‘Really, Olivia?’
I sit up, a wicked grin on my face. ‘It’s always on your terms,’ I state, resting my chin in my palm and my elbow on my knee. He’s still busy rearranging himself, choosing to answer without looking at me.
‘It’s a good job, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘It’s polite to look at someone when they’re talking to you.’
Frantic hands halt in their fussing and an impassive face slowly rises to mine. ‘It’s a good job, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘No, I wouldn’t.’ Images of a gym, a paint studio, and cars jump all over my mind. At least there’s a bed here. And it’s my bedroom. I slide off the mattress and pace slowly and purposely over to him. He watches me, standing silently, almost cautiously, until my chest is pushed into his. I lift my eyes to his mouth. Hot, lusty air streams from parted lips, fuelling my hunger, swelling my confidence. ‘I won’t make it through dinner,’ I warn, flicking my eyes to his.
‘I won’t disrespect your grandmother, Olivia.’
My eyes narrow and a conniving hand stretches forward and brushes over his groin. He jumps back. I move forward. ‘Don’t be so uptight.’
Strong hands circle my upper arms and a face full of frustration lowers to mine. ‘No,’ he says simply.
‘Yes,’ I retort, struggling out of his hold and cupping him over his trousers. ‘You’re the one who’s unleashed this need, so you’re under obligation to remedy it.’
‘Fucking hell!’
I inwardly cheer, knowing I have him. He can’t make me endure another dinner at Nan’s table when I’m in this condition. I’ll spontaneously combust. ‘Loosen up.’
‘Give me strength, Olivia.’ He knocks my hand away from his groin and tackles me to the bed, the frame squeaking, the headboard smacking the wall behind. My victory fills me with unreasonable pride. My lips press together and my eyes clench shut as he circles deliciously into me, the friction having me trying to shift my legs beneath him to alleviate the pressure building between my thighs. My actions earn me more restraint. He nails my wrists to the mattress. ‘You want me?’ he breathes in my face, gently thrusting forward, pushing the bated breath from my lungs. I cry out, my eyes flying open. Dark lashes greet me, framing intoxicating blues. ‘Don’t make me ask you again.’
‘Yes!’ I yelp at the delivery of another calculated thrust, feeling him solid beneath the material of his trousers. Dizziness overwhelms me and the room starts spinning wildly, yet Miller’s perfect face is still perfectly clear before me. ‘Miller,’ I pant, loving and hating his control over my body all at once.
Smug satisfaction plagues his features. And then he pushes himself off me and sets about sorting his suit out again. ‘Come. Your grandmother has gone to a lot of trouble.’
My mouth falls open in utter disbelief. ‘You’re not . . .’
‘Oh, I am.’ He collects me from the bed and begins to make me look presentable while I stand unequivocally dumbstruck by his underhanded game. He’s solid. It must be painful, because I know that I’m suffering. He brushes my wild hair over each shoulder, looking satisfied with the result. ‘Your cheeks are flushed,’ he says, his voice loaded with smugness.
‘How—’ His finger meets my lips to hush me before he replaces it with his lips, escalating my sexed-up condition. ‘Just think how much more you’ll enjoy me later when I can take my time with you.’
‘You’re unbelievably cruel,’ I whimper, throwing my arms around his neck and tackling his wonderful mouth, desperate to get all I can before he wrestles me off him.
He doesn’t prise me away, instead lifting me from my feet and carrying me to the door while returning my kiss, accepting my tongue dancing wildly in his mouth and moaning his appreciation as he does. In an attempt to trap him further, I curl my thighs around his tight h*ps and arch my spine, sealing our chests and balling my fists in his hair. I hum, I whimper, I sigh. My head tilts, my mouth tracks the lines of his lips, and my teeth bite down in between plunges of my tongue. This isn’t improving my thirst, but if it’s all I’m getting for the time being, then I’m making the most of it. My eyes are closed and Miller’s palms are cupping my bottom, squeezing, massaging and smoothing as he takes the stairs down to the hallway. My time’s running out.
‘Olivia,’ he pants, breaking our mouth contact.
‘Nuh-uh,’ I moan, pushing into the back of his head, reattaching my lips to his.
‘Jesus, you’re ruining me.’
Through my dizziness, I register the stupidity of such a statement. ‘Take me to your place,’ I beg, knowing I’m pleading in vain. Miller’s far too polite to stand my grandmother up. I can smell a hearty meal, something stodgy simmering upon the stove, and I hear Nan singing chirpily in the kitchen.
‘She’s gone to too much trouble.’ He peels me away from his suit and sets me on my feet, tugging my top into place. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’ His eyes drop to my too-flat stomach.
‘Not really,’ I concede. There’s no room in my brain to register hunger.
‘We need to resolve this appetite issue,’ he quips curtly, ‘before you disappear before my eyes.’
‘There’s no issue.’ I reach up and take Miller’s tie, jiggling with the dislodged knot for a short time before I’m happy that it’s straight and tidy. ‘I eat when I’m hungry.’