Private Practice

chapter Fifteen


Ellie hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes, but now she opened them and fell into the endless emerald depths of Tyler’s. As their gazes connected, she sensed his delivered a message. Insight flickered at the edge of her consciousness like a candle burning at midnight, but then he drove into her, flooding her overloaded system with sensations, extinguishing thought.

She barely felt the first drops of cool summer rain strike her feverish skin.

He set the pace, slow and thorough, and stoked the hungry need building and centering inside her with each incredible thrust. Warmth escalated to heat. Heat turned to fire, and still he watched. The rain caressing her skin only fed the flames. His breath against her cheek only fanned the blaze.

Control ran through her hands like water. Not good. This wasn’t what she’d bargained for. She flexed her fingers and tested the careful but unbreakable prison of his grip. She must have made a frustrated noise when she couldn’t pull free, because he whispered, “Don’t. If you touch me, this will be over in three seconds. Just let me have you.”

“Not like this, it’s too—” Too intimate? Too intense? She couldn’t put the fear into words, but suddenly, the thought of staring into his all-seeing eyes while she shattered in his arms terrified her, even as every cell in her body ached to do just that.

“Before, in the bedroom, you said you trusted me. Trust me now and let go. I want to watch your eyes go dark and dreamy, I want to hear that little cry you make right before you come. I want to feel your body tremble for me.”

The words alone made her tremble. What he didn’t seem to appreciate was that she had no choice—he had her completely at his mercy and every long, leisurely stroke sharpened her need to a critical, almost painful point. Or maybe he knew and simply didn’t care, but no amount of writhing on her part altered his slow, measured thrusts. Her breath came in erratic pants, and still he tortured her with the sweet, unhurried rhythm. Stroking, stroking…always stroking, until she couldn’t concentrate on anything except the slick, hot slide of him over her swollen, aching flesh.

“Let go,” he repeated, thrusting harder, reaching deeper.

She couldn’t stifle a helpless moan of pleasure, but endured another flash of insight— this one as profound and powerful as his body buried in hers. Let go? She’d let go a while back, without even realizing it. Maybe weeks ago, when he’d shrugged off her carefully prepared lesson and taken her out on his motorcycle instead, or days ago, when he’d gone all the way to Lexington to shop for something as ridiculous as sex toys, or last night, when he’d held her in his arms at the side of the road and let her cry all over him. Somewhere along the line she’d handed this man way more than her body. While she struggled against that revelation, Tyler whispered, “Now,” gathered her close, and drove into her with one final, devastating thrust.

She let go. He held on. They both went flying.

“I love you,” tumbled from her lips.

Despite Tyler’s big, heavy, incredibly warm body covering hers, Ellie shivered as she stared at the stars peeking through wispy clouds. The storm had passed, but now the rapid beat of her heart replaced the cadence of falling rain.

Had she actually spewed the words “I love you,” or had she imagined it? Either answer scared her senseless. Tyler and she were completely wrong for each other. She yearned for the ties and connections of a big, tight-knit family, a sense of belonging. Things she’d never experienced. Neither had Tyler, but unlike her, he’d spent his entire adult life avoiding them. Even if he suddenly decided to trade late nights at Rawley’s and a revolving-door love life for commitments and responsibilities, how could they possibly succeed? Talk about the blind leading the blind. What did either of them know firsthand about happy homes? Absolutely nothing.

Home and family defined Roger as intrinsically as his blue eyes and ready smile. His loving, supportive upbringing counterbalanced everything hers lacked. Filial bonds, a sense of purpose and destiny based simply on being a Reynolds, were practically woven into his DNA. And he’d be on her doorstep Monday night, ready to meet a sexually experienced, confident woman, not some confused girl who’d accidentally fallen for the wrong man. She’d had a plan. How had her heart gone so completely off course?

A groan sneaked past her lips before she could bite it back. Tyler immediately shifted and mumbled, “Sorry. I’m crushing you.” Head propped in his hand, he looked down at her, his expression unreadable.

“No, no. It’s not you. I’m just, um…” Her flight instinct kicked in. “I’ve got to go.” She said the words quickly because her stupid heart wanted to stay right where she was, at his side, forever.

“Something spook you, Doc?”

Was he toying with her? She sat up and scooted away from him before her hands gave in to the temptation of his broad shoulders and the carved muscles of his chest. “No, of course not.”

He edged closer. She inched back.

“You seem a little jumpy. Let’s talk.”

“Talk?” God, she sounded like a parrot.

“Yeah. I’ll start. A few minutes ago, you told me, ‘I—’”

“I have to go!” Her mind shuffled for a plausible exit strategy. “I need to check on Frank. He wasn’t home when I dropped off groceries after work.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “Frank is MIA?”

“No,” she admitted, hating the quiver in her voice. “He left a note saying he was at a meeting.”

“So what’s to check? He was at a meeting.” His raised eyebrow implied her excuse fell short of convincing.

She scrambled to her feet and shook her head. “Frank doesn’t have meetings. He has Rawley’s—when they serve him—and his couch. His note doesn’t make any sense. Nothing makes any sense.” Least of all her. She took a step back, then another. “Good luck with the bank on Tuesday. I’ll see you…around.”

…

Tyler stared up at the big ghost-white moon. The craggy face seemed to laugh at him, and he supposed the whole thing did play like some kind of joke. He, the king of the loose, casual hookup, just produced an “I love you” from the only woman who mattered, and she ran off so fast she practically left a vapor trail in her wake.

Still, it was hard to appreciate the humor of the situation with his heart bleeding out of his chest. He’d intended to say the words, eventually, but in the proper setting, with the right lead-in. Say the words first and be prepared to deal with her doubts. He knew damn well she had them. Doubts about the chances of two people like them, who’d never known love, creating one that lasted a lifetime.

He hadn’t said the words, even though he felt them. She had, and it should have thrilled him, but it sucked. Not only because she hadn’t meant to say it, but because afterward, she’d looked at him like some kind of dead-end detour she’d accidentally taken. She’d certainly thrown herself into reverse and hauled ass in the other direction as quickly as she could. Somewhere deep inside, a part of him insisted her reaction affirmed a lesson he should have learned when his mother left. Namely, he wasn’t the kind of guy women stuck around for, invested in, or planned on spending forever with.

Another part of him recognized the thoughts as Big Joe talking in his head, telling him he wasn’t good enough. He’d done his best to ignore his father when alive. He sure as hell shouldn’t listen to a dead man.

He should listen to his gut. And his gut told him Ellie loved him. The knowledge rattled her. Understandable, considering how much she liked her plans. She felt safe with everything mapped out, and loving him threw her into uncharted territory. She’d need a moment to get her bearings, sort out her feelings. Maybe more than a moment, but the point was, she needed time.

He’d give her ’til Monday. Then ready or not, they were going to talk.