Then he joined her and she was back where she wanted to be.
In Ty Donaldson’s arms.
Ty moved in a blur. A desire-driven blur.
One spurred on by a woman he foolishly hadn’t realized capable of such passion.
Ellie had passion.
He pressed his lips to her throat just so, and she moaned, spurring him on. He traced his hands down her body, touching places he’d carefully avoided while holding her on the dance floor.
“You are so hot,” he breathed against her throat, caressing his way to the sweet indention at her clavicle.
“Because you’re touching me,” she answered in a husky tone, her fingers threading through his hair, holding him to her. “That makes me feel hot.”
Somehow they made it into his apartment still dressed.
Once he closed the door and secured the lock, he made haste with her dress, letting it drop somewhere on the way to his bedroom.
He pushed her back onto his bed, loving how she looked lying there, watching him as he stripped off his clothes in record time.
“Wow,” she breathed, reaching her hand up to run over his abs. “You’re perfect, Ty.”
“You’re what’s perfect,” he corrected, joining her on the bed and pressing his body against hers. “So very perfect. See how you fit against me? Perfect.”
Her mouth and hands were all over him, leaving trails of goose bumps, making waves through his nervous system, rewriting his definition of pleasure.
Pushing her bra aside, he closed his lips around one pert nipple, then the other, taking turns laving her until she arched off the bed.
“Ty.” Her fingers cradled his head. He suckled harder, taking great pleasure in her breasts, in her passionate responses to his every touch.
“Tell me what you want, Ellie,” he encouraged, wanting to give her every pleasure, wanting to give her everything within his power to give. “Tell me where to touch you, how you want to be touched.”
For the briefest moment she stiffened in his embrace, her eyes searching his, then she relaxed and guided his mouth to hers.
She kissed him long, hard, deep, leaving him breathless.
“I. Want. You.”
He wanted her, too. He was pretty sure he told her somewhere during the time he stripped off her panties and then his boxers.
The way Eleanor’s eyes ate up his bare flesh set him afire, made him ache for her touch, for her body.
She looked at him as if she couldn’t wait another moment to feel him against her. To feel him inside her.
Maybe she couldn’t because she tugged on his shoulders, pulling him to her and wrapping her delectable legs around his.
Hands were everywhere.
Mouths were everywhere.
They touched desperately.
They touched with need, committing each other’s bodies to memory, learning every nuance, lighting fires that burned wickedly hot.
When Ty couldn’t stand another moment, he thrust deep between her welcoming thighs, plunging into almost blinding pleasure, knowing she’d rewritten much more than his definition of pleasure.
Ellie’s cry of satisfaction was everything.
CHAPTER SIX
WHAT HAD SHE DONE?
Not that Eleanor didn’t know.
She’d spent the night in Ty Donaldson’s bed. Now she knew exactly why all his exes smiled and thought he was the most awesome thing ever.
He was.
Wow.
She rolled over and looked at his sleeping form lit by the streaks of early-morning light. He was beautiful. Truly deep-down beautiful. One of God’s loveliest creations.
She wanted to reach out and touch him, to stroke her finger over the strong planes of his cheek, to feel the soft wisps of his hair, to feel the full softness of his lips. But she kept her hands to herself.
She wouldn’t risk waking him. No way did she want to see the disappointment that would dawn in his eyes when he realized what they’d done, who he’d spent his night with.
Then again, spending the night with a woman was no big deal for Ty. Just because it was something she never did, it didn’t make their night out of the ordinary for him.
To Ty, she was just another of a long string of women he’d made love to.
Had sex with.
Sure, with the way his hands and mouth had worshipped her body, she’d felt like she’d been made love to. But she wasn’t so naive as to not realize the truth.
Somehow she managed to get out of the bed without waking him. Desperate for a fast escape, she snatched a pair of way-too-big drawstring running shorts and a T-shirt from the floor, gathered her gown and clothing.
Her heart pounded faster, harder. So loud she couldn’t believe Ty didn’t wake. Maybe he only faked sleep because he didn’t want to face her any more than she wanted to face him. Maybe he wished she’d hurry and get out of his apartment.
The muscles in her chest tightened, squeezing her rib cage almost painfully. Her hands sweated so badly that she almost dropped her clothes.
She sucked in one last breath, storing the vision of the sheet draped low on his waist to memory, knowing that seeing him like this, his beautiful body relaxed and completely loved by her, would never happen again.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Oh, hell! Her heart pounding, Eleanor desperately dug in her purse for her cell phone, which was obviously still on vibration only. In the silence of the room the buzz sounded as if it should register on the Richter scale. She almost clicked the phone silent, then realized that the only calls she ever got in the early-morning hours were emergency calls. Her heart pounded all the harder.
“No need to leave the room,” a sleepy-sounding Ty drawled from behind her, causing her to freeze halfway to the door. “I’m awake.”
Eleanor’s pulse thrummed in her ears as she answered and listened to the caller. “I’ll be right there.”
She clicked her cell phone off. Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned to face him, dreading whatever she might see on his face in the early-morning light.
“Mornin’, darlin’,” he surprised her by drawling, his gaze taking her in as he scooted up in the bed. The bedsheet rode even lower on his hips, barely covering his impressive bottom half. His very impressive upper half shamed the six-pack fantasy she’d had of him. He patted the bed, motioning for her to climb in next to him. “From your end of the conversation, I figure that was the hospital. Before you go, give me a proper good-morning kiss.”
A proper good-morning kiss? As if she even knew what that was.
In her mind, she tossed everything she held on the floor and dived back into bed with him, smashed her lips to his, rubbed her body all over his until he gave her a proper good-morning everything.
But, um, she couldn’t do that.
So she cleared her throat and wished like crazy that she’d not lingered quite so long taking in how beautiful he was. Whereas he was gorgeous in the early-morning light, she imagined her hair was wild, her eyes puffy from lack of sleep, makeup smudged from not having been removed, and how sexy could she possibly be standing there in his too-big clothes?
She was just plain, ordinary Eleanor Aston, nothing like the glamorous women he was used to who probably gave him glorious mornings-after.