Page 45 of The Art of Loving Ellie
“I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up and I drink the rest of the burning liquid down, making an audible ‘ahhh’ sound.
I’m hit by a sudden onslaught of emotions, and for a split second, it terrifies me. I’m sad but also excited, and maybe a tiny bit disappointed in myself—but I decide I don’t like that emotion so I grab the side of my head, pretending to pull the thought out, and throw it away in a make-believe trash can.
Stumbling my way to the kitchen, I turn on my Bluetooth speaker, and a heavy guitar rift fills my living space. I throw my loose hair around and air guitar my way to the bedroom to slip into something a little more appropriate for Tyler’s visit. I sift around in my closet for what feels like hours before finally settling on a matching set of royal purple lingerie that I have kept in the very back of my closet for a rainy day.
My head feels a little more than funny, and I’m having a hard time walking straight. Giggling, I bounce off the walls trying to make it to my kitchen for more wine, and I’m just about to pop the cork when I hear a knocking sound at the door. I smile so wide that my cheeks hurt, and with my heart in my throat, I run over to the door and open it, baring my body to him and any neighbors that may happen to wander by.
I lean against the door frame in all of my glory and slur a very sexy, “Hey there, stranger.” He looks gorgeous in loose jeans and a plain white tee peeking out from under his coat as he stares at a woman he doesn’t recognize. His light brown hair is playfully curling under a beanie, and his whiskey brown eyes light with excitement before quickly changing to displeasure.
“What are you doing, Ellie?” He walks inside and looks around as if waiting for someone to jump out and yell, ‘gotcha!’.
Wait, he’s irritated?
“I just wanted some company.” I bite my lip and trail a finger down his chest, leaving it resting on his belt.
Tyler drops his duffle bag on the ground and removes his coat as he carefully slides his eyes over every square inch of my exposed skin. The thought of him staying with me causes a familiar rush of heat across my too sensitive skin, and I can see the vein at his temple thumping as he attempts to control himself.
Putting some space between us, he walks over to my speaker and turns the music down. “Why are you drinking, Ellie?”
I reach up and smooth out the frown line between his brows, and his shoulders sag a little at my touch. “I had a really awful day—actually, couple of days.” I hiccup, and a hint of a smile plays at the corner of his perfect lips. He crosses his arms over his chest, keeping me at a distance, but I let my eyes roam his body, soaking up every bit of him.
“Awful day or not, I have a feeling you’re not going to be too happy with yourself in the morning.”
I feel a frown forming on my face. “You sound an awful lot like Alex right now.”
He shakes his head, not understanding my reference. “What?”
“Enough.” I let the power the alcohol is giving me course through my veins as I try my best to take charge. “I don’t want to talk about my day; I want to do something more interesting.” I playfully place my finger in the center of his chest, swaying my hips while I back him up until the backs of his knees touch the couch. I give him a gentle push, and entranced, he obediently sits.
“I just want to feel good,” I whisper to him and straddle my legs across his lap, bringing our most intimate parts against each other. The barrier of our clothing is the only thing that keeps us apart.
Tyler groans as he holds a death grip on the couch cushions, and war wages behind his eyes—almost as if he doesn’t trust himself to touch me.
“Ellie,” he starts, trying to stop me, but I place my mouth over his lips, nipping him, and trail a line of kisses down his neck. His rich, masculine scent drives me mad, and I grind against him, feeling him already ready for me.
I run my hands up his chest, over his shirt, and swiftly pull it up over his head. My mouth begins to water at the sight of his fit body underneath me. His skin feels like silk; the olive color giving him the perfect tan.
Absently, I run my fingers through the thin trail of hair between his pecs. “Why do you deny us?” I say lightly, using the same phrase he said to me the night he lured me into the supply closet.
He pauses a moment, searching my eyes for something before swiftly pulling my mouth to his. He keeps one hand tightly wrapped around the waves of my hair, and I moan hungrily into his mouth as he devours me, completely and wholly, until the horridness of this whole day starts to disappear. He moves his thumb to my center, gently making little circles over my most sensitive spot, and I shiver involuntarily.
“You’re wet.” He grinds his teeth together, stating it painfully. I don’t dwell on his hot and cold attitude. Instead, I slide down onto the floor, unbuttoning his belt and jeans as the rug bites into my knees, and I’m throbbing with anticipation.
My foot collides with my empty wine glass, abruptly knocking it over, and the light sound of it rolling across the floor completely shatters any chance I had of making love to him tonight.
“Stop,” he commands, and I freeze, reluctantly obeying him. He closes his eyes, and opens them again, seeming as if it’s physically painful for him to button his jeans back up. “Ellie, you know I can’t do this. I refuse to take advantage of you.”
Sitting back on my heels, I huff under my breath. “Sure didn’t seem like you weren’t going to.”
His right eye ticks and I can see that I’ve foolishly made a mistake. I flinch when he stands up, irritated by my immaturity. “Are you serious? Look at you! You are the sexiest damn woman I have ever seen.” He rips his beanie off, running a hand through his hair and I focus on his chest rising and falling so I don’t have to meet his eyes. “DammitI know I wanted to, but I’m stopping this now, and you’re going to explain to me why you are acting so weird.”
“I’m notgoingto explain anything. I’m sick of you, and everyone else telling me how I need to act and who I need to be. Well, thisisme! If you don’t like it, there’s the door.” My breath is coming in and out rapidly, and I suddenly feel ice cold from rejection. I rub my arms frantically as they break out in goosebumps, and sway a little from the dizziness the wine is causing me. Why am I sabotaging this?
Tyler steps up to me so that his bare chest brushes mine. “That’s not how this works, Princess. I don’t go running when shit gets tough. Tell me what’s wrong.” He’s all-powerful staring down at me, not giving me any space, and challenging me to defy him.
I stare at him for several heartbeats before I eventually sigh. “I took your advice and I spoke with my dad yesterday.” His face is serious as he searches my eyes and I’m not sure what emotions he sees, but he turns and walks over to the couch, grabbing a blanket. He wraps it around my nearly naked body as he guides me to have a seat, and I hug it tightly around me, feeling hollow. “He’s dying.”
Tyler’s breath catches, and I push blanket covered fists into my eyes to keep from crying. The alcohol is completely in control of me at this point, and I can’t stop the hot tears from saturating the blanket. This must be one of the negative things about drinking; once you’ve gone too far, it’s not very easy to regain control. I bring my knees to my chest and he pulls me in tightly against his body.
