Page 36 of The Art of Loving Ellie
I’m completely at peace while I paint him, my same anxieties from nights ago mysteriously gone. “I think that I’m terrified to end up like my parents, and that stops me from wanting anything more.” If he’s disappointed by my words, he doesn’t show it; he’s content to stare at the fluidity of the brush and paint, dancing across his skin.
When Tyler finishes with my left arm, my heartbeat rapidly starts to kick up. I look down at the bold green against my porcelain skin and the way he’s portrayed me as living ivy. His body moves so close to mine that our chests are a hairbreadth apart, and he gives me that damn look. The one that dares me to do the thing he knows I’m uncomfortable with.
I kick my chin up feeling a strange, overwhelming sense of confidence, and rip my tank top up over my head swiftly. The chill in the room tickles my skin, and I’m completely vulnerable standing before him, in my black bra and yoga pants as his eyes roam over every exposed inch of my skin. I shudder under his perusal.
He reaches up hooking his finger under one of the straps lying against my chest, and runs it against my flesh. He’s barely touching me, but the intimacy of it shakes me to my core.
I attempt to grab another brush but his arm reaches out blocking me, and the all too real muscle fibers I’ve marked his skin with flex as he moves. Unnerved by his silence, I speak up.
“Tyler—” I warn, but he’s having none of it. He's wholly entranced with my body.
Slowly, he bends his head down and places a kiss in the hollow of my neck so gently, I’m unsure if it even happened. He places another firmer kiss just above that one and whispers against me, “Breathe, Ellie.”
I let loose a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and tilt my head to the side, giving him more access to the tender area under my ear. He sucks on the spot—hard, sending a thrill through the center of my body and I have to lock my knees to keep from falling.
His hands are warm against my skin as he lowers down one of my bra straps, and then the other, so that it’s barely being held up by my breasts. My hands have a mind of their own, and I reach out, splaying my fingers across his muscled back, and feel each fiber flex as he continues to place hot kisses across my neck and collarbones. I get the sudden urge to bite the bunch of muscle between his shoulder and neck, but I hesitate, digging my fingernails slightly into his skin and bringing his body closer to mine instead.
My chest rises and falls rapidly at each touch, and when he slowly pulls my bra down to my waist, completely baring my chest to him. I close my eyes and a whimper escapes my lips. I’ve never been so turned on in my entire life, and the warmth of his bare chest against my nipples drives me mad. He steps back just enough to get a good look at me, but not enough to take his hands off my body.
“Ellie.” His voice is harsh and strained, and I open my eyes to see him staring at me. I can tell by the bulge in his jeans that he’s ready for me, but I’m perplexed by his hesitation. I’m not resisting?
Noting my gaze on his erection, he presses our hips together, rubbing against my center and eliciting another whimper. “You have no idea the things I want to do to you right now.” I’m aching, and finding it hard to focus on what he’s saying to me. I want him to do those things—all of those things, right this second. “But I can’t do this if you won’t tell me. I need you to say it.”
Trying to think through the fog of tension around us I blink a few times, not fully understanding. “I want you, Tyler. I need you, now.” I tell him in an attempt to move this along. Hell, at this point I’ll tell him whatever he wants to hear so long as he promises to finish what we’re starting.
He laughs lightly under his breath and brings his hand up, caressing my cheek. “No, Princess. What I want is your exclusivity.” He begins moving his hands across my body, barely touching, and utterly torturing me. “I desire you and your wild mind,” he whispers lightly running a finger down my bare stomach causing the muscles to clench, “your body,” his fingers find their way to my right wrist, “and soul.” He finishes, grabbing my other wrist and pinning them both up above my head.
Those light brown eyes capture mine and I feel him draw away slightly as his stance becomes rigid, giving his features sharp angles that I want to reach out and smooth with my fingers. He respects me enough to stop, and make me think about what I’m doing here at this moment with him, and damn him, it turns me on even more.
My entire life, I’ve struggled with the idea that I'm not lovable. If the people who created me couldn’t love me, then why would anyone else? I’ve been scrappy, and I’ve fought hard to protect my fragile heart from anyone else who could potentially break it.
I can’t love Tyler. Not the way he needs me to, but he isn’t asking me for that. He’s asking me to put down my defenses and let someone else step up to fight. To let someone else enter the arena as an equal, and as a partner—and understanding that, I know exactly what I want.
“Yes,” I manage, nodding my head up and down to give my words some conviction.
He lets out a lungful of air and he’s laughing, victorious as he crushes his mouth to mine in a passionate fury. He pulls back to look at me, and I smile at his childlike happiness. I reflect on my conversation with Aunt Jane when she told me to hold onto this for dear life, and it’s all I can do not to lose my grip.
He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him, feeling the heat between us at my center as he carries us back toward my bedroom. I’m kissing him deeply, and desperately, and his lips are like velvet against mine.
My hands greedily pull his hair and he slams me up against the bathroom door with a low growl. I let out a loud moan and relish in the mess our painted bodies make as they mix together, smearing color across our chests and onto the door. My body is on fire, and I get the courage to fulfill my fantasy from just moments ago. Stopping our kiss, I pull his head to the side and bite down on his trap muscle.
An animalistic noise comes from his chest as he presses me back up against the door, grinding against me with fury.
“You are incredible,” he says breathless, and in between kisses.
Releasing me, I slide down between the front of his body and my bathroom door until my feet hit the ground with a soft thud. He steps away from me to sit on the side of my bed, and with fire in his eyes and a dare on his lips he says, “Undress for me.”
I hesitate, unsure if I’m capable of being seductive. Slowly, I undo the clasps to my bra one by one, and remove it from my waist. Maintaining eye contact for as long as I can, I turn away from him so that I’m facing the closed bathroom door. I bend at my waist, deliberately taking my time lowering my tights down to my ankles, and give a little shimmy as I step out of them.
His answering groan tells me I must be doing something right. Taking a courageous breath, I hook both thumbs in the sides of my panties, and repeat the process, slowly lowering them to the ground.
I gasp when I turn around and smack right into his bare chest—I never heard him get off the bed. He lifts me up and tosses me onto the mattress, which causes me to giggle, and he beams a thousand-watt smile at my relaxed form spread out on the bed for him.
“God, you are beautiful.” His gaze is one of pure desire, and my stomach tightens in anticipation. “You were made for me, Ellie.”
My heart swells at his tender words.
“Undress for me,” I mimic his earlier demand, smiling and biting my lower lip.
