‘I haven’t had nearly enough. I need more.’ His lips find my cheek and his palm feels out the back of my head, his fingers combing through my hair and holding me in place. ‘I want to drown in you, Livy.’ His lips reach mine and the feel of them catapults me instantly to the night before. The shield shatters and a suppressed sob slips past my lips, my eyes squeezing shut to prevent the tears from trickling down my cheeks. ‘Open your mouth,’ he whispers.
My jaw relaxes at his gentle demand, giving him free rein on my senses, and his tongue slips slowly and softly past my lips, sweeping a sweet circle of my mouth, his body moving in closer to mine. There’s not a part of my front that’s not touching him. I go slack, my head tilting to give him better access, and my hands lift of their own accord, feeling up his sides until they’re on his shoulders. He’s set a painfully slow, tender pace, and I’m following, massaging his tongue with mine and failing to do what I know I should.
‘See how easy it is?’ he asks, slowly pulling away and pecking my lips.
I nod, agreeing, because it really is, but now his lips are off mine, sensibility seems to kick in. ‘Who’s that woman?’ I ask, stepping back. ‘Was this the prior engagement that you were talking about? A date?’
‘It’s business, Livy. Just business.’
I step back again. ‘And business involves having her hand glued to your backside?’ I have no right to sound so accusing. He’s played his cards.
His head cocks, a tiny hint of a frown surfacing. ‘Sometimes I have to accept a bit of familiarity in the name of business.’
‘What business?’
‘We’ve spoken of this before. I don’t think it’s a good idea to get personal.’
‘We’ve had sex. You don’t get more personal than that,’ I argue.
‘I mean emotionally, not physically, Livy.’
His words confirm my thoughts. Damn women and their deepness, and damn men for their hollowness. Just sex; I must remember that. These feelings are spiked by lust and nothing more. ‘I’m not this kind of person, Miller. I don’t do things like this.’ I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince here.
He steps forward and runs his hand behind my neck, taking his signature hold. ‘Maybe that’s what I find so fascinating.’
‘Or perhaps you’re just finding it an entertaining challenge.’
‘If that’s the case,’ he drops a soft kiss on my cheek, ‘then I think we can safely say that I’ve conquered you.’
He’s absolutely right. He’s conquered me, and he’s the only man who has. ‘I need to go.’ I start backing away, just as his phone starts ringing from his pocket. He reaches in and glances at the screen, then to me. I can see that he’s torn as he watches me leave. ‘You should take that call.’ I nod at his phone, hoping he’ll decline and fulfil his promise to put me back in his bed. If I escape now, then that’s it. I’m turning my back for good, and I’ll find the strength to resist him. But if he stops me, comes with me, then I’m going to be spending the next sixteen hours being worshipped again. I want to do both, but his decision is going to decide for me. Someone else’s choice is going to determine my destiny. And I can tell by the look on his face that he knows this, too.
My heart constricts when he answers the call, even though I know that it’s undeniably the best outcome for my destiny. ‘I’m on my way,’ he says quietly before cutting the call and watching me spreading the distance between us. I smile a little before turning my back on Miller Hart and mentally forming a plan to eradicate him from my mind altogether.
Chapter 10
Monday morning greets me, and I feel no better. I wallowed in self-pity all day yesterday, choosing to stay in bed, with Nan poking her head around my door to check on me every now and then. I’ve never feigned illness but I’m making up for that now. My grandmother is super suspicious but keeping her thoughts to herself for once. It’s a novelty, and a welcome one. My phone has rung twice, my only two friends in the world calling to check up on me, but I cut off any lengthy conversation. I could tell they’re suspicious, too – Sylvie most, having witnessed my meltdown. I’m not much of an actress. In fact, I’m rubbish at it, even cringing myself when I heard my unconvincing voice telling them that I felt rotten with a queasy stomach and cold shivers. Deciding that I need one more day to pull myself together, I call Del to tell him I feel no better.
‘Livy?’ Nan’s wary voice drifts through my door. ‘I’ve made breakfast. You’ll be late for work.’
‘I’m not going,’ I call, trying to croak and failing.
The door opens and she gingerly creeps in, giving my quilt-covered body the once-over. ‘Are you still feeling ill?’ she asks.
‘Terrible,’ I mutter.
She hums thoughtfully, picking up my discarded jeans and folding them neatly. ‘I’m going shopping. Would you like to come?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, Livy, come on,’ she sighs. ‘You can help me pick a pineapple for George’s upside-down cake.’
‘You need help picking a pineapple?’