I wince, resisting my overwhelming temptation to put her straight, but I’ve done enough damage already. The reason Sophia is standing here, oozing self-righteousness, is because of me. The reason Miller is bleeding next to me is because of me.
I can feel Miller building up into maniac mode. ‘You have no idea what I’m capable of. I worship Olivia.’ His voice quivers under the anger fizzing beneath his cool exterior.
Her face screws up in disgust and she steps forward. ‘You’re a fool, Miller Hart. He’ll never let you walk away.’
He explodes.
‘I love her!’ he roars, knocking every person back in the room. ‘I fucking love her!’ Tears burst from my eyes and I fall into his side. He immediately grabs me and pulls me close. ‘I love her. I love everything she stands for and I love how much she loves me. It’s more than you love me. It’s more than any of you claim to love me! It’s pure and light. It’s made me feel. It’s made me want more. If any fucker tries to take her away from me, I’ll fucking kill them.’ Pulling up for a second, he gathers a long breath. ‘Slowly,’ he adds, shaking beside me, clinging to me tightly, like he’s afraid someone will try right now. ‘I don’t care what he says. I don’t care what he thinks he can do to me. It’ll be him sleeping with one eye open, Sophia, not me. So tell him. Fucking run to him and confirm what he already knows. I don’t want to fuck for a living anymore. Tell him I don’t want to line his pockets anymore. You’re not holding me to ransom. Miller Hart is out of the game. The Special One has quit!’ He withdraws and takes a few moments to suck in another calming gulp of air, while everyone looks at him, shocked. Including me. ‘I love her. Go to him. Tell him I love her. Tell him I’m Olivia’s now. And tell him if he even thinks about touching a hair on her precious head, it’ll be the last thing he ever does.’
We’re on our way out before I can gauge what we’re leaving behind, although I can imagine perfectly well. I can’t even process his violent declaration. His arm is draped around my shoulder, and it feels warm and comforting, but it goes nowhere near the sense of belonging that I feel when he has his signature hold of me. I wriggle free of him, making him look down at me, totally perplexed as we keep up our pace, and move his hand to the back on my neck. Then I coil my arm around his tight waist. He breathes a sigh of acknowledgement, returns his focus forward, and marches on.
The music is back, pumping through the speakers at every turn, but the elite clientele are far from back to normal. Crowds of people are gathered everywhere, huddled close, obviously discussing the earlier scene involving the club owner. It makes me think of something. ‘Do all of these people know who you are?’ I ask, feeling eyes begin to bore into us from every direction of the club as we emerge from the stairs.
He doesn’t look at me. ‘Some,’ is his straight, one-word answer, telling me he knows what I’m talking about, and it isn’t the fact that he owns this establishment.
The evening air collides with my body, sending instant shivers bolting through me. I snuggle farther into Miller’s side and catch the eye of one of the doormen. His mean face straightens as he watches Miller escort me from the premises and across the road where Miller’s Mercedes is parked. As I’m guided to the passenger door, I glance across to the front of the club, seeing the guy who Miller has just beaten to within an inch of his life being bundled into a taxi by another bouncer. I’m suddenly very worried. ‘He needs treatment,’ I say. ‘The doctors will ask questions.’
The door is opened and I’m gently pushed to the seat. ‘Those types of people don’t want the police involved in their affairs, Olivia.’ He pulls my seat belt across and buckles me up. ‘You’ve no need to worry.’ He plants a light kiss on my head and pushes the door shut, then pulls his phone from his pocket and makes a brief call as he rounds the car.
Those types of people.
This world.
It’s very real.
And I’m in the centre of it.
Chapter 12
The alcohol and exhaustion have caught up with me. My head is woozy and my legs are like jelly. As we’re walking through the lobby of his building, Miller scoops me into his arms and marches on. ‘Where you should be,’ he whispers, pushing his lips to my temple.
My arms twine around his neck and my head rests on his shoulder, my eyes closing, finally relenting to my tiredness. My weak request to be taken to Nan’s was refused. I didn’t argue. He needs calm, and I know his flat, with me inside of it, will bring him closer to achieving that.
Until we open the door again tomorrow morning.
The black shiny door welcomes us and is soon opened and kicked softly closed, locking the world outside. My eyes remain shut as I’m carried onward, the familiar clean smell of my surroundings settling me further. It’s not the fond scent of Nan’s house, but I’m happy to be here with Miller.
‘Can you stand for me?’ he asks, turning his face into mine. I nod and ease up on my grip, letting him gently place me on my feet. The concentration of his face holds me rapt as he undresses me slowly and carefully. All of the usual habits are here with us – the clothes being folded before he puts them in the laundry basket, his soft lips parted just so, his eyes swimming with emotion. Once he’s seen through his task, he looks to me in silent demand, so I step forward and begin to slowly strip him down, even folding his blood-stained suit before placing it in the basket, despite it being more at home in the bin. Seeing past the puncture wound and blood to allow my eyes to indulge in his perfection is impossible. His hands are covered in red stains, his chest, his jaw. I’m uncertain as to which blood belongs to Miller and which to the guy who appeared so unexpectedly from my sordid past. His timing couldn’t have been worse, though I doubt Miller’s reaction would have been any less violent had he materialised on any other occasion.
I reach up and gently prod around the site of the wound with my fingertip, trying to gauge whether it needs professional attention.
‘It doesn’t hurt,’ he says quietly, taking my hand away and placing it over his heart. ‘This is my only concern.’
Smiling a little, I step into his chest and lift myself to his body, wrapping my limbs around him, absorbing him. ‘I know.’ I murmur into his neck, savouring the feel of his overgrown waves tickling my nose and his harsh stubble on my cheek.
Strong hands slide onto my bum and his lean legs stride towards the shower. My back is pushed up to the tiles the moment we enter and he pulls back, denying my face the warmth of his neck. ‘I just want to clean us,’ he says, a slight frown on his face.
‘Elaborate.’ I’m delighted when I see his lip tip at one corner, his eyes developing a shimmer of playfulness.
‘As you wish.’ He reaches over and flicks the shower on, and the instant warm water rains down on us. His hair flattens on his head and the blood on his chest starts to pour away.
‘I do.’
He nods a little and reaches behind him to push my thighs from his waist before doing the same with my arms. I’m on my feet, my back resting against the wall, watching Miller closely. His palm meets the wall by my head and he leans in, his nose a millimetre from mine. ‘I’m going to glide my hands over every curve of your perfect body, Olivia. And I’m going to watch while you writhe and fight to contain your desire for me.’ His fingertip traces a burning path down my wet hip, onto my thigh. I’m struggling for control already, and he knows it.
I rest my head back, parting my lips to gather more air.
‘I’m going to pay extra special attention just here.’ Heat radiates through me when he strokes tenderly back and forth over my pulsing centre. ‘And here.’ His head drops to my chest and he sucks a tingling nipple into the warmth of his mouth.
I hold my breath and hit my head against the wall behind me, fighting my natural instinct to seize him, feel him, kiss him.
‘Tell me how it feels,’ he orders, clamping his teeth onto my nipple, sending a sharp shot of pain down to my core while his fingers glide back and forth, constantly and calmly. My
backside flies back in a lame attempt to escape the intense sparks of pleasure, but I wind up thrusting my hips forward, keen to capture the sensations and make them last forever.
‘Good.’ My voice is nothing but a husky, pleasure-fuelled gasp.
‘Elaborate.’
I start to shake my head, unable to fulfil his demand.
‘Do you want to touch me?’
‘Yes!’
‘Do you want to kiss me?’
‘Yes!’ I cry out, going to place my hand over his to increase the pressure on my clit, but finding the willpower from God knows where to stop myself.
‘Then take it all.’ It’s a demand, and only a second later, I’m attacking his mouth and my frantic hands are all over him. He bites my lip, so I bite him back, making him growl. ‘Do what the fucking hell you like to me, sweet girl.’
So I grab his cock and squeeze. It’s hard. It’s hot. He throws his head back and yells, his fingers working faster over my pulsing nerves, bringing me closer and closer, encouraging my own hand to fly over his shaft.
‘Shit!’ he gulps, and drops his head, his face contorting, his jaw tense, every feature razor sharp. My budding climax accelerates under the power of his eyes drilling into me and I begin to thrust my hips forward to meet his strokes.
He follows suit.
We watch each other as we bring each other to a head, me crying out constantly, Miller panting in my face. Drops of water are forming on his dark lashes, making his already heated eyes glisten wildly.
‘It’s coming,’ I shout, trying to concentrate on seizing the pleasure that’s about to send me dizzy while ensuring I maintain my strokes so Miller gets his release, too. ‘It’s coming!’
It’s all very urgent – my feet shifting to stabilise me, Miller pushing his body farther into me, our mouths clashing and working frantically. ‘Fucking come, Olivia!’
I do. His command sends me wild. I bite his tongue, dig my nails into his flesh, and squeeze his cock hard, feeling it throbbing harshly in my hold.
‘Ooooh, shiiiit,’ he groans, going limp and collapsing against me, pushing me into the wall. I feel the heat of his essence hitting my tummy even through the heat of the water. ‘Just hold it,’ he pants. ‘Don’t let go.’
I do as I’m bid, working him slowly down as I thrust my hips gently against his hand, my heart racing, my mind focused only on getting through my blitz of pleasure. He’s pinning me to the wall with his tall body and his face is buried in my neck. Our breathing is laboured and broken. Our hearts are clattering, bashing together from our compressed chests. And our worlds are perfect.
But just in this moment.
‘I’ve not touched us with any soap,’ he pants, rolling his fingers around my flesh, then slowly pushing into me. My eyes close and I squeeze my muscles around him. ‘Yet I feel we’re cleaner already.’
‘Take me to bed.’
‘And give you my thing?’ He nips at my throat and then sucks gently, nips and sucks.
I smile through my exhaustion and release my hold of his semi-erect cock, moving my arms to circle his shoulders. I muscle my face into his, until he’s forced to free my throat, and locate his lips. ‘I want every part of you touching me,’ I mumble past his lips. ‘Don’t let go of me all night.’
He groans and deepens our kiss, squashing me farther into the wall. The fluidity of our tongues circling softly together is effortless. I could kiss Miller Hart forever, and I know he feels the same. ‘Let me wash us down.’
My sense of loss is palpable when he pecks my lips and locates the shower gel. ‘Let’s see how fast you can do that,’ I tease.
He pauses from squirting the gel into his palm and flicks me a knowing look. ‘I like taking my time with you.’ The bottle is replaced in its rightful spot and he begins working some suds up in his palms. Standing before me, he breathes hot air into my face, then performs one of those lazy blinks of his blistering blue eyes. ‘You know that, Olivia.’
I hold my breath, slam my eyes shut, and brace myself for his hands. They start at my ankles – slow, tender rotations, swirling away the dirt of today. My mind spaces out as I absorb his heated touch leisurely working up my legs. No rush. And I’m happy with that.
‘What happens now?’ I finally ask the question I’ve been avoiding since we left Ice. We’re together, locked up safely in Miller’s flat, but it can’t stay this way forever.
‘I expect Sophia will be relaying to Charlie everything I said.’
‘Does Charlie know that Sophia is in love with you?’
He laughs lightly. ‘Sophia doesn’t have a death wish.’
‘Do you?’
He breathes in deeply and holds my eyes. ‘No, sweet girl. Now I have a fierce passion to live. You’ve given me that passion and not even the devil will stop me from having my eternity with my someone.’
I reach up and cup his cheek. ‘Is Charlie the devil?’
‘He’s close,’ he whispers.
‘And have you figured everything out?’
‘Yes.’ He sounds confident.
‘Will you tell me?’
‘No, baby. Just know that I’m yours and all this will be gone very soon.’
‘I’m sorry for making this harder.’ I say no more. He knows what I mean.
‘Knowing I have you at the end makes it easy, Olivia.’ Very tentatively, he reaches forward and pulls the tie loose from my hair, almost wincing when my once epic long hair only just falls past my shoulders. ‘Why?’ he whispers, combing through carefully, keeping his eyes on the hacked strands.
‘Don’t.’ I drop my head, feeling so incredibly remorseful, but not because I’m going to miss my masses of uncontrollable blonde but because I know Miller will miss them more.
‘How would you feel if I shaved my hair off?’
My head flies up, horrified. I love his hair. It’s longer now, the waves, when dry, all tousled and flicking out at his nape haphazardly and my favourite wayward curl that falls naturally onto his forehead . . . No, no, he can’t.
‘I’m being intuitive here,’ he breathes in my face. ‘And I’m going to suggest that by the look on your face, it would hurt deeply.’
‘Yes, it would.’ I can’t deny it, so I don’t. His beautiful hair is a part of this beautifully perfect man. Ruining any part of that would hurt. ‘But I wouldn’t love you any less,’ I add, wondering where he’s going with this.
‘Neither I you,’ he murmurs, ‘but you should know that I’m forbidding you to ever cut it again.’ He takes the shampoo and squeezes some on my head.
‘I won’t,’ I assure him. I don’t think I’ll ever pick up any scissors again after what I’ve done, and I mean to Miller, not to my hair. His hands delve into my remaining locks and my eyes fall to the puncture wound on his shoulder.
‘I don’t just mean you.’
I’m suddenly frowning at his chest, but he turns me to face the wall so I’m unable to show him my confusion. ‘What do you mean?’ I ask as he works my hair into a lather.
‘Ever,’ he says short and sharp – no elaboration. I’m turned back and positioned under the spray so he can rinse.
‘Ever what?’
He doesn’t look at me, just continues with his task, unaffected by my perplexity. ‘I forbid you to ever have your hair cut again. By anyone.’
‘Ever?’ I blurt, shocked.
A straight face falls to mine. I know that face. He’s adamant. He’s adding my hair to his list of obsessive ways. He may have surrendered a few, but he’s going to make up for them with others . . . like my hair. ‘That’s what I said, isn’t it?’ He’s deadly serious. ‘I realise it might sound unreasonable, but that is what I want, and I’d like you to accept.’
I’m stunned by his arrogance, though I really shouldn’t be. I’ve encountered it plenty of times before. ‘You can’t demand what I do with my hair, Miller.’
‘Very well.’ He shrugs nonchalantly and sweeps some shampoo through his waves before rinsing himself.
‘Then I’ll have all of mine shaved off.’
My eyes widen at his threat, but I soon rein in my exasperation, knowing one thing and one thing for sure. ‘You love your hair as much as I do,’ I declare confidently . . . smugly.
Some conditioner is passed through the waves he loves so much, casually and quietly, while I remain propped up against the shower wall, matching his arrogance. He dips under the showerhead, washing it all out before sweeping it back neatly. My smile increases. He’s thinking hard about this, and when he’s taken a deep breath, he confronts my amusement. His hand meets the wall by my head, his face coming close to mine. ‘Are you prepared to risk that?’ His lips ghost over mine, and I turn my face away cockily.
‘Maybe.’
I feel the heat of his skin meet my breasts from his quiet laugh that has his chest expanding. ‘OK,’ he breathes into my ear. ‘I promise to shave my hair off if you so much as look at a hairdresser.’
I pull in a shocked gush of air and turn my face back to his, finding high, daring eyebrows. ‘You wouldn’t.’
‘Try me.’ His lips push to mine and I’m momentarily blindsided by his worshipful mouth. ‘There are many things I’ve changed since I’ve fallen in love with you, Olivia Taylor.’ He nibbles at my lip and my heart soars with happiness. ‘Don’t think I won’t fulfil that promise.’
He loves me. I didn’t pay much attention when he bellowed it at Sophia at Ice – either not believing it or not processing it. But now the words resonate through my core, filling me with warmth. ‘I don’t care,’ I announce. ‘You’ve just told me you love me. Do whatever you like.’
He laughs. He actually laughs, head thrown back, eyes glistening madly, body shaking uncontrollably. I’m rendered incapable of anything. Even breathing. I watch in silent wonder at my beautiful man falling apart before me, shaking my head, close to tears. ‘Olivia,’ he coughs, picking me up and cradling me in his strong arms. ‘I’m always telling you that I love you.’