozy and safe with him in it.

  His face went into her neck and she felt his lips there.

  She liked that too.

  His hand glided up her belly to between her breasts as he said, “We have to be quick, baby. Need to get the kids up and fed.”

  Those breasts his palm rested between started tingling.

  “Quick?” she asked, her mind muddled, nothing he said made sense.

  And, anyway, she didn’t want him to make sense. She wanted to nestle into him and go back to the dreamless, restful sleep she only seemed to have when he was with her.

  She realized what he meant when his palm moved from between her breasts to cup one of them and his teeth nipped her earlobe.

  She trembled.

  “Quick,” he replied.

  Before she could catch a thought his face went away from her neck, he pressed her to her back, rolled over her, his mouth captured hers in a heady kiss and then Prentice deliciously guided them through “quick”.

  It wasn’t until they were naked in the shower and the water was sluicing into her hair and down her body that Isabella’s thoughts semi-focused.

  They focused first on the fact that she was naked with Prentice in the shower and she wasn’t certain she was entirely comfortable with that.

  Then they focused on the fact that Prentice was naked with her in the shower and she was very certain she was comfortable with that because he had a fantastic body.

  Then they focused on the fact they were all of a sudden in the shower even though she’d barely had time to recover from the climax he’d just given her. He hadn’t even let her get her breathing regulated or her heart rate slowed before he pulled her out of bed and hustled her into the bathroom.

  He definitely didn’t let her get her thoughts sorted.

  She tipped her head back, blinking against the spray and looked up at him.

  “Pren –”

  She, yet again, didn’t finish his name.

  “Jesus, Elle, with all this shit, do you have any shampoo?”

  Her blinking eyes saw he had two of her bottles in his hands and he was studying them.

  “That’s body wash,” she informed him inanely, pointing to the bottle in his right hand. “And that’s body scrub,” she went on, pointing to the bottle in his left.

  He put them down and grabbed another one.

  “That’s conditioner,” she said quickly.

  He looked at her, put the conditioner down and grabbed another one.

  “That’s shave lotion.”

  With her shave lotion still in one hand, he straightened and hauled her to him with his other arm as he burst out laughing.

  Before she could process their scenario, standing, naked in the shower Prentice holding her and laughing about showering products, he pulled away.

  He reached for the last remaining bottle, muttering with obvious amusement, “Process of elimination.”

  Then he turned her to face away from him and she stared at the tile wall, her mind snapping into focus.

  “Pren –”

  She interrupted herself this time as his fingers slid pleasantly strong through her hair and against her scalp.

  He was washing her hair.

  She supposed at some point her mother washed her hair when she was younger. But she didn’t remember.

  And, of course, when she was at the stylists, they washed her hair and gave her a head massage and she always enjoyed that.

  However, this was something else.

  This felt marvelous.

  Her mind erased, her head bent forward and her body automatically relaxed back into Prentice’s. He took her weight as his hands worked in her hair.

  When he was done, he gently moved her forward under the spray. Supporting her weight against his body with an arm at her waist, he used his other hand to rinse the soap from her hair.

  Then he repeated this delightful sequence of actions.

  Then he progressed the shower by using his hands, soapy with her body wash, to cleanse her from neck to feet.

  Thoroughly cleansing her.

  That felt marvelous too.

  So marvelous she didn’t protest and was still dazed when he carefully maneuvered her out from under the spray and positioned himself in it.

  She was still dazed when he said, “We need to hurry, baby. Help me out.”

  She looked up at him, blank, as he squirted her shampoo in his palm.

  “Help you?” she asked stupidly.

  He set the shampoo aside and gave her the body wash. She stared at it, her mind freezing as she understood what he meant.

  Then she stared at him.

  Then she said the first thing that popped into her head.

  “If I use this, you’re going to smell like lilies of the valley.”

  He grinned as his hand shot up, curving around her neck and he pulled her face to his.

  “Means I’ll smell you all day,” he said against her lips before he touched his there and finished in that soft tone that did funny things to her entire system, “Works for me.”

  Then he released her and went back to shampooing.

  Isabella stared at the body wash in her hand. Then she stared at his body. Then her mind fogged but that was fine considering her hands didn’t need her mind to work to do what they wanted to do.

  She was thoroughly enjoying running her soapy hands along the slick, wet, soapy skin and hard muscle of Prentice’s body, very thoroughly enjoying it, when Prentice’s fingers curled around her wrists. He pulled her up against his body by wrapping her arms around his waist.

  The water cascaded down both of them but his head shielded her face which was tipped to look up at his.

  His every-colored eyes were so warm they were burning and her breath caught.

  His voice was a husky rumble as he murmured, “I think you got it.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, vaguely embarrass
ed because she was overenthusiastic with the body wash.

  Mostly, she was lost in counting the occurrence of each color in his irises and comparing the numbers.

  Then she distractedly noticed something changed in those eyes and her mind only fully processed the change when his hand came to her jaw.

  She blinked.

  Then she focused on the look in his face and her belly dropped.

  “What?” she whispered.

  His thumb slid along her bottom lip.

  His voice was again a husky rumble, this one softer and definitely sweeter when he whispered, “You haven’t looked at me like that in twenty years.”

  Isabella’s throat closed and her body went solid.

  For half a second.

  Then his fingers slid into her hair, cupping the back of her head, his arm sliced around her waist, pulling her deeper into his body and he kissed her.

  Hard, long, and beautiful with the warm water sliding down their bodies and lilies of the valley fragrancing everything around them.

  Heaven.

  When she was putty in his hands, he released her but kissed her forehead and stepped out of the shower before she could think another thought.

  She watched mutely through the glass door as he toweled off then wrapped the towel around his hips and turned to her.

  “I’ll get the kids,” he said before he strode from the room.

  She stared at the empty room and then her body jolted.

  This wasn’t right.

  Well, it was right, in a perfect world type of way.

  But Isabella existed in a world that was far from perfect.

  And she needed to shield Prentice and his children from that world

  She turned off the water, jumped from the shower, toweled off and ran into the bedroom. Dragging on underwear and a bra, she opened the wardrobe doors and stilled, staring at her clothes.

  She’d packed in a panic, not thinking of much except making certain she had the bare necessities. She never dreamed she’d be there for over a week. Everything she had in the wardrobe, Prentice had already seen.

  It was too early to start recycling outfits.

  And she needed a good outfit.

  They’d had great sex last night and woke up together for the first time ever. That alone meant she needed a good outfit.

  But they’d also just had great sex that morning and showered together for the first time ever.

  That meant she needed a great outfit.

  One part of her mind stopped the ridiculous rampaging thoughts of the other.

  What was she thinking? She wasn’t trying to impress him with her style and flair.

  She grabbed a pair of jeans and ran to the bureau and snatched a long-sleeved, dusty pink, thin, fitted t-shirt. She tugged these on and started to run from the room when she realized the towel was still wrapped around her hair.

  She ran back, yanked off the towel and dragged a comb through her hair.

  Then she started to run from the room again.

  Then she ran back and pumped smoothing elixir into her hand, rubbed it through her hair and ran the comb back through.

  Then she started to run from the room yet again.

  Then she ran back, put on deodorant and spritzed on perfume and she began to run from the room.

  Then, knowing she should ignore it (but she couldn’t ignore it), she ran back, folded the towel on the rack, made the bed and grabbed her clothes that were strewn around the room during the sexual festivities last night.

  She noted that Prentice’s clothes were amongst hers and she grabbed those too thinking of him walking through the house in nothing but a towel, which caused her skin to start tingling.

  Gathering their mingled clothes in itself was an act that caused her tingling skin to start to get warm as the memories of last night invaded.

  With resolve, she ignored the tingling, the warmth and the memories.

  Then she ran to the kitchen, stopping at the mudroom to toss their dirty clothes into the pile of unwashed laundry.

  She’d flipped the switch on the coffeemaker when she heard Prentice calling her name.

  She turned and looked to the top of the stairs.

  He stood there barefoot, in jeans, his wet hair slicked back, his shirt unbuttoned all the way down, exposing his chest and stomach.

  Her resolve to ignore the tingling and warmth slipped a hefty notch.

  When she finally tore her gaze from his flat stomach and caught his eye, he bizarrely asked in an exasperated tone, “A little help up here?”

  Then he turned and disappeared down the hall.

  She stared at the place where she last saw him, slightly concerned about the frustration in his tone. Mostly her mind was busy deliberating on the fact that Prentice had asked for her to help him with something upstairs.

  Upstairs, she had made beds, gathered clothes, vacuumed, tidied and put Sally to bed.

  But in the mornings she made coffee and breakfast in the kitchen, never part of the family pandemonium upstairs that usually centered (from what she heard), one way or another, around Sally.

  Upstairs was their space. Cameron family space. And, even making beds or reading to Sally, somehow, Isabella always felt like she was intruding.

  But now, Prentice seemed to be inviting her upstairs, asking for “a little help”.

  With only a moment’s hesitation, she ran up the stairs.

  She found Prentice in Sally’s room, his shirt buttoned but not tucked in, his hands on his hips, his exasperated gaze on Sally.

  Sally was dressed in the fancy, frilly flower girl dress she wore to Annie’s wedding. The dress was on backward, its skirt askew mainly because part of it was tucked into her little girl pants.

  She was glowering at her father, clearly digging her heels in about something and it didn’t take an experienced parent to know it was the dress.

  “Sally, I’m no’ going to say it again, take off the dress,” Prentice demanded, his voice firm, his patience obviously spent.

  “I want to be a princess today!” Sally returned, unwisely defiant in the face of her father’s escalating frustration, she went on to cry in equal frustration, “And this is my only princess dress!”

  “Princess.” Isabella heard mumbled from beside her and she saw that Jason had joined them, dressed in his school uniform. His eyes were on his sister and he was shaking his head with disbelief. “Mental,” he finished.

  “Jace, your contribution isn’t needed,” Prentice said to his son, Jason gave Isabella a hilariously disgusted look (at which Isabella did not laugh, even though she wanted to) and wandered out of the room.

  Prentice’s eyes cut back to his daughter and he said warningly, “Sally –”

  “I wanna be a princess!” she shrieked, Prentice tensed and then he turned his gaze to Isabella, brows going up.

  She stared at him.

  He expected her to do something.

  Her.

  Isabella.

  She had no idea what to do!

  She looked at Sally.

  Sally was still scowling stubbornly at her father.

  Then it came to her.

  “Hmm,” Isabella murmured, putting her forefinger to her lips as her eyes travelled Sally and Sally’s gaze went to her. Isabella continued, “Of course, Cinderella ended up a princess but she didn’t get that by demanding to wear her best dress during the day. In fact, that was something her evil stepsisters would do, seeing as they were spoilt rotten. The evil stepsisters likely wore their best princess party dresses everyday while Cinderella wore her normal clothes. That’s probably why the fairy godmother came to visit Cinderella, because she needed to have a special occasion to wear her best princess party dress.”

  Sally’s scowl had disappeared and she was watching Isabella in childlike horror at the very thought that she might be more of an evil stepsister than Cinderella.

  Isabella felt Prentice’s eyes on her but she didn’t spare him a glance.

  �
�So, I suppose, if you don’t wait for a special occasion to wear your best princess party dress then, when you need her, your fairy godmother will never come to visit.” Isabella shrugged with indifference then finished, “Oh well.”

  She turned to Prentice and saw he was watching her, biting back a smile. She didn’t react to this; she just started to leave the room.

  “I want a visit from my fairy godmother!” Sally cried, her voice desperate.

  Isabella immediately switched directions, walked up to Sally and guided her to her wardrobe while muttering, “Then let’s get you some normal clothes, sweetheart.”

  She was tugging Sally’s flower girl dress over her head when she felt her wet hair swept over one shoulder and then she felt Prentice’s hand at her waist at the same time she felt his lips at the nape of her neck.

  She shivered, felt his presence depart and, by the time she whirled, Sally free of the dress, all she saw was his back as he strode from the room.

  When she and Sally descended the stairs, Prentice was sipping coffee in the kitchen, his shirt now tucked in and boots on his feet and Jason was making toast.

  “Do we have to have porridge again today?” Sally asked, skipping to a stool.

  Isabella entered the kitchen and started to get busy as she said, “No, honey, I’ll make you some eggs.”

  “I don’t want eggs. I want you to make some of your cookies,” Sally replied, clearly determined never to give up on the idea that, one day, someone would relent and she’d get sweets for breakfast rather than just breakfast.

  “No cookies. Eggs,” Isabella returned, deciding today was not that day and she certainly wouldn’t be the one who would relent.

  “Pancakes,” Sally pushed.

  “Eggs,” Isabella repeated.

  “Pancakes!” Sally shouted.

  Isabella turned to her and explained calmly, “Pancakes are weekend food. Tomorrow’s Saturday. Saturday is the weekend. I’ll make you pancakes tomorrow, with blueberries in and everything. But today you get eggs.”

  “Okay,” Sally agreed happily.

  Prentice burst out laughing.

  So focused on Sally, Isabella’s body jerked and her gaze snapped to him. Her mind blanked as she caught sight of his handsome, laughing face.

  His handsome, carefree, laughing face.

  No tightness around his mouth, no pain in his eyes, his face was relaxed and he was at-ease in his kitchen with her and his children.