“I love big, old homes. I think owning one must be like becoming part of a family. Can I look around?” Her voice caught on the question when he backed her up against the door. Her handbag hit the polished oak floor with a soft thud.
“I’ll give you the tour later, if you’re a good girl.” His hands skimmed up her abdomen until his fingertips encountered the underwire of her bra. He shifted the cups just enough to make her shiver, despite the heat.
“A good girl?” she managed as his hands ran over her, lighting fires everywhere they touched. “Longfoot, you’re letting the whole teacher/student thing go to your head.”
“It’s gone somewhere, but I don’t think you’re going to complain.” His hands sneaked under her skirt and into the back of her panties. He hauled her up against him, and she quickly realized the only complaint she had was that she couldn’t get close enough. Animal instinct kicked in and she climbed up his big, solid frame. Arms locked around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, she rocked against him, not caring that her skirt was bunched up at her hips.
Seconds later, he had her blouse unbuttoned and her bra shoved aside. She held her breath as he cupped her breast and growled appreciatively. She knew she didn’t have a whole lot to appreciate, and generally preferred if guys left her breasts out of the proceedings, but Tyler didn’t squeeze and knead them like bread dough. No, he smoothed and caressed and lavished attention on her understated curves until her nipples tightened to sensitive peaks. The scrape of his rough palms made her thighs clench. When he caught the hard beads between his long fingers and pinched lightly, she felt the tug all the way to her core.
Oh God, if she didn’t do something fast, he was going to take her completely off her plan again. With strength born of desperation, she wriggled out of his hold and slapped her palm against the center of his chest. “Not so fast, Tyler. We’re covering chapter 3, remember?”
“Fine by me.” Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he dropped to his knees in front of her.
“What are you—?”
“Better hold on.” He curved his hand under her hip, supporting her, and shrugged her thigh over his shoulder. The move forced her off-balance. She scrambled for a handhold along the rock-hard muscle of his other shoulder.
“This isn’t chapter 3,” she protested as he brushed his lips over her thigh.
“Sure it is.” Lightly, he bit the other, and then followed up with a kiss.
Then he kissed in between. Her neck muscles dissolved and her head hit the door with a clunk.
His tongue traced the edge of her panties and delved beneath. She switched her grip from his shoulder to the top of his head, not sure if she meant to stop him or give him encouragement. He took it as encouragement, and sent his incredibly talented tongue on another pass.
“Tyler…” Was that whimper really her? “Y-you’ve got things backward.”
Through half-closed eyes she saw him smile. His grip on her backside tightened. “Backward, my ass. Sparky, prepare yourself for a lesson you’ll never forget.”
…
Tyler heard his bossy student whisper, “Wait,” when he moved in for the kill, but he ignored her. No more waiting. He went in—fast and furious and more than a little out of control. Her fingers plunged into his hair and twisted so hard he figured he’d have a bald patch by the time she finished, and he really didn’t give a shit. The way she rocked her hips and pushed herself against his tongue tipped him off that she didn’t either. Hell, she was off to the races. He leaned in, using his weight to trap her hips tighter between him and the door, and did his damnedest to keep the pace so urgent she wouldn’t have time to think.
He quickly discovered that, for Sparky, not being able to think didn’t mean not being able to talk, because her breathless monologue reached his ears.
“Oh…God. That feels amazing, but I can’t—
“You can. Thirty seconds, tops.” To prove his point, he flicked his tongue dangerously close to the bull’s-eye.
She jerked and let out a tortured little moan, but still had the gall to argue with him. “I never can, not even during a reverse chapter 3. Don’t take it personal…”
Determined to render her speechless, not to mention just plain wrong, he adjusted his grip on her hips, closed his mouth around her slick, swollen clit, and sucked until her entire body trembled.
“Ohmigod! Oh…my…God. I think I’m going to—
Hell, yeah, you are. But before he could send her over, Beethoven’s Fifth chimed from somewhere by her feet. What the…? A reluctant glance down confirmed what he already suspected. The symphony came from her handbag. He looked up at her, silently questioning.
She was a sight to behold. Eyes closed, lips parted, looking sweaty, flushed, and incredibly beautiful.
The symphony chimed again. She let out a long, slow, shaky breath, muttering something about being cursed to a life of solo orgasms. Then those big, dazed eyes opened and landed on him, brimming with disappointment. “That’s probably my service.”
“I was afraid you were going to say something like that.” Doing his best to pretend the sinking sensation in his chest stemmed from his heart pumping blood, double-time, to his highly frustrated dick, he scooped her bag off the floor and handed it to her, then slowly eased to his feet.
“No, no. Don’t get up! You never know—this could be a quick question about a prescription.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Doc.”
She sent him a grateful look and dug around in that big bag of hers for her phone while simultaneously attempting to push her skirt down. He couldn’t offer much help with a medical matter, but getting a woman in and out of her skirt? Different story. He took over the chore—and took his time with it—while she concentrated on her call. By the time she finished, he was really just entertaining himself, using the job of smoothing her skirt as an excuse to run his palms over the perfect handful of her ass.
“I’m sorry, Tyler.” She tossed her phone into her bag, avoiding his eyes, and got to work refastening her bra. “I have to go. A patient’s baby girl spiked a 103-degree fever. I’m meeting them at my office.”
“No need to be sorry.” Though he was, incredibly, as he watched her tuck her pretty little breasts away behind her pretty little bra. “Every once in a while it’s bound to happen—someone’s gonna need you even more than I do.”
He’d meant the comment as a glib reference to the minor medical emergency still straining the front of his jeans, but the whole “need you” part came out strangely serious. It gave him pause. Her, too, apparently, because her fingers fumbled on her blouse buttons.
“Thanks,” she said, giving the task of buttoning her blouse far more concentration than it warranted. “That’s sweet of you—a charming reaction to a distinctly un-charming situation. Unfortunately, we’re getting nowhere fast on my educational goals. If I don’t start mastering some skills soon, it’s going to be too late.”
Sweet? Had she really just called him sweet? He drove a Harley, for Christ’s sake. He got shot at in bars. Not on a regular basis, no, but if nothing else, taking a bullet in the ass ought to mean nobody called him sweet. Next she’d be calling him nice, and if that happened, he might as well tie a big pink bow around his balls and hand them over. On top of all that, what the fuck was up with the “too late” business?
He flattened his palms on the door, trapping her, and leaned in close. “Too late for what? Tell me, Ellie, before you scoot out my door. Is the world going to explode?” Unwanted images of her wrapped around Roger, and then Chief Bradley, burned in his mind, and set a nasty little fire in the pit of his stomach. “Or is somebody going to switch status from ‘available’ to ‘off the market’ before you can make a move?”
Wide, worried eyes flew to his, and then quickly shifted away. Bingo, he thought, for once hating to be right.
“I …” she swallowed and started again. “I have a schedule I want to stick to. Like any self-improvement effort, it’s important to
keep the momentum. I’m not blaming you, Tyler.” Her eyes darted back to him and she smiled weakly. “I mean, tonight’s interruption isn’t your fault. I just thought we’d have at least one lesson completed by now.”
“Momentum. I see.” He reached behind her and opened the door. She wanted momentum? He’d give her so much freaking momentum that she’d get completely caught up in the ride and forget where she planned on going. “In that case, what are you doing Tuesday night?”
She blinked. “Nothing.”
“Feel like taking a shopping trip to Lexington?”
“Chapter 6?”
“Yep.”
Her loud gulp almost made him laugh out loud. Now who was sweet?
“Okay,” she said, but he noticed the bravado in her voice didn’t match her round eyes and pink cheeks. Momentum restored, just like that.
Yet as he watched her taillights disappear down his drive, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d just let his student get the better of him.
…
Tuesday afternoon, Ellie raised her head from her chart notes when her office door opened. Melody stepped inside. Normally smooth, blond waves tumbled chaotically around a face past due for a powder and lipstick touch-up. Her once crisp white blouse and swingy yellow skirt bore creases and a few unidentifiable stains. Still, Ellie had to admit, Melody looked sexily disheveled. Meanwhile she probably looked like she’d spent the afternoon in a sweatbox.
Melody closed the door, adjusted one of the framed diplomas on the wall, and then plopped down in one of the pair of forest-green upholstered guest chairs opposite the desk. “Whew! What a day. I swear it felt like Grand Central Station in here an hour ago.”
Ellie propped her elbows on her big, orderly polished walnut desk. “Nothing fills exam rooms like an outbreak of hand, foot, and mouth virus among the preschool set. You did an amazing job handling the onslaught.”
The blonde shrugged off the praise, but smiled. “The little ones are super-cute, and I’m glad it turned out to be nothing serious. But we had a packed schedule before the panicked mommy calls started. Squeezing an extra six patients in at the last minute, making up the charts, collecting the insurance information and co-pays—I won’t mind if we don’t see a rush like that again for a while.”
“Me either. Are they all gone?”
“Yep. We’re officially done for the day. I don’t know about you, but my bathtub and I are going to spend some quality time together.”
“You wild woman,” Ellie teased.
“Hey, you never know.” Melody got to her feet and winked. “I might see if my bunny swims.”
“You have a pet rabbit?”
“No. Come on, Ellie, you know…The Bunny.”
When Ellie shook her head, Melody’s eyes rounded. “Oh, my God! You’ve somehow missed out on the single girl’s best friend. Do yourself a favor and Google it. Have your credit card handy. You won’t be sorry.”
“Um. Okay. Thanks. Have a good night.”
“You too, honey. Though unless you pony up for next-day delivery, you’ll have to wait five to seven business days before you have a good night.”
Curiosity got the better of her. As soon as she heard the outer door close, she turned to her computer, launched Explorer and typed “the bunny” into her search engine. Within minutes she found herself in a new and heretofore unexplored world of vibrating elastomer personal toys. Fascinated, she clicked on various styles, reading the product descriptions, the specs, and customer reviews. She had to admit all the sizes, colors, and…mercy…the capabilities of the darn thing intrigued her, and frankly, turned her on, but the idea of stimulating herself to orgasm without the benefit of Tyler’s lips, hands, and a few other essential parts seemed hollow—like getting an A on a book report by skimming the CliffsNotes instead of reading the book.
If the user reviews could be believed, scores of satisfied customers disagreed. One particularly enthusiastic review had her slouched in her chair, fanning her cheeks.
“Must be a helluva website to put that look on your face, Doc.”
Ellie nearly fell out of her chair. She jerked upright and saw Tyler standing in her doorway, looking tall and tanned and entirely too cool. She grabbed a pen and pulled a chart from the stack on her desk. “Jesus. You scared me.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. Guess you were too engrossed in…” Before she could stop him, he rounded her desk and peered at her computer screen. “Ah, well. This explains things. Making up a personal shopping list for our field trip this evening?”
“No. I was merely doing some research.” Though she strived for dignity, heat flooded her face. Stupid to be embarrassed. Tyler already knew about her plan to master at least five sexual tactics designed to bring a man to his knees. But for whatever reason, it unnerved her to be caught indulging her curiosity about something not on their curriculum, and not centered on pleasing a partner.
“Uh-huh.” He relaxed against her desk, facing her, and stared pointedly at her chest, where her nipples were on high alert. “Looks to me like you were enjoying your research.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and lied. “It’s a little cool in here, that’s all.” The room felt hot—surface-of-the-sun hot.
Tyler laughed and pulled her to her feet. “Maybe we should crank up the heat a little?” Then he lowered his head and brushed his lips slowly, purposefully over hers. Her eyelids drifted down, and things definitely warmed up. Her breasts melted against the solid wall of his chest. Her stomach fluttered against his carved-from-granite abs. He slid his hand down her spine, pressing their lower bodies together until a moan vibrated in the back of her throat.
Tyler groaned and said something she didn’t catch, and then pulled away. She curled her hand around his neck and went onto her tiptoes in hot pursuit, but came up empty.
“Huh?” She forced her eyes open and stared at him.
He rested his hands on her shoulders, brought his forehead to hers, and gave her a slow, lazy smile. “We get any hotter, and I’m thinking our shopping trip won’t happen.”
She blinked. The shopping trip. How could she have forgotten? “Of course.” She straightened and ran an unsteady hand over her skinny black skirt. “We should get going.”
Tyler stepped aside and let her precede him. “That’s what I figured.”
“I’ll drive,” she said, struggling for some small measure of control. As usual, Tyler had fogged her brain the minute he’d aimed his devastating smile at her.
It had to stop. This wasn’t supposed to be about what she liked, or what drove her headlong into mindless pleasure—something he managed to explore with breathtaking results every single time she tried to complete her carefully planned lessons. The sensual vortex he sucked her into stirred up her hormones, but also, and more worrisome, her emotions. Maybe he wasn’t doing it intentionally, but all the seduction he directed her way threatened her focus. Her goal wasn’t to lose herself in Tyler Longfoot.
Absolutely not. What would be stupider than falling for Bluelick’s resident playboy? She needed his help perfecting the techniques she’d use to woo Roger. All she had to do was stick to her plan.
Frustrated with herself, Ellie turned and glanced at Tyler, who was now giving her an odd look.
She forced a casual laugh. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
He smiled back. “I said, ‘Whatever you want,’ Doc.”
Chapter Ten
Tyler had a hard time keeping up his end of the conversation, what with his life flashing before his eyes. Ellie steered them down Highway 68 toward Lexington, nearly giving him whiplash as she streaked in and out of traffic. Good thing she lived and worked in the same town, because Ellie on the open highway was an accident waiting to happen.
“Look,” she sighed. “There’s the Browning farm. I’ve always loved that place.”
“I’m trying to buy it.” The words spilled out of his mouth like a deathbed confession as she weaved between two S
UVs.
“For real? Like, fix it up and live there?”
He closed his eyes and nodded. “Fix it up and sell it.”
“I can’t wait to see the finished product. When do you start?”
“Soon as I get the construction loan. Unfortunately, Bluelick Savings has some reservations.”
“Why? Haven’t they seen your work? You’re the only person on earth who would do the place justice.”
Her faith in his skill humbled him, even more than her driving terrified him. He pried his eyes open and looked over at her. “Let’s just say they’re concerned about my risk profile,” which increased exponentially with every minute spent in her passenger seat. “Lenders don’t get too excited about forking over a couple million bucks to a guy who gets shot in a bar.”
“That’s unfair. You were the victim.”
“Nonetheless, it distracts from my expertise rehabbing historic structures. I need to show them I’m a stable, responsible investment.”
“I can’t believe this. You grew up here. You operate a successful business here. If that’s not stable, what is? The things you’ve accomplished took hard work and responsibility. If they can’t see that, there’s something wrong with them. Could you go to another bank?”
Her outrage smoothed out the worst of his ragged frustration. “I stand the best chance of getting the loan locally.” If I live that long, he silently added as she accelerated.
She said something in response, but her calm, utterly unconcerned voice faded under the pounding in his ears when she came up fast behind an eighteen-wheeler. He gripped the oh-shit handle and jammed his foot down hard on his imaginary brake as she swerved over the broken yellow center line, where another huge truck barreled down on them from the opposite direction. With seconds to spare before they became roadkill, she passed the rig and dropped her Mini back into their lane. He bit his lip to keep from screaming like a little girl.
His terrified lungs took a minute to unfreeze enough to let him suck in air. Once he resumed breathing, he heard Ellie ask, “Don’t you think?”
Private Practice Page 9
