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Restless butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She glanced at him from under her lashes. “Yes.”
Two Longfoot strides brought them toe to toe. He simply stared at her for a moment, then raised his hand and swept her hair behind her shoulder. “All right, then. A deal’s a deal. Lesson one, Friday at seven. I’ll come to you.”
She swallowed, nearly choking on her own spit when his strong, capable fingers unerringly found the tight muscles at the base of her neck and began kneading. Reminding herself this was her idea, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll figure out the lesson plan.”
“You do that, Doc. In the meantime…pop quiz.”
“Huh—” That’s as far as she got before Tyler’s mouth settled on hers. Such a small contact, but once again, it gene
rated instant, addictive heat. She gasped when his tongue traced the sensitive curve of her upper lip. The move melted her bones. She leaned into his strong, warm body for support. His hands cruised up her back, and the calm, logical voice deep inside her mind clicked off. “Yes!” flashed behind her eyelids in big, neon letters.
With no oversight whatsoever from her brain, her hands dove into his hair and held on, held his amazing, devastating mouth still on hers. A low, needy cry echoed from somewhere in the tile-and-steel exam room. Belatedly, she realized the inarticulate plea emanated from her.
Apparently Tyler understood, because he cupped the back of her head in his big hand and sent his tongue on a deluxe tour of her mouth. Each touch, slide, or deep, penetrating exploration shot staggering sensations to every pulse point in her body. Those unsuspecting destinations sat up and took notice. Her nipples contracted and her bra suddenly felt way too small for her nowhere-close-to-double-D breasts. Tension coiled low in her abdomen. She fought the urge to rub her thighs together to relieve the pressure building there.
Somehow, miraculously, he knew about the pressure. He slid one big, muscular thigh between hers, grabbed her backside, and hauled her against him. She practically whimpered with gratitude.
“Hey, Ellie, have you seen my…whoops!” Melody’s voice reverberated in the silence.
Ellie broke away, shaken to the core by the unexpected interruption and her reaction to his kiss. No kisses had swept her away like Tyler’s. Ever. Had he felt the same intense…heck, she didn’t know what to call it…jolt of awareness, sensory recognition, bone-deep need?
Hard to say. His expression revealed only lazy amusement as he loosened his hold and let her slide slowly down his body, releasing her a few beats after her feet met the floor. Something mischievous flickered in his eyes and she immediately marched herself into a mental cold shower.
“I’m so sorry,” Melody said, sounding more intrigued than apologetic. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“No problem, Mel,” Tyler replied, completely unfazed. “I was just heading out. See you Friday, Ellie.” With a final, unnervingly knowing look, he walked out of the exam room.
Melody managed to hold her tongue until the main door closed, but not a second more. “Why, Sparky Swann!”
“What?” Ellie smoothed her hair and tried to act unruffled, but damp panties and perky nipples didn’t do much for her acting abilities. Her body reacted to his skill—nothing more. Researchers could probably explain how the combination of thick black hair, riveting green eyes, and a slow, confident smile provoked some cascade of estrogen designed to fool the female mind into confusing a simple kiss with a merging of souls.
“What do you mean, what? You’re not back in Bluelick a month and I find you making out after hours with big, bad Tyler Longfoot.” She folded her arms across her chest. “How long has this been going on?”
“Is it hot in here?” Ellie fiddled with the neckline of her blue-and-white-striped top, and then, still stalling, brushed her palms over her white linen pants. “There’s nothing going on. It’s not what you think. He’s just…” Lord, how was she supposed to explain this? “He’s assisting me with a personal project.”
Melody grinned. “Uh-huh, right. You couldn’t find your tonsils so he stopped by to help you look for them. Search to be continued this Friday. If you want my advice, you should have him hunt for something really important, like your G-spot.”
“Ha ha.” Melody’s teasing struck a little too close to home. “Somehow, during all the years we spent as classmates, I never noticed your smart mouth before.”
“You were blinded by my good looks. But don’t worry, Ellie.” Melody’s playful smile straightened. “I know how to keep things to myself. As far as I’m concerned, people’s personal lives are theirs to advertise or keep in confidence as they see fit. Nobody’s going to hear a word about you and Tyler from me.”
Determined to downplay the episode, Ellie scooted past Melody. “That’s a relief, considering there’s nothing to tell.”
“Oh, now, I don’t know about that. What I saw just saw between you and Tyler looked like a whole lot more than nothing.”
Chapter Five
Ellie looked around her bedroom and mentally reviewed her checklist. Clean sheets? Check. Condoms? Check. Five chapters carefully flagged in her fully illustrated copy of The Wild Woman’s Guide to Sex: Tactics Guaranteed to Bring a Man to His Knees? Check. Having studied the guide immediately upon its arrival—via rush delivery, in all its plain, brown-wrapped glory—she’d already employed one of the tactics. She turned to view her reflection in the oval mirror atop her antique oak dresser, slipped out of her robe, and took a detached inventory of the woman staring back at her, dressed for “action.”
A black satin-and-lace bra boosted her normally unremarkable cleavage to almost opulent proportions. The imported lace teased her nipples to points with every subtle shift of fabric. It was, quite possibly, the most uncomfortable garment she’d ever worn. No, wait…her gaze dropped. That honor belonged to the matching thong.
Hands on hips, she pivoted to check the rear view. The line of satin dividing her derriere looked to be in the proper place, and there was really only one reasonable path for it to take, but it felt like a wedgie waiting to happen.
Pivoting again, she faced the mirror. The guide advised aspiring wild women to make their peace with the push-up bra and butt floss because…ta-da…the combination brought men to their knees.
She shrugged on her robe and tied the belt. She didn’t care about all men, just Roger. He was definitely worth the discomfort. Besides, she didn’t have the natural advantages of a Melody Merritt or a Lou Ann Doubletree. She needed all the help she could get.
Thankfully, a big dose of “help” was due any moment in the form of Tyler Longfoot. The sound of a motorcycle approaching confirmed the thought, and caused a winged migration from her chest to her stomach. She grabbed a tube of gloss from the dresser and retouched her lips with an unsteady hand.
