‘Come here.’ Miller stoops to collect me in his arms when we enter the stairwell, but I tenaciously brush him off.
‘You’re wiped out,’ I object, ignoring the hint of irritation that flashes across his face. ‘I’ll walk.’ I begin to take the steps slowly so his tired body can keep up, but I’m soon swiped from my feet on a yelp. ‘Miller!’
‘You’ll let me worship you, Olivia,’ he practically snaps. ‘That will make me better.’ I relent easily. Anything he needs.
Even footsteps echo around the concrete shaft and I settle my arms around his shoulders, studying his face as he carries me up the ten flights. There’s no sign of exertion or strain, only level breathing and his usual impassive beauty. I can’t tear my eyes away. I’m reliving the moment in time when he first carried me up these stairs, when I knew nothing about this dark man, yet was taken by him to the point of obsession. Nothing has changed. My fascination will never die, and all of his particular ways are welcome in my life.
Forever.
For eternity.
And beyond that, too.
Miller once told me he was on his way to hell. That only I could save him.
We’ve been there together.
But we’ve clawed our way out together.
I smile to myself when he takes a curious glimpse out of the corner of his eye, finding me staring at him intently. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asks, returning his attention forward as we reach his front door. I’m placed on my feet with the utmost care before he opens the door and gestures me inside. I pad slowly into his flat and soak up the surroundings. I don’t question the sense of belonging. ‘I’m thinking that I’m glad to be home.’ I smile when I hear a quiet hitch of surprised breath from behind me, but remain in position, happily reminding myself of his palatial, perfect flat.
‘You don’t have a choice in the matter,’ he snorts, blatantly forcing indifference when I know it means the world to him.
‘We’ll need a nursery.’ I’m poking him, and I’m going to take a huge amount of pleasure from his reaction when he finally registers that babies equal mess. Now that there’s room in his mind for stuff other than depressing heartache, I expect that realisation may come soon.
‘I concur,’ he replies simply, making my smile widen.
‘And there will be baby paraphernalia everywhere all the time.’
He’s not so quick to counter my poke this time. ‘Elaborate.’
I surrender to the overwhelming enticement of catching what I know will be mild panic settling on his face and turn to relish in it, ridding my face of all amusement. ‘Nappies, romper suits, bottles, powdered milk all over the worktop in your kitchen.’ I bite down on my lip when the panic intensifies before my eyes. He rests his hands casually in his trouser pockets and relaxes his standing position, attempting to disguise it. He fails terribly. ‘The list is endless,’ I add.
He shrugs nonchalantly on a pout. ‘They’re tiny little things. I can’t imagine he or she will cause too much disruption.’
I could squeeze him to death. He clearly needs it. ‘Really, Miller?’
‘Well there will be no powdered milk because you’ll be breast-feeding. And we’ll have places for all of the other stuff. You’re creating issues.’
‘Your perfect world is about to explode into a million pieces, Miller Hart.’
He gives me that glorious dimpled grin, eyes sparkling and all. Then I smile as he stalks towards me and tackles me, carrying me through the lounge with my front pinned against his chest. ‘My perfect world has never been more perfect and light, Olivia Taylor.’ He hits me with a hard kiss, and I laugh into his mouth. ‘And it’s only going to get brighter, sweet girl.’
‘I concur,’ I agree as he takes us into his bedroom, and yelp when he launches me from his arms. I land on his perfect bed, sending his decorative cushions sailing in every direction. I’m a little stunned, even more so when Miller catapults himself towards me, fully dressed. ‘What are you doing?’ I laugh, accommodating his silent demand and opening up to him when he pushes my thighs apart.
He starts yanking at the sheets around us, pulling them out of position, bunching them into creased balls here and there. I can do no more than watch him in action, squealing in shock and delight when he starts rolling us across the bed, tangling us up in the white cotton.
‘Miller!’ I laugh, losing sight of him and the rest of the room when I become buried beneath the material. I’m all caught up, the sheets tugging tightly every time I try to move, Miller laughing and cursing as he tries to unravel us but only ending up knotting us more.
I’m being rolled repeatedly. I’m underneath him, then above him. We’re bound tightly together by the bedding, blind and laughing.
‘I’m stuck!’ I chuckle, trying to kick my legs out. ‘I can’t move!’