Chapter 28

Sunday night - Ellie

Meg and Jeremy went out to eat. But Luke and I barely tasted dinner. Instead, we were on the couch in the sitting room in what felt like a matter of minutes. My hands in his hair and his right arm wrapped tightly around my waist, our lips melded together. This time, I was practically begging for him to pull off my shirt and lick me through my bra like he had in Miami. Only tonight I was hoping the bra would go too.

Somehow in Florida, we'd managed to keep from going to bed together. But it was not for lack of wanting to on my part. Since then, I'd been thinking about it all day. It only made sense to take this thing to the next level. Fine. Maybe we'd started out agreeing to just kiss, but clearly that was no longer tenable. I mean, I was about to explode, and I had to think Luke was there too if the size of his hard-on was anything to judge by. We'd had great intentions, but we were adults after all. Human adults. Not robots.

I forced myself to pull my mouth away from his, cleared my throat, and summoned up all my courage.

My breath was coming out in short pants and my arms remained locked around his neck. "Look, this is crazy. We both obviously want to go to bed together. Do you want to come up to my room?"

I expected him to let out a long deep breath and say, "Finally," or perhaps the equally acceptable, "Oh, hell yes." So, it caught me completely by surprise when instead he said, "No," with panic clearly etched on his face.

I sucked in my breath. For a second, I actually thought he was kidding. "What?" I hadn't even meant to say that word aloud. It had just come out.

"No, Ellie. God. I'm sorry."

For another second it felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. I rolled off his lap. Pushed myself away. Moved to the end of the couch. Wrapped my arms around my middle. I still couldn't process it. Not only had it been unexpected, but it hurt way more than it should have.

"Look, Ellie, don't get me wrong. I?—"

"No." The word came out much more forcefully than I'd meant it to. "I mean. No worries," I quickly corrected. I couldn't stand the thought of him giving me some lame excuse as to why he didn't want to sleep with me. I mean, the man was a known manwhore. But I was the one he was drawing the line with? That was painful. I knew he'd just give me another excuse about respecting me, and I didn't want to hear it. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Frick. I stared down at my knees, the pain in my chest throbbing as if the wind had been knocked out of me.

"Ellie, damn it. This is all my fault. I told myself on the plane ride home this morning that we had to stop this. But seeing you tonight. I'm weak. That's all there is to it. I'm sorry."

Oh, goddess. That was worse than what he'd originally said. He'd been wanting to cut things off all day? Oh, my goddess. Probably since last night. That was no doubt the reason he didn't invite me to his room last night. Where was the freakin' couch-swallowing button when a sister needed it?

I glanced over at him. He gave me doleful puppy-dog eyes, reminding me of the look his sister had given me barely over a week ago when she'd convinced me to come down here and give him a chance. Frick. This was on me. I'm the one who'd known better, and I'd gone ahead and given him—a known player—a chance to hurt me. It had taken this charming bastard only one week to blow past all my better judgement and defenses. I was the one who was weak. Not him.

"Don't get me wrong, Ellie. This has been fun, but—" Luke began to try again.

My head snapped to the side to face him. I'm positive my eyes were murderous. They felt murderous. "Oh, no. No way. You're not letting me down gently. We've been kissing and that's all. No big deal." I quickly stood and made my way to the door that led up the back staircase. The lump in my throat and the tears stinging the backs of my eyes told me it was a way bigger deal than I freakin' wanted it to be. But there was no way I was going to admit that to Luke after he'd just tried to let me down easy.

"Ellie, please," came Luke's voice. If he sounded a bit tortured, good.

"It's fine, Luke. No big deal." I would repeat those effing words until I believed them.

I didn't hear any more, thank heavens, because I was already on my way up the stairs to my room. This was my own fault. I never should have asked him to come to my room. It had been just kissing. Just kissing! We both understood that. We'd had many chances to take it to the next level, and we hadn't done it. On purpose. Yet here I was acting like a lovesick fool. I shouldn't have asked him to come to my room and, frankly, I shouldn't have been kissing him in the first place. The guy was a player. He'd always been a player and always would be a player. He'd been shut in his house with no access to women. Kissing me was probably inevitable for him. I'm the dummy who'd agreed to it, knowing full well that I am also the type of girl who can't just make out with someone and pretend it doesn't mean anything. That was on me.

When I got to my room, I locked the door and dramatically flung myself on my bed. Just like a teenager. I'd already been acting like one, making out with a boy on the couch. Might as well keep it up.

I rolled over and stared at the ceiling, totally disgusted with myself. What did I expect to happen? Rockabilly wasn't the guy for me. I knew that. And yet I'd gone and let a little kissing turn into hope. Fruitless, dumb hope. And what about all the freakin' money I'd spent on therapy? I was falling into the same old pattern again—falling for a player and thinking things would turn out different. I thought I was done with being attracted to players. To people who abandon me like—hello!—my mother. But no. Here I was again, with tears threatening to fall from my eyes and knots in my stomach so painful it felt as if I'd been punched.

Damn it. No. I refused to let this happen. I was no longer the twenty-two-year-old who found out about Vance with his latest fling. I was a grown-ass woman who'd spent more on therapy than I cared to admit, and I would not cry over this. Or make it a big deal. It was not a big deal. It was merely the universe reminding me of the things I already knew. Stay away from players, and don't go around kissing hot heartbreakers. Not all that difficult when you think about it. And yet…here I was, having trouble with it.

One thing was for sure. I wasn't about to go licking my wounds all the way back to Milwaukee. Luke would have nothing to worry about on that score. I was a professional. I had a patient to take care of. I'd agreed to it, and I'd promised Luke. I'd also signed papers. We would simply go back to the patient/nurse relationship we'd had the first couple of days I'd been here. I could handle it if he could. Grown-ass adult right here.

I took a deep breath. But from now on, anything involving Luke Knightley was strictly business. The kissing was through.