‘Look at me.’ The pad of his finger slips under my chin and raises my face to his. I’m immediately consumed with blazing eyes and soft parted lips. ‘Never with you,’ he says slowly, quietly, holding my eyes like magnets.
I knew that. Our horrid hotel encounter needs to be forgotten. That wasn’t my Miller. ‘I love you,’ I tell him on a quiet gush of air, slipping my arms under his and melding into his torso, my cheek lying on his shoulder. He responds with an almost undetectable groan and takes me to my back, the length of his body pinning me to the bed. ‘You’ll be all crumpled,’ I muse, ruffling his hair and trying to push my rendezvous with William away. All of those years I wished for an explanation, went to epic lengths to find it, and now I’ve stumbled upon it and I wholeheartedly wish I hadn’t.
‘It could be worse.’ He nips at my neck, the hot pressure of his mouth sending me on a little writhe.
‘How?’ Miller’s obsession with his appearance is definitely lessening, and while it should please me immensely that some of his uptight, picky ways are evidently easing up, I can’t figure out why I seem to be more bothered by his waning care than he does.
‘We could be scheduled to eat out.’
My brow furrows, but he continues before I can ask what on earth he’s talking about.
‘Luckily, your lovely grandmother has offered to feed us.’ He pushes up on his forearms and looks down at me, a cunning glint in his eyes. I know what he’s looking for and I won’t disappoint him. I roll my eyes.
‘Did she pin you down until you agreed?’
‘Not necessary.’ Miller drops a lazy kiss on my lips and rises, the shift pushing his hips into my lower stomach. My eyes widen and moisture bombards my centre. Now that I have emptied my mind of unwanted burdens, there’s room for something else. Something appealing.
Desire.
Nibbling my bottom lip, I reach up to his shoulders and smooth down the sleeves of his suit jacket, the feel of tight muscle beneath only heightening my growing wanton state. He shakes his head slowly, definitely, unwaveringly, and I deflate on an annoyed huff of breath. ‘Control yourself, then.’ I tip my hips up and spike a sharp inhale of breath from him, followed up with a poor attempt to scowl at me. I grin and repeat. Of course, this only teases me further, too, but Miller’s struggle to contain himself ignites a childish rebellion in me. I flip up again and watch on a laugh as he jumps off the bed and starts brushing himself down and pulling at his jacket.
‘Really, Olivia?’
I sit up, a wicked grin on my face. ‘It’s always on your terms,’ I state, resting my chin in my palm and my elbow on my knee. He’s still busy rearranging himself, choosing to answer without looking at me.
‘It’s a good job, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘It’s polite to look at someone when they’re talking to you.’
Frantic hands halt in their fussing and an impassive face slowly rises to mine. ‘It’s a good job, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘No, I wouldn’t.’ Images of a gym, a paint studio, and cars jump all over my mind. At least there’s a bed here. And it’s my bedroom. I slide off the mattress and pace slowly and purposely over to him. He watches me, standing silently, almost cautiously, until my chest is pushed into his. I lift my eyes to his mouth. Hot, lusty air streams from parted lips, fuelling my hunger, swelling my confidence. ‘I won’t make it through dinner,’ I warn, flicking my eyes to his.
‘I won’t disrespect your grandmother, Olivia.’
My eyes narrow and a conniving hand stretches forward and brushes over his groin. He jumps back. I move forward. ‘Don’t be so uptight.’
Strong hands circle my upper arms and a face full of frustration lowers to mine. ‘No,’ he says simply.
‘Yes,’ I retort, struggling out of his hold and cupping him over his trousers. ‘You’re the one who’s unleashed this need, so you’re under obligation to remedy it.’
‘Fucking hell!’
I inwardly cheer, knowing I have him. He can’t make me endure another dinner at Nan’s table when I’m in this condition. I’ll spontaneously combust. ‘Loosen up.’
‘Give me strength, Olivia.’ He knocks my hand away from his groin and tackles me to the bed, the frame squeaking, the headboard smacking the wall behind. My victory fills me with unreasonable pride. My lips press together and my eyes clench shut as he circles deliciously into me, the friction having me trying to shift my legs beneath him to alleviate the pressure building between my thighs. My actions earn me more restraint. He nails my wrists to the mattress. ‘You want me?’ he breathes in my face, gently thrusting forward, pushing the bated breath from my lungs. I cry out, my eyes flying open. Dark lashes greet me, framing intoxicating blues. ‘Don’t make me ask you again.’
‘Yes!’ I yelp at the delivery of another calculated thrust, feeling him solid beneath the material of his trousers. Dizziness overwhelms me and the room starts spinning wildly, yet Miller’s perfect face is still perfectly clear before me. ‘Miller,’ I pant, loving and hating his control over my body all at once.
Smug satisfaction plagues his features. And then he pushes himself off me and sets about sorting his suit out again. ‘Come. Your grandmother has gone to a lot of trouble.’
My mouth falls open in utter disbelief. ‘You’re not . . .’
‘Oh, I am.’ He collects me from the bed and begins to make me look presentable while I stand unequivocally dumbstruck by his underhanded game. He’s solid. It must be painful, because I know that I’m suffering. He brushes my wild hair over each shoulder, looking satisfied with the result. ‘Your cheeks are flushed,’ he says, his voice loaded with smugness.
‘How—’ His finger meets my lips to hush me before he replaces it with his lips, escalating my sexed-up condition. ‘Just think how much more you’ll enjoy me later when I can take my time with you.’
‘You’re unbelievably cruel,’ I whimper, throwing my arms around his neck and tackling his wonderful mouth, desperate to get all I can before he wrestles me off him.
He doesn’t prise me away, instead lifting me from my feet and carrying me to the door while returning my kiss, accepting my tongue dancing wildly in his mouth and moaning his appreciation as he does. In an attempt to trap him further, I curl my thighs around his tight hips and arch my spine, sealing our chests and balling my fists in his hair. I hum, I whimper, I sigh. My head tilts, my mouth tracks the lines of his lips, and my teeth bite down in between plunges of my tongue. This isn’t improving my thirst, but if it’s all I’m getting for the time being, then I’m making the most of it. My eyes are closed and Miller’s palms are cupping my bottom, squeezing, massaging and smoothing as he takes the stairs down to the hallway. My time’s running out.
‘Olivia,’ he pants, breaking our mouth contact.
‘Nuh-uh,’ I moan, pushing into the back of his head, reattaching my lips to his.
‘Jesus, you’re ruining me.’
Through my dizziness, I register the stupidity of such a statement. ‘Take me to your place,’ I beg, knowing I’m pleading in vain. Miller’s far too polite to stand my grandmother up. I can smell a hearty meal, something stodgy simmering upon the stove, and I hear Nan singing chirpily in the kitchen.
‘She’s gone to too much trouble.’ He peels me away from his suit and sets me on my feet, tugging my top into place. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’ His eyes drop to my too-flat stomach.
‘Not really,’ I concede. There’s no room in my brain to register hunger.
‘We need to resolve this appetite issue,’ he quips curtly, ‘before you disappear before my eyes.’
‘There’s no issue.’ I reach up and take Miller’s tie, jiggling with the dislodged knot for a short time before I’m happy that it’s straight and tidy. ‘I eat when I’m hungry.’
‘Which is when?’ He throws me an expectant look as he removes his jacket and hangs it on the coat hooks before he turns into the mirror and undoes what I’ve just spent thirty seconds of my time perfecting. His bac
k broadens with the position of his hands at his neck, the material of his waistcoat pulling taut. I sigh my appreciation. ‘We need to get you to the doctor’s.’
His statement yanks me back to the here and now, having me look up to a serious face. ‘I’ve been,’ I whisper.
He can’t hide his shock. I love that I can spike all of these emotions from him, but not now. ‘You went without me?’
My shoulders jump up a little, displaying detachment. ‘The receptionist said it’s best to take the morning-after pill as soon as possible, and they only had an available appointment this morning.’
‘Oh.’ He drops his hands from his tie, looking uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t want you to have to do it alone, Olivia.’
‘I swallowed a pill.’ I smile, trying to lighten him up. He feels guilty.
‘And birth control?’
‘Done.’
‘Have you started?’
‘On the first day of my next period.’ I definitely remember that part, but not much else.
‘Which is when?’
I mentally sprint through my cycle, frowning to myself. ‘Three weeks.’ This won’t please him. I only just had a period while Miller was . . . absent.
‘Excellent,’ he says, all formal, like he’s just secured a profitable business deal. I roll my eyes and ignore his inquisitive look.
‘And before you ask, yes, there’s a need for insolence.’
His lips purse and his blistering blue eyes narrow slightly. ‘Sass,’ he whispers, making me smile. ‘I would have come.’
‘I’m a big girl.’ I brush off his concern with ease, despite it being entirely his fault that I wound up in that position. It won’t happen again. ‘And, anyway, you did come.’ I grin, trying to ease his guilt. ‘Inside me.’
He matches my grin. ‘Double sass.’
Footsteps interrupt us and Nan appears, her jolly face jollier than normal, and I know it’s because Miller is here and he’s agreed to let her feed him. ‘Hotpot!’ she sings, delighted. ‘I didn’t have time for anything more extravagant.’
Miller rips his eyes from mine and pivots on his expensive shoes. Nan’s delight increases, even if she’s lost the lovely view of Miller’s buns. ‘I’m sure that whatever you’ve decided on, it’ll be just perfect, Mrs Taylor.’
She flaps a tea towel at Miller, all bashful and giggly. ‘I’ve laid the table in the kitchen.’
‘Had I known we’d be eating together, I would have brought something,’ Miller says, taking my nape and encouraging me to follow Nan to the kitchen.
‘Nonsense!’ Nan laughs. ‘Besides, I still have the champagne and the caviar.’
‘With hotpot?’ I ask on a frown.
‘No, but I doubt Miller would have brought a barrel of cheap ale to slurp.’ Nan flips her hand, indicating a chair. ‘Sit.’
My chair is pulled out for me and tucked back under once I’ve taken my seat. His mouth meets my ear. ‘How fast can you eat hotpot?’
I ignore him and concentrate on soaking up the heat of his breath in my ear, probably a stupid thing to do, but it doesn’t matter how fast I can eat because Miller’s manners prevent him from scoffing down food.
He takes his seat next to me and gives me a salacious smirk, just as a huge pot lands in the centre of the table. I inhale the smell of meat, veggies and potatoes. And grimace. I’m not in the least bit hungry, only for the infuriating male seated next to me.
‘Where has George got to?’ Nan gripes, looking impatiently down at her watch. ‘He’s five minutes late.’
‘George is joining us?’ Miller asks, nodding at the steaming pot, his instruction for me to dive in. ‘It’ll be nice to see him again.’
‘Hmmm, it’s not like him to be late.’
She’s right. He’s usually sitting at the table armed with his knife and fork in plenty of time to be the first into the pot. Unfortunately, I get the pleasure today. I take the serving spoon with as much enthusiasm as I feel and plunge it into the middle, wafting the smell into the air surrounding us.
‘Smells delicious,’ Miller informs Nan, keeping his eyes on me. I’m not sure how much I can stomach, but with Nan and Miller both taking a vested interest in my eating habits, I’m destined to struggle my way through a whole bowl.
The chime of the doorbell saves me. ‘I’ll get it.’ I drop the spoon and lift my bum from the chair, only to be pushed back down.
‘Allow me,’ Miller interjects, taking the serving spoon and transferring a heaped spoonful into my dish before he makes off down the hallway.
‘Thank you, Miller,’ Nan croons, smiling brightly. ‘Such a gentleman.’
‘Some of the time,’ I mutter under my breath, collecting the serving spoon and piling Miller’s bowl high until it’s near to overflowing.
‘Is he hungry?’ Nan asks, her old eyes following the spoon travelling back and forth from the pot to Miller’s dish.
‘Starving,’ I declare, silently smug.
‘Save some for George. He’ll blow a gasket if he doesn’t get at least two helpings.’ She peeks into the pot, noting the remaining contents.
‘There’s plenty.’
‘Good. Tuck in.’ She waves her finger at my bowl, and I wonder where the table etiquette has disappeared to – the one where we wait for everyone to start together. Nan glances down the hallway on a wrinkle of her brow. ‘Do you think he got lost?’
‘I’ll go.’ I jump up, anything to delay eating, hoping by some miracle I’ll find my appetite while I’m finding Miller and George. Showing no urgency, I stroll down the hallway, catching a glimpse of Miller’s back as the door closes behind him.
‘What do you want?’ I hear him spit on an attempted hush. It’s a mega fail.
It takes me only a split second to figure that whoever rang the doorbell wasn’t George. They would be back at the table by now, and Miller wouldn’t be asking that question in such a vicious tone. My pace quickens and so does my heart. I take the door handle and pull, but it shifts only millimetres, the resistance increasing slightly under my tug. I don’t want to shout at him and attract Nan’s attention, so I wait a few moments until I feel the resistance ease up; then I throw all of my might into yanking it open. It works. Miller staggers slightly from his unexpected loss of grip, his hair falling onto his brow, his shocked blues darting to me.
‘Olivia.’ He hardly contains his sigh of exasperation as he steps towards me and slides a palm onto my nape. Then he shifts to the side, revealing the mystery guest.
‘Gregory,’ I breathe, delighted and cautious all at once. This isn’t ideal. I would never have chosen to try and repair our friendship with Miller around, but he’s here now and there’s nothing I can do about it. Gregory’s ticking jaw isn’t a good sign that his tolerance of Miller has improved, and Miller’s buzzing form touching mine indicates the same response to my friend.
‘Nice and cosy,’ Gregory grinds out with scathing eyes roaming from Miller to me.
‘Don’t be like that,’ I say softly, attempting to move towards him and getting nowhere. Miller isn’t releasing me, come hell or high water. ‘Miller, please.’ I twist out of his hold and get growled at for my trouble.
‘Forget it, Olivia.’ He reclaims me and I glance up, seeing murder etched all over his face. I don’t need this. ‘What do you want?’ Miller’s tone is soaked in threat.
‘I want to speak to Olivia.’ Gregory states his request on a snarl, matching Miller’s fieriness. They’re like two wolves in a staring stand-off, heaving and gnashing jaws, each one getting ready to attack, except I’m not sure which one will lose their control first. Gregory’s bravado is commendable.
‘Then speak.’
‘Alone.’
Miller’s head shakes mildly, confidently, supremacy oozing from every pore of his refined physique. ‘No,’ he says on a whisper, but the near-silent word is loaded with determination – no raised volume necessary.
Gregory rips his brown eyes from Miller and they land on me with
a contemptuous bang. ‘Fine, you can stay,’ he relents, the vein in his neck throbbing.
‘That’s not up for negotiation,’ Miller clarifies.
My best friend doesn’t bless Miller with a disdainful look, instead keeping cold eyes on me. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, with zero sincerity, his face holding the look of indifference that’s been apparent since I clapped eyes on him. He doesn’t appear or sound sorry in the slightest, yet I’m willing him to be. I want to apologise, too, but for what I don’t know. I don’t think I have anything to be remorseful for. Nevertheless, I’ll willingly offer up an apology if it means I’ll get Gregory back. I may have been distracted since our altercation, but he’s not been around and it’s been gnawing on my conscience. I’ve missed him terribly.
‘I’m sorry, too,’ I whisper, ignoring Miller’s increased breathing and twitching beside me. ‘I hate this.’
I watch as his face drops to match his broad shoulders. He slips a hand into his jeans pocket, his work boots scuffing the pathway beneath. ‘Baby girl, I hate this, too, but I’m here for you.’ He lifts tortured eyes to mine. ‘You need to know that.’
Happiness floods me, the hugest weight lifting from my tired shoulders. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he replies, and then removes something from