Page 20 of The Art of Loving Ellie
He pauses, absorbing my words for a moment. I’m verbally expressing uncertainty, but my eyes must betray me. Bringing his head down close to my face, he gently nuzzles my cheek with his nose.
“Is it wrong for me to feel this way?” he whispers, tracing his thumb over my lower lip gently. “Your lips; I dream about them touching my own nightly.” He moves to place soft, warm kisses against my eyelashes, causing them to flutter. “Your eyes; I see them in every woman I look at.” I blink up at him, my heart galloping in my chest at his tender words.
“Every day I think of you, and every day I pray I see you again because you make me laugh,” he chuckles lightly, driving home his point. “You make me feel…free. You’ve ruined other women for me, Ellie.” His words are coated with sincerity, and the rumble of his voice so close to my ear causes me to shiver. “Why do you deny us?”
Such an innocent question coming from this man who's crowding my space and dominating my every thought. Without warning, he swiftly picks me up and I reflexively wind my legs around his tight body. The feather-light chiffon material of my gown gathers around us and I can feel the effect I have on him burning at my center.
I look down at his furrowed brows to see that he’s just as frustrated as I am. I watched Robert pine after my mother for years, even after she repeatedly put us both down and abandoned us. I’ve seen what marriage and love can be like, and I don’t want any part of it.
“Tyler,” I practically groan, “why can’t we come to some sort of agreement? Maybe we can just try and be friends—”
My breath leaves my body in shock when my back touches the cold door, and I arch into him. I acknowledge that he wants my trust—but I’ve worked too hard to protect myself to give it away so easily. He gently shakes his head at my emotional resistance. “I can promise you this, Princess. We can be many things, but just friends cannot be one of them.”
His constant challenging irritates me. My breathing is uneven, and my mind is reeling with our bodies pressed so tightly together.
“What if I don’t want to choose?” I desire him and everything he openly offers, but I can’t stand the thought of losing control. For so long I’ve had all these rules to ground and protect me, and as of late—he’s become an exception.
I close my eyes, tilting my head back to rest on the door. Reluctantly I turn my head, exposing the tender flesh of my neck to him in surrender.
He presses tender kisses to my collarbone. “I will never hurt you.” More warm kisses make their way up my neck and I squeeze my eyes tighter, desperately trying to hate this, but not finding a single piece of me that does. “I promise I will protect you, always—even if I have to protect you from yourself.”
I lean forward and touch my forehead to his.Damn this man.
My body completely relaxes as I eagerly welcome his kiss. The gentleness I received from him earlier is gone as he pushes our bodies up against the door hard enough that I hear the seams of my dress straining where it's fitted against me.
The roughness excites me, and I kiss him back with just as much fervor. He picks up on my response as our tongues meet, and I feel lost and helpless against the wave of heat crashing through my body. My hand finds his perfectly messy hair, and a part of me enjoys messing it up even more as I silently take revenge on him for what he's making me feel—for what he is making me do!
Never in my life have I felt so alive. He moves one large hand up to my breast, gently squeezing it, making me moan into his mouth. When he rubs his thumb across my nipple, I begin grinding against him like his body is the only thing on this Earth that can give me life.
I pull his hair, hard, and he pulls mine right back, laughing lightly into my mouth as he wholly consumes me. When I pick up the pace, he meets me with the same tempo, showing me between the layers of our clothing what he has in store for me should our bodies ever fully meet.
I'm all-powerful as I rub against him, and my brain is short-circuiting as my body begs me to give in to this man. To relinquish every hesitation that I have, damn the consequences. I curse myself when I come to realize that I can’t give in to everything that this is. Tyler makes me feel a lot of things, but the most prevalent—is fear.
Feeling me stiffen in his arms, he slowly and hesitantly releases me, and the click of my heels hitting the ground is abrasive against my heated ears. My swollen lips pulse from our kiss and I wonder just who I'm becoming that I would make-out with a man that I hardly know—in a broom closet of all places!
We are silent for a short while as both of us collect our thoughts and get ourselves back to presentable. I bend down to fix the skirt of my dress when Tyler’s rough voice interrupts the silence. “I want you to come to Thanksgiving with me at my parents' house.”
All the breath in my lungs escapes me, leaving me frozen where I stand. I look over to find him casually rolling back up the sleeves of his button-down, completely at ease with himself, like he didn’t just drop a bomb the size of Little Boy on my head.
My right eye is twitching as I stare at him. “Excuseme?”
He doesn’t bother answering me, in that irritating way of his. Instead, he turns around to grab his bag off of the ground and meets my eyes. “You wantmeto come withyouto yourfamily’s Thanksgiving?” I reiterate as frenzied laughter begins to bubble in my throat. Does he not comprehend what is going on here?
“Yes, though I’m impressed by your ability to repeat things verbatim, Princess.” He winks and tries to walk by me as if I’m seriously going to let him just walk out the door right now.
I rush to put my body in front of him before he can exit. “I’m sorry, did you have a STROKE during our make-out session?!” My voice is rising, as is my blood pressure, and I poke my finger into his chest. “You’ve hardly known me two weeks. I don’t even know your last name, or—or how old you are?”
“Tyler Mitchell, at your service,” he replies assuredly, raising one eyebrow, and dammit he’s sexy when he does that. “And I’m thirty-four.” My heart practically ceases beating; he’s eleven years older than me.
Seeing my reaction makes him laugh. “Just teasing, I’m twenty-seven.”
Relieved, I blink at him in disbelief. “How am I going to waltz into your family’s home and make nice with people who will probably expect that we’re in a serious relationship?” I’m pretty sure I’m going to need meds after this.
He dares to grab my wrist and lightly pull me closer to him. “I take our relationship very seriously, Ellie.” His gaze is telling me how much he wants to get back to what we were doing before he lost his damn mind, and I hate to admit that I’m a little afraid, and a lot turned on. “It’s just Thanksgiving dinner.” He shrugs the seriousness of the situation off and softly adds, “Besides, I don’t like the idea of you spending the holiday alone, eating Baskin-Robbins and watchingHappy Gilmore.” My eyes go wide; he’s so close to the truth it almost creeps me out.
I shake my head back and forth trying to make sense of this. “I—I can’t give you an answer,” he looks crestfallen, but recovers quickly when I say, “at least, not right now.” I cross my arms around my middle in a pathetic attempt to protect myself from the strangeness that lives outside of my comfort zone.
Tucking stray strands of hair back around my bun, he leans away from me with his eyes full of warmth. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Take all the time you need, but you’ll love my family. They’re pretty awesome.” He adjusts his bag around his body and wears a boyish smile as he continues, “Gramps is a hoot, and my younger brother is the coolest guy you’ll ever meet, I’ve got two wild twin sisters that are sure to melt your heart—and as for Mom and Dad, they will not expect anything from us other than to relax, and just enjoy the day.”
