Nan’s eyes follow Miller as he leaves. ‘Would you look at the buns on that,’ she muses, just as his back disappears.
‘Nan!’ I splutter, mortified.
‘Tight, perfectly formed. Livy, you are letting that man take you to dinner.’
‘Will you behave!’ I look down at my plate, noting my barely touched beef. I can’t possibly eat. I feel like I’m in a trance. ‘I’ll clear the table,’ I say, reaching over for Miller’s plate.
‘I’ll help.’ George makes to stand but I place my hand on his shoulder and apply a little pressure, encouraging him to remain seated.
‘It’s fine, George. I’ll take care of it.’
He doesn’t argue, instead topping up the wine glasses.
‘Get the pineapple upside-down cake!’ Nan calls to my back.
With a handful of stacked plates, I make my way to the kitchen, eager to escape the lingering presence of Miller, even though he’s no longer in the room. I didn’t refuse when he told me that I’ll be going home with him tonight, and I should’ve. What will I say to Nan? There’s no getting away from the fact that he’s the cause for my recent mood swings. My mind has never been so jumbled. I’m not in control, nothing is making sense, and I’m not accustomed to any of these feelings. But what is most mystifying to me is the man who’s the cause of my derailment. An unfathomable, beautiful man who screams heartache on every level.
Physical.
No feelings.
No emotion.
Just one night.
Twenty-four hours, of which I still owe him sixteen. That’s twice as long as what I’ve already experienced – double the sensations and desires . . . double the pain when we’re done.
‘I can hear you think.’
I jump and swing around, still with the stack of plates in my hand. ‘You startled me,’ I breathe, placing the crockery on the work surface.
‘I apologise,’ he says sincerely, strolling over to me. I don’t mean to, but I back up. ‘Are you overthinking things again?’
‘I call it being prudent.’
‘Prudent?’ he asks, standing in front of me now. ‘I wouldn’t call it that.’
I’m looking up at his face but desperately trying to avoid those eyes. ‘No?’
‘No.’ He takes a gentle hold of my chin, encouraging me to look at him. ‘I call it being foolish.’
Our eyes connect and so do our lips, but he only rests them over mine. There would be nothing foolish about avoiding Miller Hart. ‘I can’t read you,’ I say quietly, but my words don’t make him pull away with concern.
‘I don’t want to be read, Livy. I want to be flooded in the pleasure you give me.’
I liquefy against him, despite the fact that his words have only reinforced what I already know. I want to be flooded in the pleasure that he gives me, too, but I don’t want the feelings that come afterwards. I can’t cope with them. ‘You’re making this really difficult.’
His arm creeps around to my lower back and strokes up until he’s on my neck. ‘No. I’m making it all very simple. Overthinking makes it difficult, and you’re overthinking.’ He kisses my cheek and nuzzles into my neck. ‘Let me take you to bed.’
‘By doing that, I’ll be something I swore I’d never be.’
‘What’s that?’ He spreads delicate kisses across my neck, and he’s doing it because he knows I’m torn. He’s a smart man. He’s scrambling my senses, but worst of all, my mind.
‘At a man’s mercy.’
There’s definitely a slight falter in the trailing of his lips. I’m not imagining it. He removes himself from the sanctuary of my neck and studies me thoughtfully. So much time passes – enough for my mind to linger on many of the touches he’s blessed me with, the kisses we’ve shared and the passion we’ve created together. It’s like I’m watching it all in his eyes, making me wonder if he’s reliving those moments, too. He eventually reaches up and runs his knuckles softly down my cheek. ‘If there is anyone at the mercy of someone here, Livy, then it is me at yours.’ His eyes divert to my lips and lazily start moving in. And I do nothing to stop him.
I don’t see a man at my mercy. I see a man who wants something and seems prepared to do anything to get it.
‘We should get back to the table.’ I try to break away from him, turning my face away from his.
‘Not until you say you’re leaving with me.’ He surprises me by lifting me from my feet and sitting me on the counter. Laying his hands on the tops of my thighs, he leans in and looks at me, waiting for my agreement. ‘Say it.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘Yes you do.’ He gets nose to nose with me. ‘You’ve never wanted anything so much in your life.’
He’s right, but that doesn’t make it wise. ‘You’re very confident.’
He shakes his head on a mild curve of his mouth and reaches up to drag his thumb across my bottom lip. ‘You may be trying to convince both of us with words, but everything else is telling me different.’ He slips his finger into his mouth and sucks it, then runs a moist trail down my throat, over my breast and onto my stomach before his hand disappears up my dress and between my legs. My jaw tightens, my back straightens and my core starts pulsing, willing him to touch me there. My body is betraying me on every level, and he knows it. ‘I think I’ll find warmth.’ He inches closer to the apex of my thighs, and my head falls forward, meeting his forehead. ‘I think I’ll find wetness,’ he whispers, his finger slipping into the side of my knickers and spreading that wetness around. ‘I think if I enter you now, your greedy muscles will grab on and never let go.’