‘Have a great day!’ she sings on a laugh.
As soon as the door slams behind us, I fight my way from Miller’s hold and swing to face him, my hair whipping my face. ‘What’s she doing here?’
‘She has the studio from eight to ten.’
I bristle. ‘Have you slept with her?’
‘No.’ His answer is swift and decisive. ‘Never.’
‘Then what’s her bendy arse harping on about?’
‘Bendy arse?’ One corner of his mouth tips in concealed humour. It doesn’t improve my mood.
‘I know she’s a hooker, Miller. I saw her at a function with some old, fat, rich man.’
Any signs of amusement slip away from his face in an instant. ‘I see,’ he says simply, like it’s of no importance.
‘You see?’
‘What else would you like me to say? She’s an escort.’
My sass shrivels. I don’t know what I want him to say. ‘I need to get to work.’ I pivot, making for the ladies’ changing rooms, feeling hot wetness trickling down my thighs. Damn it!
‘Olivia.’
I ignore him and push my way through the door. The possessiveness coursing through my fire-filled veins is a little shocking, my returning sass transforming into . . . something else. I’ve not quite identified it yet, but it’s dangerous. I know that much. My backside plummets to a slatted bench and my head falls into my hands. She’s going nowhere. She’s bold and obviously harbours a hatred for me. Can I handle that?
‘Hey.’ Warm palms skate up my thighs and I peek through my parted fingers to find Miller kneeling in front of me. A brief scan of the changing room quickly tells me that we’re not alone. There are two towel-clad women at the other end, watching with interest, but neither seem concerned by their lack of clothing.
‘Miller, what are you doing?’ I return my eyes to his crouched form, seeing an expressionless face but sympathy in his eyes.
‘I’m doing what a man does when he sees the woman he adores in pieces.’
Adores? Not fascinated? Even now, when I’m struggling to locate any sense, that simple word thrills me. ‘I don’t like her.’
‘Neither do I sometimes.’
‘Just sometimes?’
‘She’s misunderstood.’
‘I don’t think I’m misunderstanding her. She doesn’t like me.’
‘That’s because I like you. Very much so.’
Fascinated. Adores. Like. ‘Does she want you?’
‘She wants to make things difficult.’
‘Why?’
He sighs, low and drawn out, and clamps his palms on either side of my cheeks, getting nose to nose with me. ‘She can’t see past what she knows.’
She can’t see past sex and glamour? I shake my head, a little confused but more frustrated. So she expects Miller to follow the same theory? ‘I want to run away,’ I whisper, my legs twitching already, eager to carry me from the stark truth of Miller and his history. Everything everywhere is a constant reminder. I’m not sure if I can get past it. ‘With you,’ I clarify when a wave of trepidation floats across his face. ‘Will any of these people let us be?’
‘Sweet girl, I’m prepared to annihilate anything that blocks my path to freedom.’ He leans in and kisses my forehead – an act so tender but bursting with reassurance. Or supposed to be. Uncertainty was pouring from his eyes before his lids closed and concealed it. ‘I beg you, don’t let the demeaning words of others interfere.’
‘It’s hard.’ I let him press his lips over every part of my face until he’s pulling away. He’s got the uncertainty under control. Now his blues are beseeching. He thinks I’ll allow these people – Cassie and whoever else there is, because I know there will be more – to scare me away. They won’t. Nothing will. ‘I love you.’
He smiles and pulls me to my feet. ‘I accept your love.’
‘You’re just saying that.’
‘Will I ever win this argument?’ he asks, his hairline pulling back from the sudden height of his eyebrows.
I consider his question for a moment. ‘No,’ I state, short and exact, because he can’t. I’ll never really know if he truly accepts it. His words will never convince me.
‘Get showered and changed.’ He clasps my shoulders and turns me away from him. ‘We’ll be late.’
A cheeky tap of my bottom sends me on my way, but the uncertainty that I found in Miller’s eyes seems to have rooted itself deep within me. If he can’t ease my trepidation, then no one can.
Chapter Fourteen
We’re a few streets away from the bistro, caught up in a traffic jam. I can feel him studying me, so I cast a sideways glance on a tiny smirk. He leans over and kisses me sweetly. ‘Your hair’s a little wild.’
I frown while he makes a haphazard job of tucking it behind my ears. Then I smile. ‘I didn’t have any conditioner.’ Reaching forward, I smooth my hand through Miller’s perfect dark waves. ‘I should have asked to borrow yours.’
He freezes mid-arranging of my hair and flicks amused eyes to mine. My smile widens. ‘You’re perfect.’ He untucks my hair. ‘This is perfect. Never cut it off.’