‘Tell me you like strawberries,’ he pleads, fetching a bottle of Evian and joining me again.
‘I love strawberries.’
‘That’s a relief.’ He unscrews the lid and pours my water into the other flute. ‘Humour me,’ he says when he catches sight of my furrowed brow. I accept the drink and watch as he takes his time selecting a strawberry before he dips it in the bowl and swirls carefully, coating the ripe fruit with dark chocolate. ‘Open.’ He clasps the seat of my chair with his spare hand and drags me closer so I’m snugly fit between his thighs. His bare chest is slightly distracting.
My jaw loosens automatically, mainly because I’m gaping at his close beauty, and he holds my eyes as he brings the fruit to my mouth until I feel it skimming my lip. My mouth closes around it and my teeth sink in, biting a small piece from its plump flesh. ‘Hmmm,’ I hum happily and reach up to catch a trail of strawberry juice on my chin, but my wrist is seized before I get to wipe it away.
‘Allow me,’ he whispers, edging further into me, his lips homing in on my chin and slowly licking away the juice before he slips the remaining piece past his lips. My chewing has slowed right down, matching the precise motions of his mouth. He swallows. ‘Good?’
My mouth is full, so I nod – knowing Miller’s compulsion for manners – and hold my finger up to indicate a second as I chew quickly. I lick my lips and lean towards the bowl again. ‘You need to feed me another.’
His eyes twinkle as he selects another strawberry and dips and swirls again. ‘It would be even better with champagne,’ he muses, flicking his eyes to mine.
I ignore him and place my water on the table. ‘What chocolate is that?’
‘Ah.’ He brings the strawberry to my mouth, but this time he brushes the runny chocolate across my bottom lip, and my tongue instantly leaves my mouth to clear it up. ‘No.’ He shakes his head and slides his palm around my neck, pulling me in. ‘I get to do that,’ he whispers in my face, moving in.
I don’t fight him off. I let him clean up the mess that he’s made and take the opportunity to rest my palms on his thighs, on either side of my knees. I smooth across the dark hairs of his legs, enjoying the feel of him, while he finishes up at my mouth, kissing the corner of my lips, the centre, and then the other corner.
‘What chocolate is it?’ I repeat quietly, wanting to forget all sweet-tasting things and taste Miller instead.
‘Green and Black’s.’ He offers me the strawberry and I take it, holding it between my teeth. ‘It has to be a minimum of eighty per cent cocoa.’ The strawberry that I’m holding is preventing me from asking why, so I frown instead, prompting him to go on. ‘The bitterness of the chocolate coupled with the sweetness of the strawberry is what makes it so special. Add champagne and you have a perfect combination. And the strawberries simply have to be British.’ He leans in and bites the strawberry that’s wedged between my teeth and juice explodes between us.
I don’t care about the juice all over my chin, or that my mouth is full. ‘Why?’
He finishes chewing and swallows. ‘Because they’re the sweetest you can buy.’ He slips his hands under my thighs and lifts, pulling me forward so I’m astride him on the chair. He takes excruciatingly long to clean me up. It makes my skin heat and my breath catch constantly in my throat as I try to contain the urge to pounce on him. The sheet is yanked away, exposing my full nakedness to him. ‘Bath time.’
‘You don’t need to bathe me,’ I object, wondering how far he’ll take this worshipping business. I’m feeling extremely special, but I can wash myself.
He takes my hands and rests them on his shoulders, then gathers the masses of honey locks framing my face. ‘I absolutely do need to bathe you, Livy.’
‘Why?’
He stands, holding my bum cheeks, and takes me to the mirrored fridge. I’m placed on my feet and turned away from him so my front is facing the mirror. I’m staring at myself. I feel uncomfortable, especially when I flick my eyes to Miller behind me and see his gaze journeying the length of my body. My eyes fall to the floor, but quickly snap up again when his chest is pressed against me and I feel his hard length pressed into my lower back – hot and moist. His shorts are gone.
‘Feeling better?’ he asks, holding my eyes in the mirror and reaching around to gently cup my breast.
I nod, when I really mean to say no. He intimidates me on every level, but it’s all very addictive.
He moulds my breast gently. ‘Mouth-watering,’ he whispers, his lips moving slowly. ‘Perfectly plump.’ He tweaks my nipple lightly and kisses my ear. ‘And incredibly tasty.’