‘Pardon!’ He coughs, pushing up onto his forearms.
I’m really grinning now. ‘She said to give your buns a little squeeze.’ My nails dig in again, and Miller chokes on a laugh. A proper laugh. His dimple is deep on his cheek and my smile falls away in an instant as I watch his head drop, his hair flopping forward and his shoulders jumping up. I know I wanted a smile, but I wasn’t prepared for this. I’m not sure how to handle it. He’s in bits, and with a lack of a natural reaction coming to me, I can do nothing more than lie here, trapped beneath his jerking body, and wait for him to pull it together. But he doesn’t look anywhere near to composure. ‘You okay?’ I ask, still stunned, still frowning.
‘Olivia Taylor, your grandmother is a treasure,’ he chuckles, pressing his lips hard to mine. ‘An eighteen-carat-gold treasure.’
‘She’s a pain in the royal arse, that’s what she is.’
‘Don’t speak of a loved one in such a way.’ He pulls back to reveal that familiar straight face, all laughter and happiness gone like it was never there. The sudden change in mood makes me appreciate how insensitive my words were. Miller has no one. Not a soul.
‘I’m sorry.’ I feel thoughtless and guilty under his accusing gaze. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’
‘She’s special, Olivia.’
‘I know she is,’ I retort quietly. I was joking, although I’d do well to remember that Miller Hart isn’t the joking kind. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
He slips into thought, flicking his blues around my face before settling back on my eyes. His shining orbs soften. ‘I overreacted. I apologise.’
‘No, there’s no need.’ I shake my head on a sigh, keeping myself lost in the softness of his puddles of blue. ‘You have a someone, Miller.’
‘A someone?’ His beautiful brow furrows.
‘Yes,’ I begin enthusiastically. ‘Me.’
‘You?’
‘I’m your someone. Everyone has a someone, and I’m yours, like you are mine.’
‘You’re my someone?’
‘Yes.’ I nod sharply, watching as he thinks about my declaration.
‘And I’m your someone?’
‘Correct.’
Miller’s head bobs mildly on an agreeable nod. ‘Olivia Taylor is my someone?’
I shrug. ‘Or habit.’
His nodding stops in a heartbeat and I watch delightedly as his lips begin to twitch again. ‘Both?’
‘Of course,’ I agree. I’ll be whatever he wants me to be.
‘You don’t have a choice.’ The twitching transforms into his lovely smile, nearly blinding me.
‘I don’t want one.’
‘Then this—’
‘Is a pointless discussion, yes, I agree.’ I yank him down to my body and secure my legs around his waist, my arms over his shoulders. And then something in this moment makes me say it loud and clear – no code or words with actions. ‘I love your bones, Miller Hart.’
He pauses with his sucking on my neck and pulls back slowly to gaze down at me. I brace myself, for what I don’t know. He knows how I feel. He thinks for a moment before drawing breath. ‘I’m going to take an educated guess and suggest you mean that you love me deeply.’
‘Correct,’ I laugh, pushing into his mouth when his head dips to lock back onto my neck.
‘Excellent.’ He kisses me chastely and works his way up my jaw, across my cheek, and onto my lips. ‘I’m deeply fascinated by you, too.’
I’m reduced to mush beneath him. That’s all I need. That’s his way. That’s Miller Hart, the emotionally deprived fraudulent gentleman expressing his feelings with words – funny words, but I understand them. I understand him.
I let him kiss me, let his scratchy stubble rub against my face, and I relish every sweet second, grumbling my annoyance when he pulls away.
‘I’m going to the gym before work this morning.’ He rises to his knees and pulls me up to his lap. ‘Would you like to come?’
‘Oh?’ I’m not sure that I need to now. All my anger and stress has completely disintegrated, thanks to Miller and his worshipping ways. Punching a bag of sand to death isn’t necessary any more. ‘I don’t have membership to any gyms,’ I lie, thinking it’s also not necessary for me to observe Miller beating a bag of sand to death. The scenes from the studio at the gym and outside Ice are not events I relish or want to relive.
‘You’ll be my guest.’ He lands me with a quick kiss and lifts me from the bed. ‘Get dressed.’
‘I need a shower,’ I say, watching his back disappear into his wardrobe. The scent of sex is heavy and clinging all over me. ‘I’ll be two minutes.’ I make my way towards his bathroom but gasp when I’m intercepted and swiped from my feet.
‘Wrong,’ he says matter-of-factly, carting me back to the bed across his arms. ‘There’s no time.’
‘But I feel all . . . sticky.’ I cringe as I’m placed on my feet, finding Miller semi-clothed in only his shorts, his bare chest being waved like a red flag to a bull. I can’t rip my eyes away as it gets closer and closer until my nose is almost touching it.
‘Earth to Olivia.’ His silky voice yanks me out of my trance and I step back, lifting my eyes to find a sanctimonious grin.
I grin back. ‘God paid extra special attention when crafting you.’
His eyebrows arch and his grin stretches further across his face. ‘And he created you for me.’
‘Correct.’
‘I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.’ He cocks his head towards the bed. ‘Want to help me make my bed?’
‘No!’ I blurt the word without thought, thinking I’ve already wasted too much energy on fussing over his beloved bed, and also remembering the last time I made a masterpiece of it. He could barely contain his compulsion to rip off all of the sheets and fix it. And he eventually did. ‘You do it.’ He’ll only put it all right again, so it’ll be a total waste of my time.
‘As you wish,’ he says on an agreeable nod. ‘Get dressed.’
I don’t argue, leaving Miller to fix his bed while I retrieve my clothes from the bottom drawer. ‘I don’t have any gym clothes.’
‘I’ll take you home.’ He flaps the quilt onto the bed artfully, and it lands pretty perfectly, but he still makes his way around, pulling and tweaking corners. ‘Then I’ll take you to work. What time do you need to be there?’
‘Nine.’
‘Excellent. We have three-point-five hours.’ He positions the pillows and steps back to assess his handiwork before turning and catching me watching him. ‘Chop-chop.’
Smiling, I shimmy into my dress and slip my heels on. ‘Teeth?’ I can hold off on the shower if he insists, but I need to freshen up my mouth.
‘We’ll do it together.’ He sweeps his arm out in a gesture for me to lead on, which I do with a smile on my face. He’s still predominantly uptight, but there’s an air of peace surrounding him, and I know the source of that harmony is me.
Chapter Thirteen
The health club is heaving. After finding a small space on one of the benches in the ladies’ changing rooms, I hurry into my gym kit and shove my bag in a locker before escaping the happy morning chatter of many gym buddies and falling into the corridor, feeling exhausted already. I make a quick scan of the corridor but I can’t see Miller, so I pace towards the end of the building where I remember the gym to be, passing the many glass-paned doors and spotting the various classes under way. Stopping at the last door, I watch as dozens of women prance around in front of a huge mirror, each looking super-fit and toned, each, although showing exertion, displaying perfectly made-up faces. My hand lifts and feels the knotted bun on my head, and my face in the reflection catches my attention. I’ve not a scrap of make-up on, nor do I look like a regular. It seems the gym isn’t an excuse to skimp on personal appearance.
I’m really grinning now. ‘She said to give your buns a little squeeze.’ My nails dig in again, and Miller chokes on a laugh. A proper laugh. His dimple is deep on his cheek and my smile falls away in an instant as I watch his head drop, his hair flopping forward and his shoulders jumping up. I know I wanted a smile, but I wasn’t prepared for this. I’m not sure how to handle it. He’s in bits, and with a lack of a natural reaction coming to me, I can do nothing more than lie here, trapped beneath his jerking body, and wait for him to pull it together. But he doesn’t look anywhere near to composure. ‘You okay?’ I ask, still stunned, still frowning.
‘Olivia Taylor, your grandmother is a treasure,’ he chuckles, pressing his lips hard to mine. ‘An eighteen-carat-gold treasure.’
‘She’s a pain in the royal arse, that’s what she is.’
‘Don’t speak of a loved one in such a way.’ He pulls back to reveal that familiar straight face, all laughter and happiness gone like it was never there. The sudden change in mood makes me appreciate how insensitive my words were. Miller has no one. Not a soul.
‘I’m sorry.’ I feel thoughtless and guilty under his accusing gaze. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’
‘She’s special, Olivia.’
‘I know she is,’ I retort quietly. I was joking, although I’d do well to remember that Miller Hart isn’t the joking kind. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
He slips into thought, flicking his blues around my face before settling back on my eyes. His shining orbs soften. ‘I overreacted. I apologise.’
‘No, there’s no need.’ I shake my head on a sigh, keeping myself lost in the softness of his puddles of blue. ‘You have a someone, Miller.’
‘A someone?’ His beautiful brow furrows.
‘Yes,’ I begin enthusiastically. ‘Me.’
‘You?’
‘I’m your someone. Everyone has a someone, and I’m yours, like you are mine.’
‘You’re my someone?’
‘Yes.’ I nod sharply, watching as he thinks about my declaration.
‘And I’m your someone?’
‘Correct.’
Miller’s head bobs mildly on an agreeable nod. ‘Olivia Taylor is my someone?’
I shrug. ‘Or habit.’
His nodding stops in a heartbeat and I watch delightedly as his lips begin to twitch again. ‘Both?’
‘Of course,’ I agree. I’ll be whatever he wants me to be.
‘You don’t have a choice.’ The twitching transforms into his lovely smile, nearly blinding me.
‘I don’t want one.’
‘Then this—’
‘Is a pointless discussion, yes, I agree.’ I yank him down to my body and secure my legs around his waist, my arms over his shoulders. And then something in this moment makes me say it loud and clear – no code or words with actions. ‘I love your bones, Miller Hart.’
He pauses with his sucking on my neck and pulls back slowly to gaze down at me. I brace myself, for what I don’t know. He knows how I feel. He thinks for a moment before drawing breath. ‘I’m going to take an educated guess and suggest you mean that you love me deeply.’
‘Correct,’ I laugh, pushing into his mouth when his head dips to lock back onto my neck.
‘Excellent.’ He kisses me chastely and works his way up my jaw, across my cheek, and onto my lips. ‘I’m deeply fascinated by you, too.’
I’m reduced to mush beneath him. That’s all I need. That’s his way. That’s Miller Hart, the emotionally deprived fraudulent gentleman expressing his feelings with words – funny words, but I understand them. I understand him.
I let him kiss me, let his scratchy stubble rub against my face, and I relish every sweet second, grumbling my annoyance when he pulls away.
‘I’m going to the gym before work this morning.’ He rises to his knees and pulls me up to his lap. ‘Would you like to come?’
‘Oh?’ I’m not sure that I need to now. All my anger and stress has completely disintegrated, thanks to Miller and his worshipping ways. Punching a bag of sand to death isn’t necessary any more. ‘I don’t have membership to any gyms,’ I lie, thinking it’s also not necessary for me to observe Miller beating a bag of sand to death. The scenes from the studio at the gym and outside Ice are not events I relish or want to relive.
‘You’ll be my guest.’ He lands me with a quick kiss and lifts me from the bed. ‘Get dressed.’
‘I need a shower,’ I say, watching his back disappear into his wardrobe. The scent of sex is heavy and clinging all over me. ‘I’ll be two minutes.’ I make my way towards his bathroom but gasp when I’m intercepted and swiped from my feet.
‘Wrong,’ he says matter-of-factly, carting me back to the bed across his arms. ‘There’s no time.’
‘But I feel all . . . sticky.’ I cringe as I’m placed on my feet, finding Miller semi-clothed in only his shorts, his bare chest being waved like a red flag to a bull. I can’t rip my eyes away as it gets closer and closer until my nose is almost touching it.
‘Earth to Olivia.’ His silky voice yanks me out of my trance and I step back, lifting my eyes to find a sanctimonious grin.
I grin back. ‘God paid extra special attention when crafting you.’
His eyebrows arch and his grin stretches further across his face. ‘And he created you for me.’
‘Correct.’
‘I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.’ He cocks his head towards the bed. ‘Want to help me make my bed?’
‘No!’ I blurt the word without thought, thinking I’ve already wasted too much energy on fussing over his beloved bed, and also remembering the last time I made a masterpiece of it. He could barely contain his compulsion to rip off all of the sheets and fix it. And he eventually did. ‘You do it.’ He’ll only put it all right again, so it’ll be a total waste of my time.
‘As you wish,’ he says on an agreeable nod. ‘Get dressed.’
I don’t argue, leaving Miller to fix his bed while I retrieve my clothes from the bottom drawer. ‘I don’t have any gym clothes.’
‘I’ll take you home.’ He flaps the quilt onto the bed artfully, and it lands pretty perfectly, but he still makes his way around, pulling and tweaking corners. ‘Then I’ll take you to work. What time do you need to be there?’
‘Nine.’
‘Excellent. We have three-point-five hours.’ He positions the pillows and steps back to assess his handiwork before turning and catching me watching him. ‘Chop-chop.’
Smiling, I shimmy into my dress and slip my heels on. ‘Teeth?’ I can hold off on the shower if he insists, but I need to freshen up my mouth.
‘We’ll do it together.’ He sweeps his arm out in a gesture for me to lead on, which I do with a smile on my face. He’s still predominantly uptight, but there’s an air of peace surrounding him, and I know the source of that harmony is me.
Chapter Thirteen
The health club is heaving. After finding a small space on one of the benches in the ladies’ changing rooms, I hurry into my gym kit and shove my bag in a locker before escaping the happy morning chatter of many gym buddies and falling into the corridor, feeling exhausted already. I make a quick scan of the corridor but I can’t see Miller, so I pace towards the end of the building where I remember the gym to be, passing the many glass-paned doors and spotting the various classes under way. Stopping at the last door, I watch as dozens of women prance around in front of a huge mirror, each looking super-fit and toned, each, although showing exertion, displaying perfectly made-up faces. My hand lifts and feels the knotted bun on my head, and my face in the reflection catches my attention. I’ve not a scrap of make-up on, nor do I look like a regular. It seems the gym isn’t an excuse to skimp on personal appearance.
