Now.
Here.
Me.
Our eyes are stuck. Nothing will pull them apart. And when he slowly closes the small remaining gap between us and kisses me tenderly, I still don’t lose his blues. I keep my eyes wide open and so does he. His kiss is brief but loving. It’s worshipful. ‘I love you,’ he whispers, returning upright, still never allowing his gaze to wander.
I smile, keeping myself braced on one arm and using the other to reach forward. I skim his bristly cheek with my fingertip as he continues to regard me closely.
‘Put your hand back on the desk.’ His instruction is soft but firm, and I fulfil it without delay. I know full well what his intention is. I can see it past the softness of his eyes. Desperate hunger.
He takes a deep breath, making his chest expand beneath the material of his suit.
I take in air, too, holding it, preparing, silently willing him on.
Beautiful, lush lips straighten and his head shakes slowly in wonder. ‘I love you so, so much.’
Then he pounds into me on a guttural bark.
I scream, my lungs bursting and allowing every scrap of air I’ve contained to escape. ‘Miller!’
He freezes against me, holding us close, filling me to the maximum. Just that one powerful pound of his body into mine has us both gasping for breath. There’s so much more to come, so I gather the depleted air and take the few seconds he’s giving me to prepare for his attack as he twitches and jerks within me.
It happens faster than I anticipated. I get a few seconds of painful torture as he pulls out of me slowly before he totally lets loose. He’s unforgiving. Our bodies smash together over and over, creating the most wonderful sounds and sensations – our shouts of mind-bending pleasure saturating the large office, the feel of us both uniting sending me to that place beyond pleasure. My mind spaces out and my focus remains solely on accepting his brutality. I’m sure there will be bruises when we’re through, and I don’t even care.
I want it harder. Faster. I’m craving more. More Miller. I bunch his suit jacket in my fists and hang on for dear life. Then I push my mouth to his and tackle his tongue. He needs to know I’m OK. He wants to fuck me but worship me. He wants the things that make us us. Touching. Tasting. Loving.
‘Harder,’ I shout into his mouth, just so he knows I’m fine with this. I’m loving it. Everything about it – the strength of him, his merciless taking of me, his claiming of me, where we are . . .
‘Oh sweet Jesus, Livy.’ His mouth moves to my neck. He bites and sucks, my head falls back as my hold of him moves to his shoulders, and he doesn’t falter one . . . little . . . bit. The speed of his advancing hips picks up a gear. Or two. Could possibly be three. ‘Fuck!’
‘Oh God!’ I yelp, feeling the rush of blood hurling to my centre. ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God! Miller!’ My hearing is muffled, my mind distorted, and I finally give up and close my eyes, leaving me blind, too. Now all I have is feeling. Lots of feelings. ‘I’m coming!’
‘Oh yes! Come for me, sweet girl.’ His face emerges from my neck and he tackles my mouth, impatiently pushing his tongue past my lips when I fail to open up to him. I’m too focused on the orgasm powering forward. It’s going to blow my world into pieces.
I begin to panic when I get stuck at a point of no return, yet not seeming to be able to capture my release. I tense everywhere. I’m rigid in his arms, only moving because of Miller’s control of our bodies. He strikes me over and over, yanking my body onto his while our mouths attack each other violently. But it won’t happen. I can’t get there, and my frustration explodes. ‘Fucking harder!’ I yell in desperation. ‘Make it happen!’ I reach up and boldly yank at his hair, making him shout as he hammers forward.
But he stops. Abruptly. My rage only multiplies by a million when he smirks at me. He’s watching me gasp unevenly all over him, feeling me squeeze him within me. He’s ready to explode, too. I can see it past the smug satisfaction of his gaze. But I’m not sure if that satisfaction is because he has me going out of my mind or because he has me on William’s desk.
The sheen of sweat glistening on his brow diverts my attention there momentarily . . . until he speaks, pulling my eyes back to his. ‘Say I’m yours,’ he orders quietly.
My pounding heart pounds harder. ‘You’re mine,’ I tell him with one hundred per cent conviction.
‘Elaborate.’
He’s holding me on the cusp of orgasm, holding us tightly together, his groin pushed against my sex the only thing keeping me there. ‘You. Belong. To. Me.’ I spell it all out for him, loving the glint of gratification that replaces the smugness. ‘Me,’ I affirm. ‘No one else gets to taste you, feel you –’ I cup his cheeks with my palms and press my lips to his, biting down a little before licking my mark – ‘or love you.’
A long moan emanates from my part-time gentleman. A happy moan. ‘Correct,’ he murmurs. ‘Lie back, sweet girl.’
I comply willingly, releasing his face and dropping to my back as I look up at him. He smiles, that glorious, dizzying smile, then circles his groin deeply and slowly, pushing me instantly over the edge. ‘Ooooh,’ I sigh, and close my eyes, my hands delving into my blonde and holding my head as it shakes from side to side.
‘I concur,’ Miller moans, shuddering above me before quickly pulling out and resting his length on my stomach. It’s only then that I realise he’s not wearing a condom.
He comes all over my tummy, his cock pulsing as it releases, and we both watch quietly.
I don’t need to say what we both know. There was no room in his consumed mind to think of protection when he pushed me into William’s office. He was thinking only of marking what’s his in the office of one of his nemeses.
Perverse? Yes. Do I care? No.
He slowly lowers his body over mine and pins me to the desk, seeking out that place on my neck he loves, nuzzling lovingly. ‘I’m sorry.’
The small smile that tickles my lips is probably as perverse as Miller’s unreasonable actions. ‘It’s . . .’
The slamming of a door resonates through the room, cutting me short, and Miller’s face slowly lifts from my neck until he’s staring down at me. The calculating smile that slowly graces that lovely mouth of his makes me bite my lip to prevent mirroring it.
Oh, God help us!
‘You arsehole.’ William’s rich voice is loaded with venom. ‘You fucking immoral arsehole.’
My eyes widen as the enormity of our situation bashes past the sick satisfaction I’m feeling. Although Miller’s sly grin remains firmly in place. He dips and kisses me chastely. ‘It was a pleasure, sweet girl.’ He lifts from my body, keeping his back to William to conceal me as he fastens his trousers. He smiles down at me, and I know it’s his way of saying not to worry. He pulls my knickers into place and arranges my dress, which is a good job because I’m arrested by anxiety, unable to make myself decent. Then he pulls me from the desk and steps to the side, exposing me to the potent anger pouring from William’s powerful frame.
Oh shit, he looks homicidal.
William’s lip curls in disgust. He’s physically shaking. And now I am, too. Not Miller, though. No. He ignores the rage and calmly pulls a chair out and turns me, pushing my unresponsive body onto the seat. ‘My lady,’ he says, making me cough at his continued arrogance. He has a death wish. He must.
I stare blankly forward and start nervously spinning my diamond on my finger, and in my peripheral vision, I see Miller making an over-the-top meal of smoothing his suit down before he takes a chair next to me. I cast him an edgy glance. He smiles. And he winks! He actually winks, making my hand shoot to my mouth as I start to snort all over the place. I try so hard to contain my giggles, try to disguise my laugh as a coughing fit. It’s such a waste of energy. There’s nothing funny about this situation. There wasn’t before Miller violated me on William’s desk, and there most definitely isn’t now. We’re both in big, big trouble. Double than what we were before we arrived.
; I remain stiff and pipe down when I hear the sound of footsteps closing in, while Miller makes himself comfy, relaxing back, resting his ankle on his knee and sliding his hands down the arms of the chair. William rounds the desk, pulling my wary eyes in their sockets to follow his path. The atmosphere is just . . . horrible.
Lowering slowly to his chair, keeping pissed off grey eyes on a blasé Miller, he finally speaks. But William’s words stun me.
‘Your hair’s different.’ He turns to me, taking in my new hair, which is most likely a sexed-up mess now. My face feels damp, my body still buzzing.
‘I had it cut,’ I reply. Now that he’s turned his contempt onto me, I can feel my sass igniting.
‘By a hairdresser?’
My body starts to shift awkwardly. This isn’t good. People usually have their hair cut by a hairdresser – it goes without saying – so the fact that he’s asked doesn’t sit well. ‘Yes.’ I’m not lying. I did have my hair cut by a hairdresser . . . the morning after I hacked it off myself.
William’s hands form a steeple in front of his mouth as he watches me continue to fidget and avoid his eyes. I’m soon spared his glacial stare and words, though, when he turns them onto Miller. ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’ He’s injected some heat into his tone now, and I chance a glance at him, wondering if he’s questioning what he’s just found or what he undoubtedly knows of last night’s events at Ice.
Miller clears his throat and reaches up to casually dust his shoulder down. It’s an indifferent act and meant to be. He’s pushing William’s buttons, and while I’m guilty of doing this on many occasions, I’m not sure now would be the time. I contained my sass . . . just. Miller needs to rein his impudence in, too. ‘She’s mine,’ he says, looking up to William. ‘I’ll do with her as I please.’
I shrink in my chair, astounded by his pure egotism at such a delicate time. He’s the one who claims we need William’s help, so why the hell is he being such a twat? Rub along just fine? Sure! I know he has a strange way with words. I’ve come to accept it, but that statement is clearly designed to rile William further, and when I brave a peek at my mother’s ex-pimp and see steam virtually bursting from his ears, it’s very obvious, very quickly, that he’s succeeded.
William shoots up from his chair and smashes his palms down on the table, leaning forward, his face twisted with anger. ‘You’re a fraction away from being crushed, Hart! And I’m putting myself in the middle of this fucked-up situation to make sure that doesn’t happen!’
I fly back in my chair to put as much distance between me and William – a vain attempt to dodge the violent vibes shooting from his heaving body. This situation is getting more unbearable by the second. Miller slowly rises from his seat and mirrors William’s pose. It’s about to get worse. I’m not mistaking Miller’s calm, fluid move as a sign of control. His ticking jaw and wild eyes say otherwise. I’m frozen and useless while these two powerful men have a face-off.
‘You know as well as I do that I can and will break every bone in each of their parasite bodies.’ He practically whispers the words in William’s face, his shoulders pulsing steadily . . . almost calmly. ‘Make no mistake, I won’t think twice, and I’ll be laughing my way through it.’
‘Fuck!’ William curses, his hand flying out and grabbing Miller’s shirt at his throat, bunching it tightly and pulling him closer. I jump up in shock, yet I don’t shout at them to stop. No words are forming.
‘Let . . . go . . . of . . . me.’ Miller speaks slowly and concisely, his tone dripping in ferocity. ‘Now.’
Both men hold still for what seems like forever, until William curses again and shoves Miller back before plummeting to his arse and dropping his head back to look up to the ceiling. ‘You’ve really fucked up this time, Hart. Sit down, Olivia.’
My bum meets the chair fast, not prepared to cause further problems, and I look to Miller, watching as he straightens out his shirt and fiddles with the knot of his tie before taking a seat. I feel a stupid sense of relief when he reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing tightly, his way of telling me he’s fine. He’s in control. ‘I assume you’re referring to yesterday evening.’
A sarcastic laugh spills from William’s mouth and his head drops, his eyes flicking between me and Miller. ‘You mean as opposed to you marking what you think is your territory in my office?’
‘What I know.’
Oh, good God! ‘OK, stop!’ I shout, swinging my exasperation onto Miller. ‘Just cut it out!’ Both men retreat in their chairs, surprise evident on their annoyingly handsome faces. ‘Enough of the macho bullshit, please!’ I yank my hand free from Miller’s, but he quickly reclaims it, bringing it to his mouth and resting his lips on the back, kissing it repeatedly.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says sincerely.
I take a deep breath, then direct my attention on William, who’s regarding Miller closely, thoughtfully. ‘I thought you’d accepted there’s no breaking us,’ I say, noticing Miller halt with the continuous rains of kisses he’s applying to the back of my hand. After William helped us flee London, I was certain there would be no more interfering on his part.
He sighs, and I feel my hand being lowered into Miller’s lap. ‘I’m constantly having an argument with myself on this, Olivia. I can see love when it’s staring me in the face. But I can also see disaster when it’s staring me in the face. I haven’t got a fucking clue what to do for the best.’ He clears his throat and looks at me all apologetically. ‘Excuse my language.’
I let out a sarcastic puff of air. Excuse his language?
‘Where do we go from here?’ William goes on, ignoring my bemusement and looking to Miller.
Yes, let’s get this done with. I look at Miller, too, making him shift uncomfortably in his chair. ‘I still want out,’ Miller says, clearly uncomfortable under two sets of watchful eyes, yet his declaration is delivered with a load of determination. Determination is good. Although I’ve silently concluded that it isn’t enough.
‘Yes, we’ve established that. But I’ll ask you again, do you think they’ll let you walk away?’ It’s a rhetorical question. It requires no answer. And it doesn’t get one. So William continues. ‘Why did you take her there, Hart? Knowing how delicate things are, why?’
I seize up. Every guilty muscle in my body solidifies as a result of that question. I can’t let him take the flak for that one. ‘He didn’t take me,’ I whisper, ashamed, feeling Miller’s hold of my hand tighten. ‘Miller was at Ice. I was at home. I had a call on my phone. Unknown number.’
William frowns. ‘Go on.’
I gulp down some courage and look at Miller out of the corner of my eye, catching a soft, loving expression. ‘I could hear a conversation and I didn’t like what I heard.’ I wait for the obvious question but gasp when William says something else instead.
‘Sophia.’ He closes his eyes and inhales warily. ‘Sophia-fucking-Reinhoff.’ His eyes open and land on Miller with a bang. ‘So much for playing down your relationship with Olivia.’
‘Miller did nothing,’ I argue, leaning forward. ‘I was the one who caused this situation. I went to the club. I tipped Miller over the edge.’
‘How?’
My mouth snaps shut and I’m far back in my chair again. He won’t want to hear this any more than Miller wanted to see it. ‘I . . .’ My face heats under William’s expectant look. ‘I . . .’
‘She was recognised.’ Miller steps in, and I know it’s because he’ll be blaming this part on William.
‘Miller—’
‘No, Olivia.’ He cuts me off and leans forward a little. ‘She was recognised by one of your clients.’
The regret that invades William’s face fills me with guilt.
‘I watched as some slime ball tried to claim her from me, offered to take care of her.’ He’s beginning to tremble, the reminder re-stoking his anger. ‘Tell me, Mr Anderson, what would you have done?’
‘Killed him.’
I recoil in response
to William’s short, menacing reply, knowing for certain he absolutely means it.
‘Well, I spared him –’ Miller relaxes back in his chair – ‘just. Does that make me a better man than you?’
‘I believe it might,’ William replies, no hesitation and with complete honesty. For some reason, I’m not surprised.
‘I’m glad we’ve cleared that up. Now, let’s move on.’ Miller shifts in his chair. ‘I’m getting out, I’m taking Cassie with me, and I’ll tell you exactly how.’
William regards him carefully for a while, and then both men turn to me. ‘You want me to leave?’
‘Wait in the bar for me,’ Miller says coolly, showing me a face that I’ve fast become familiar with. It’s his I’m-not-budging face.
‘So, you only brought me in here to fuck me on his desk?’
‘Olivia!’ William scolds me, pulling my contemptuous glare from Miller to him for a few moments. He’s returning my glare, and if I wasn’t so slighted at the moment, I’d snarl at him. But I accept I can be of no help here. In fact, everything that has brought us to now only confirms that I’m a hindrance, but I’m pissed off for . . . everything. For feeling helpless, for being difficult.
Standing quietly, I turn my back without another word and escape the tension, shutting the door quietly behind me. I walk numbly down the corridor, navigating my way to the ladies’ washroom, ignoring the fact that I know exactly which way to go. I disregard the looks of interest being thrown at me by men, women, and staff on my way. It’s hard, but I succeed, the knowledge of what further state of hopelessness the looks could cause giving me the necessary strength to do so.
Once I’ve used the toilet, washed my hands, and stared at myself blankly in the mirror for an age, I make tracks to the Lounge Bar and settle on a barstool, quickly ordering a glass of wine – anything to focus on except what may be going down in William’s office.
‘Madam.’ The barman smiles, sliding my drink across to me.