Holding back a chuckle, he used a finger to move her hair out of the way and looked at her. “You sure?”
Wide, vexed eyes stared back at him. He covered her hand with his and twisted the doorknob the other way. The lock mechanism released and the door opened. Reverse course, he ordered all the blood that had settled between his legs during the ride back to her place. Ellie was about to jump out of her skin, which only reinforced his original instinct to take things slow—way slower than her beloved lesson plan.
She stared at the door like she wanted to kick it, then exhaled and gave him a sheepish look. “Maybe I’m a little nervous.” Her eyes shifted away and she rambled on in what he was beginning to recognize as another sign of nerves. “I don’t know why. I mean, this whole thing was my idea. I have everything planned out, and I’m as prepared as possible. I’ve got the bedroom all set up.”
God, she really was adorable when she went all type A on him. “Invite me in for a drink, Doc.”
“Oh, right. Please come in.” She hurried inside and was halfway to the kitchen by the time he shut the door. Then she stopped in her tracks, and turned to him, all pink and flustered. “Would you like chardonnay, or…I’m sorry, I don’t have any beer. I received a bottle of Maker’s Mark as a housewarming present, if you prefer something harder?”
He was plenty hard already, thank you very much. But she definitely needed to unwind. “Bourbon’s fine, as long as I’m not drinking alone.”
Now she looked hesitant. “I don’t know. I already had a glass of wine with dinner and I’m not much of a drinker. I don’t want to get tipsy, because, despite alcohol’s entrenchment in the American mating ritual, depressants actually don’t do much for female performance. Male either, for that matter.” Heading to the kitchen, she added, “I should probably make yours with plenty of ice and water.”
Now he did laugh. There he stood, smack in the middle of her hallway with a hard-on like a steel joist in his jeans, and she was worried about him getting it up.
He wandered in to find her reaching into a high cabinet for the bourbon. Going over her head, he retrieved the bottle and placed it on the counter. “Don’t water down good bourbon. That’s a sacrilege. I don’t know about the other guys you’ve done this with, Doc, but I’m not gonna wilt after one drink.” Then a thought slammed into his head like a two-by-four and nearly knocked him off his feet. He took her chin and tipped her face toward his. “Ah, you have done this before, right?”
She frowned. “Of course.”
“More than once?”
Drawing herself up—all five feet and a handful of inches—she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the stern look that, for some twisted reason, made him want to do all kinds of depraved things to her. “Not that it’s any of your business, Tyler, but I’ve had sex plenty of times. I had a boyfriend during med school and another the final year of my residency.”
“Well, shit, Sparky. You be the teacher and I’ll be the student.”
“Ha ha.” She took two lowball glasses from another cabinet, added ice, and placed them on the counter.
He poured them each two fingers and capped the bottle. Then he picked up his glass, tapped it to hers, and took a sip. “So, with all this vast prior experience, what makes you think you need tutoring?”
She shrugged, but her eyes evaded his when she replied and he knew he wasn’t going to the get whole story. “My relationships were very, um, conventional, I guess. To be honest, sex wasn’t a huge priority, compared to classes and rounds. More like a study break—a nice way to relieve stress. But now, I want more. I want to deliver the fireworks and lightning you read about in novels.” She turned and stared uncomfortably out the window.
She thought sex was “nice”? Hmm. “These guys you were with, though…they got the job done for you, right?”
Her eyes flicked to his, then skittered away again. “Um, sort of?”
“Sort of? The question requires a yes or no answer, Doc.”
“It was hit or miss,” she replied briskly, but her tone told him better than words it was mostly miss. She gulped half her drink, slapped a hand to her chest as she swallowed, and added, “That’s not really my focus here, Tyler. I need to learn how to fulfill a man’s desires.”
Well, she had her focus, he had his. “Hit or miss” wasn’t his style. He put his drink aside and considered things for a moment. “I think your aim is fundamentally flawed.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“In my experience, which might be just a little bit broader than yours, if my partner isn’t having at least as much fun as I am, that’s kind of a mood killer.”
Her frown deepened and he wondered how he kept himself from sinking his teeth into that pouty lower lip. “According to the manual—”
“Let’s take a look at this manual of yours.”
“Fine.” She downed the rest of her drink and placed the empty glass on the counter. “Great, actually, as that gets us back on plan. Follow me.”
She wobbled on the turn. He caught her elbow and kept her on course as they made their way to her room. Once there, she walked to the brass bed, sat heavily on the fluffy white duvet, and shrugged out of her cardigan. The room struck him as pure Ellie—unique and unfussy, but unmistakably feminine. She favored light colors and wood accents. Gesturing to her nightstand, she smiled proudly. “I’ve got everything we need right here.”
“And then some,” he agreed as he took a seat beside her.
&
nbsp; “What do you mean?”