Unveiled
Page 96

‘Shit!’ I curse under my breath, pressing and flicking everything in sight until the speakers come to life. ‘What mood are you in, sweet girl?’ I call, scanning the lists of endless tracks on the computer screen.
‘Give me something energetic. I have a long day.’
‘As you wish,’ I say to myself, spotting the perfect track. I smile and load it up, then slowly raise my bent body as MGMT’s “Electric Feel” fills the main floor of my club. She’s grinning. It’s the most beautiful sight, but her mouth is the only thing she’s moving, and it will be until I make it to her. She knows.
I hold her breathtaking sapphire eyes as I step down from the booth, then stalk slowly towards her. God bless her, those dainty shoulders are twitching, dying to start pulsing with the music, but she won’t. I’m taking my time, as I always do. Her chin drops a little and her lips part, her eyes hooded, her eyelashes fluttering.
She wants to tell me to hurry the hell up, but again, she won’t. Savoured. Never rushed. And I’m savouring every nanosecond it takes me to reach her, drinking in pure, raw, exquisite beauty as I do.
‘Miller,’ she breathes, her voice drenched in sex, want, lust, impatience.
‘Let me have my time with you, sweet girl.’ I make it to her and push my whole front into hers, feeling her heart beating, steady and strong.
I slide my arm around her tiny waist and tug, sealing us, and nearly explode with happiness when she gives me a coy smile, looking up at me. ‘Are you ready to let me worship you on the dance floor?’ I ask.
‘So ready.’
I return her smile, holding on to her with one arm, letting my other relax by my side. Her arms, though, go straight for my neck, circling and pulling my face closer to hers as I begin to teasingly thrust my groin into her tummy in time to the beat. She’ll be naked on the floor by the end of this track. My cock’s throbbing, shouting at me to make it happen soon.
I widen my stance and bend my knees a little so I can accommodate the closeness of our faces, and she responds by beginning to follow the grinding of my hips, making sure our groins are touching at all times.
My smile widens as I gaze into her eyes, holding her tightly as we remain on the spot, until I step back and she follows, her upper body falling into a delicious rhythm, swaying with me from side to side. ‘Tell me this is worth being late for,’ I breathe down on her, thrusting my hips forward harshly when she delays her answer. ‘Tell me.’
Her lips slightly purse, her eyes narrowing. ‘Are you going to add this to your daily obsessive habits?’
I grin. ‘Might do.’
‘That means yes.’
I laugh and twirl us around, breaking our joined bodies and claiming her hand. She yelps on a giggle as I yank her into me until we’re nose to nose and unmoving, the music still in full swing. ‘Correct.’ I smash my lips to hers, stealing her breath, and mine, too, for that matter, then throw her out on a spin, her gorgeous blonde hair fanning out and whipping the air around her. She laughs, she smiles, her sapphire eyes glimmer relentlessly, and I once again appreciate how fucking lucky I am. There’s not a scrap of darkness in my world anymore. There’s nothing but blinding light. And it’s all because of this beautiful creature.
My thoughts leave my concentration lacking in the dancing department and I pull her in once more, throwing my arms around her, needing our thing. I don’t release her for a long, long time, and she doesn’t complain. My reality often hits me like an iron bar to the face, quickly having me check everything around me is real and mine. My thing is the best way. Problem is, no amount of time with her safe in my arms is long enough. Not even forever. Or an eternity.
The music drifts into nothing, but I remain holding her tightly, still swaying us from side to side. She doesn’t complain, and I know she won’t prompt me to release her, so I swallow down some strength and break away from her. ‘Get to work, sweet girl,’ I whisper in her ear, smacking her bottom to send her on her way. It takes all of my strength to remain where I am and not chase her down, as it always does. I try to ignore the ache in my heart that descends quickly as she gets farther and farther away from me. I try. And fail every time. I won’t be complete again until she’s back in my sight or in my thing.
 
I’m looking at every pair of feet that pass me as I wait outside the school entrance, searching for bare ankles. I shake my head to myself, thinking it’s really not acceptable for so many kids to go out in public without matching socks. So what if my boy wants to remedy that. He’s doing them a favour.
Standing by the door, my hands resting lightly in my trouser pockets, I can’t even be bothered to return the smiles of the many women who pass with their kids in tow. Smiling would be engaging with these strangers. It would be inviting them in to talk, ask questions, get to know me. No thank you. So I maintain my stoic expression and only allow my facial muscles to kick in when I see him coming. I smile, watching him traipse out of the doors with his rucksack on his back, his little Ralph shirt tucked haphazardly into his grey shorts and lovely navy striped socks pulled up his shins. His cute little feet are graced in grey Converse high-tops, laces undone and trailing behind him, and his dark waves are a tangle of locks, falling to his ears. My little man.
‘Good afternoon, sir,’ I say, dropping to my haunches when he makes it to me and tying his laces. ‘Have you had a good day?’
His eyes, a carbon copy of the Taylor girls, all navy and sparkling, are irritated. ‘Five pairs, Daddy,’ he tells me. ‘It’s unacceptable.’
‘Five?’ I sound shocked, which is fine because I am. He must have been in a right pickle. I narrow questioning eyes on him as I finish securing his laces. ‘And what did you do, Harry?’
‘Told them to put socks on their Christmas lists.’
I chuckle to myself, taking his hand. ‘We have a date with Great-Nana.’
He squeals his excitement, making me smile.
‘Let’s go.’ I claim his little hand and start leading him away, but I pull up short when I hear the distant calling of my name.
‘Mr Hart!’
Looking down at my boy, I cock him a questioning look, but his little face remains deadpan and he shrugs. ‘I couldn’t concentrate on my drawing.’
‘So you told them to put socks on their Christmas list and also made them remove the odd ones they had on?’
‘Correct.’
I can’t help it. I smile down at my little lad and bright light explodes around me when he returns my amusement.
‘Mr Hart!’
I turn, taking my boy with me, and see his teacher scurrying towards us, her floral skirt swishing around her ankles. She’s creased beyond creased. ‘Ms Phillips,’ I sigh, demonstrating my tiredness before she gets into her stride.
‘Mr Hart, I know you’re a busy man—’
‘Correct,’ I interrupt, just for clarification.
She shifts nervously. Is she blushing? My probing eyes study her for a few moments, my lips pouting in contemplation. She’s definitely blushing, and now she’s fidgeting madly. ‘Yes, well.’ She lifts one of her hands, and I look down to see a bunch of mix-matched material bunched in her grasp. Socks. ‘I found these in the boys’ bathroom. In the bin.’