‘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.
‘Oh!’ I gasp when I feel hot breath at my ear.
‘Wrong way,’ he whispers, snaking his forearm around my waist and lifting me from my feet. ‘We’re in this room.’ I’m transported back the way I came with no complaint, until Miller is entering the very room where I spied on him. The door is closed behind us with my back still secured against his chest, and he soon spins me around and pushes me up against it. My first thoughts are of disappointment when I find him wearing a T-shirt, but they are soon hijacked when I’m hoisted up to his lips and blindsided by the wonderful talents of his mouth. This is a workout of another kind.
‘You could have kept me in bed and tasted me,’ I mumble, feeling him smile against my lips. All of these smiles and his relaxed persona, especially out of the bedroom, are throwing me all off-kilter. I love it, but it’s all so very new.
‘I can taste you wherever I like.’ He lets me slide down the door to my feet and steps back, leaving me resentful of the sudden space between us.
So I close it and circle his waist with my arms, burying my nose in the material of his T-shirt. ‘Let’s just have our thing.’
‘We’re here to work up a sweat.’ He has humour in his tone as he collects my wrists from behind his back and disconnects me from him.
‘There are too many things I could say to that,’ I grumble.
‘Is my sweet girl exposing her sassy streak?’ His eyebrow cocks as he grasps the hem of his T-shirt and slowly pulls it up over his torso, revealing ripple after ripple until I’m cross-eyed with delight.
‘You’re being childish,’ I accuse with slightly narrowed eyes. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘What?’
‘That.’ I wave my arm up and down his chest, and he looks down, that wayward curl falling loose. ‘Put your T-shirt back on.’
‘But I’ll get hot.’