One Night: Unveiled, Page 8

  ‘A mild flutter of my heart, that’s all.’

  ‘You make it sound like you’ve been on a date!’ I laugh.

  ‘Tell me about New York.’

  My laughter is sucked up in a second and I’m back to fidgeting awkwardly as I search my brain for anything to say. Nothing is coming to me.

  ‘I asked you to tell me about New York, Olivia,’ she says soothingly, and I chance a glance at her, finding a face to match her tone. ‘Not how you came to be there.’

  My lips must be white from the force of them pressed together in an attempt to stop my emotion from gushing out on a sob. I couldn’t love this woman any more. ‘I missed you so much.’ My voice is ragged, and I let her pull me into a hug when she reaches for me.

  ‘Darling girl, I missed you terribly.’ She sighs, holding me to her squidgy body. ‘Although I was kept busy feeding three strapping men.’

  I frown into her bosom. ‘Three?’

  ‘Yes.’ Nan lets me free from her embrace and brushes my blonde mane from my face. ‘George, Gregory, and William.’

  ‘Oooh,’ I breathe, visions of all three men gathered around Nan’s dinner table, tucking into some hearty meals, crawling all over my mind. How cosy. ‘You’ve been feeding William?’

  ‘Yes.’ She shows complete indifference with a flap of her wrinkled hand. ‘I’ve been looking after all of them.’

  Despite my growing concern at the news that Nan and William have evidently been keeping cosy company, I smile. While Nan’s slightly delusional mind thinks she’s the one who’s been looking after them, I know different. William said he’d take care of her, but even if he wasn’t in the picture, I know Gregory and George would do a fine job. But my smile soon recedes when I remember where we are. In a hospital. Because Nan’s had a heart attack.

  ‘Time’s up.’ Miller’s soft voice pulls my attention, and I watch as his eyes dull from the lovely, relaxed twinkle into concern.

  He gives me a questioning look, which I ignore, shaking my head a little and standing. ‘We’re being booted out,’ I say, leaning down to hug Nan.

  She embraces me hard, squeezing some of my guilt away. She knows I’ll blame myself. ‘Smuggle me out with you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ I remain where I am, surrounded by Nan, until she’s the one to break our clinch. ‘Please, be a good girl for the doctors.’

  ‘Yes,’ Miller interjects, stepping forward and kneeling down next to me to get level with Nan. ‘I’ve been craving beef Wellington, and I know no other who can make it like you, Josephine.’

  Nan visibly turns to mush in her chair, and happiness sails through me. She cups Miller’s shadowed cheek and moves in, getting almost nose to nose with him. He doesn’t shy away. In fact, he welcomes her tender gesture, placing his hand over hers while she feels him.

  I just watch in wonder as they share a private moment in the openness of the ward, everything around them seeming to pale into insignificance as a million words are passed between their locked eyes.

  ‘Thank you for taking care of my baby,’ Nan whispers, so quietly I almost don’t hear.

  I’m biting my lip again as Miller takes her hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing the back tenderly. ‘Until there is no breath left in my lungs, Mrs Taylor.’

  Chapter 7

  I settle in the back of William’s car, feeling like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders. There are a million other burdens that should have me crumbling under their pressure, but I can’t think past the elation of seeing with my own eyes that Nan is OK.

  ‘My place, please, Ted,’ Miller says, reaching over to me. ‘Come here.’

  I ignore his outstretched hand. ‘I want to go home.’

  Ted pulls into traffic, and I catch him glimpsing in the rearview mirror, that fond smile gracing his friendly, rugged face. I narrow suspicious eyes on him briefly, even though he’s no longer looking at me, then return my attention to Miller. He’s watching me thoughtfully, his hand still hovering between us. ‘I’m being intuitive here, and I’m going to suggest that when you say “home”, you don’t mean my place.’ His hand drops to the seat.

  ‘Your place isn’t my home, Miller.’ Nan’s traditional terrace house, full of clutter and that familiar, comforting smell, is my home. And I need to be surrounded by all things Nan right now.

  Miller’s fingers tap the leather seat, his eyes regarding me carefully. I retreat in my chair, wary.

  ‘I have a request,’ he murmurs, before reaching across to claim my right hand that’s currently spinning my new diamond ring repeatedly on my finger.

  ‘What?’ The word rolls from my mouth slowly. Something tells me he’s not going to request me to never stop loving him. He knows how I’ll answer that request, and his slightly ticking jaw tells me he’s nervous of the answer that I might give to this one.

  He starts his own twiddling session of my diamond, thinking hard as he watches his playing fingers, leaving me with a whirling mind, bracing myself for him to voice his wish. It’s a long¸ long, uncomfortable time before he takes a deep breath and his blue eyes lazily crawl up my body until his bottomless pits of emotion sink into me. They steal my breath away . . . make me comprehend very quickly that what he’s about to ask means a lot to him. ‘I want my home to be your home, too.’

  My mouth drops open and my mind blanks. No right words are coming to me. Except one. ‘No,’ I blurt on a rush of air before I consider wording my refusal a little more considerately. I wince at the clear disappointment that jumps onto his perfect face. ‘I mean . . .’ My damn brain is failing to load my mouth with anything that could redeem myself, and guilt is instantly crippling me for being the cause of his hurt.

  ‘You are not staying alone.’

  ‘I need to be at home.’ My eyes drop, no longer prepared to face the pleading in his intense stare. He doesn’t come back at me with an argument, instead sighing and squeezing my little hand in his. ‘To Livy’s home, please, Ted,’ he instructs quietly before falling silent.

  I look up to see him staring out the window. He’s pensive. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper, shuffling across the seat to curl into his side. I’m not encouraged or helped and he doesn’t welcome me once I’m settled, keeping his eyes on the outside world whizzing past the window.

  ‘Don’t ever thank me,’ he answers quietly.

  ‘Lock the door,’ Miller says, my cheeks cupped in his palms, his worried eyes scanning my face as we stand on the doorstep. ‘Don’t answer to anyone. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve collected some clean clothes.’

  My forehead wrinkles. ‘Should I expect visitors?’

  The worry disappears in a flash and is replaced with exasperation. After our words in the car, I knew I had scored a victory, but I honestly never expected Miller to so willingly stay here. I want him to, of course, but I wasn’t about to test his already fraying patience. I’ve done that already by insisting I be here and that I be here right this moment. I wasn’t prepared to be dragged over to the other side of town so Miller could check his flat and collect some clean clothes. It would have been an opportunity for him to lock me inside. And I’ve no doubt he would have. But I’m not delusional enough to kid myself that Miller staying here has anything to do with my fraught mind where Nan is concerned.

  ‘Less of the sass, Olivia.’

  ‘You love my sass.’ I take his hands from my cheeks and return them to him. ‘I’m going to take a shower.’ Reaching up on my tiptoes, I kiss his stubbled jaw. ‘Be quick.’

  ‘I will,’ he breathes.

  I pull away and register his evident exhaustion. He looks drained. ‘I love you.’ I step back until I’m in the hallway and take the door handle.

  A strained smile tickles his lips and he shoves his hands into his jean pockets as he starts retreating backwards down the path. ‘Lock the door,’ he repeats.

  I nod my acceptance and slowly shut the door, immediately bolting the locks and putting the safety chain on, knowing he won’t l
eave until he hears them all shift into place. Then I spend too long staring down the long hallway to the back kitchen, waiting for the familiar, comforting sound of Nan pottering around. Of course, it never comes, so I resort to closing my eyes and imagining her there. After standing motionless for an age, I finally convince my depleted body to carry me towards the stairs.

  But I pull to an abrupt halt when there’s a knock on the front door. With a furrowed brow, I move towards it and go to unbolt the locks, but something halts me. It’s Miller’s voice telling me not to answer to anyone. I draw breath to ask who it is and quickly stop myself. Instinct?

  Stepping silently back from the door, I sneak into the lounge and approach the bay window. My senses are all on high alert. I feel apprehensive, nervous, and I jump a mile when the door is rapped again. ‘Fucking hell!’ I blurt, probably too loudly. My damn heart bangs relentlessly in my chest as I tiptoe towards the window and peek past the curtain.

  A face appears.

  ‘Fuck!’ I screech, staggering back from the window. I clutch my chest, heaving shocked breaths while allowing my eyes and mind to register a face I recognise. ‘Ted?’ I gasp, my face screwing up in confusion. He smiles that fond smile and gives his head a little flick towards the front door before he’s gone from view. I roll my eyes and swallow in an attempt to push my heart down from my throat. ‘Trying to give me frigging heart failure,’ I mutter, making my way to the front door, knowing for sure that he’s been here the whole time since Miller left, on lookout.

  I unbolt the door and swing it open. A body barrels towards me, and I barely jump out of the way in time. ‘Shit!’ I cry, pinning myself to the wall of the hallway. My poor heart hasn’t yet recovered from the shock of Ted’s face at the window.

  Miller pushes past me with his suitcase and dumps it at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Was Ted keeping guard?’ I ask, wanting confirmation. Am I to expect this all the time? My own personal bodyguard?

  ‘Did you honestly think I would leave you alone?’ Miller strides past me again, my head turning and following his path until I’m watching his back getting farther away as he stalks down the pathway to Ted, who’s closing the boot of the Lexus. ‘Thank you.’ Miller passes Ted his keys before offering a hand to William’s driver.

  ‘Most welcome.’ Ted smiles and shakes Miller’s hand, then looks past Miller to me. ‘Good evening, Miss Taylor.’

  ‘Evening,’ I murmur, watching Miller turn and return up the garden path. Ted slides into the driver’s seat and is gone in the blink of an eye. Then the world disappears as Miller shuts the front door and secures the locks.

  ‘We need to upgrade security,’ he grumbles, turning to find my dumbstruck face. ‘You OK?’

  I blink repeatedly, looking from the door to him, back and forth. ‘There are two bolts, a Yale, a mortise, and a chain.’

  ‘And I still got past it,’ he says, reminding me of the occasions when he broke into my home, just to get his thing.

  ‘Because I looked out the window, saw it was Ted, and then opened the door,’ I retort.

  He smiles his acknowledgement to my sass but doesn’t retaliate.

  ‘I need a shower.’

  ‘I’d love to join you,’ he whispers, low and primal, stepping forward. My arms drop and my blood heats. He takes another step forward. ‘I’d love to settle my hands on your wet shoulders and work them over every breathtaking inch of your body until there’s only space in that beautiful mind of yours for me.’

  He’s succeeded already and he hasn’t even touched me yet, but I nod anyway and stand quietly until he’s before me, lifting me to his body. I wrap around him and my face sinks into his neck as he climbs the stairs and takes us to the bathroom, setting me on my feet once we arrive. I smile and lean over to turn the water on, then begin stripping down. ‘There isn’t much room,’ I say, tossing my clothes into the wash basket one by one until I’m naked.

  His head bobs a little on an agreeable nod, and he takes the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it up over his head. The muscles of his stomach and chest roll as a result of the move, keeping my focus on his torso. My tired eyes blink a few times, then drop to his legs when he peels off his jeans. I sigh dreamily.

  ‘Earth to Olivia.’ The softness of his tone pulls my eyes to his, and I smile, stepping forward to place my palm on the centre of his chest. After a physically and mentally draining day, I just need to feel him and take my comfort from touching him.

  I’m allowed to trace the planes of his chest, my eyes following the slow path I’m making, Miller’s head dropped to watch me. I feel his hands rest on my waist lightly, like he’s being careful not to disturb my thoughtful motions. My touch drifts up to his shoulders, onto his neck, and across his dark jaw until I’m at his full, mesmerising lips. They part slowly and my finger slips between them, my head tilting a little on a diminutive smile when he bites down lightly.

  Then our eyes meet and a million unspoken words collide between us. Love. Adoration. Passion. Desire. Want. Need . . .

  I pull my finger free and we both move forward slowly.

  And all of those things intensify when our mouths join. My eyes close, my palms slip onto his waist, and my neck is seized in his grasp, holding me secure while he spends an eternity worshipping my mouth. I’m swallowed up and carried off to a place where only Miller and I exist, a place Miller has created for me to run away to. Somewhere safe. Somewhere calm. Somewhere perfect.

  His hold of me is so strong, always is, and the power he exudes is mind-bending, but his constant tenderness douses that control somewhat. Yet there is never any mistaking that Miller is always the one driving things. There’s no denying he rules my body and heart. He knows what I need and when I need it, and he displays this in every element of our relationship, not just when he’s worshipping me. Like when I needed to go to the hospital immediately. Like when I needed to come home and immerse myself in Nan’s lingering presence. Like I needed him to remove himself from his perfect world and be here with me.

  Our kiss slows, but Miller’s hold of me doesn’t ease. After nibbling at my bottom lip, then my nose and my cheek, he pulls away and my torn eyes are faced with their usual dilemma. Not knowing which to focus on, my gaze drifts repeatedly from his blistering blues to his mesmerising mouth.

  ‘Let’s get you showered, my gorgeous girl.’

  We spend a blissful half hour under the hot spray. The space restriction makes it a very intimate shower, although I wouldn’t expect it to be anything less, even if we had acres of space. My palms on the tiled wall, I drop my head, my eyes watching the soapy water disappear down the drain while the heavenly sensation of Miller’s smooth, soapy palms work into every tired muscle in my body. My hair is shampooed and conditioner smoothed through to the ends. I remain still and quiet the whole time, only moving when he positions me how he needs me. After raining soft kisses over every part of my wet face, he helps me from the tub and dries me off before guiding me to my room.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ he asks, pulling the brush through my wet strands.

  I shake my head and ignore the slight falter in his movements behind me, but he doesn’t argue. I’m placed in bed and he crawls in behind me until our naked bodies are locked tightly together and his lips are performing a lazy dance across my shoulders. Sleep finds me easily, assisted by the low hum of Miller and his heat compressed to every available part of my back.

  Chapter 8

  A commotion yanks me from my dreams and has me pelting down the stairs at a ridiculous rate. I land in the kitchen, still half asleep, naked and with slightly blurred vision. I blink repeatedly to clear my sight, until I’m staring at Miller, who’s standing bare-chested with a box of cornflakes in his hand.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asks, worried eyes scanning my naked frame.

  Reality slams into my waking brain, a reality where it’s not Nan pottering around the kitchen looking happy and at home; it’s Miller looking awkward and out of place. Raging gui
lt consumes me for being disappointed. ‘You startled me,’ is all I can think to say, and suddenly very alert, I register my naked form and start backing out of the kitchen. I indicate over my shoulder. ‘I’ll just get some clothes on.’

  ‘OK,’ he agrees, watching me closely as I disappear down the hallway. My sigh is heavy as I take the stairs and my actions subdued as I tug on some knickers and a T-shirt. Once I’ve made it back downstairs, I find the table set for breakfast and Miller looking even more out of place, sitting with his phone to his ear. He indicates for me to take a seat, which I do slowly while he continues with his call. ‘I’ll be in around lunchtime,’ he says, clipped and to the point before hanging up and setting his phone down. He gazes across the table at me, and I note after only a few seconds of studying him that he’s slipping into that emotionless man who repels everyone. We’re back in London. All that’s missing is his suit.

  ‘Who was that?’ I ask, picking up the pot of tea that’s steaming in the centre of the table and pouring myself a cup.

  ‘Tony.’ His reply is as curt and short as he was with Tony just now.

  Dumping the teapot a little heavy-handed to my right, I make quick work of adding milk and stirring, and then watch in astonishment when Miller leans over the table and takes the pot, placing it exactly back in the centre of the table. Then he tweaks it a little more.

  I sigh, taking a sip of my tea and immediately wince at the taste. I swallow hard and put the mug down. ‘How many tea bags did you put in there?’

  He frowns and looks at the pot. ‘Two.’

  ‘Doesn’t taste like it.’ It tastes like warmed milk. I reach over to take the lid off and peek inside. ‘There are none in here.’

  ‘I took them out.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they’d block the spout.’

  I smile. ‘Miller, a million teapots in England have tea bags steeping inside. The spouts never get blocked.’