One Night: Denied

  ‘What are you thinking?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m thinking I’ve never been shocked in my life,’ he says, reaching up and circling my nipples until they’re bullets, tingling and sensitive, ‘but when you threw that money on the table in Langan’s, I had to resist coughing up my wine.’

  I blush a little at my own brashness, wholeheartedly wishing I never had. ‘I won’t be doing it again.’

  ‘Neither will I,’ he whispers, transferring a hand to my wrist and stroking over the area where the sores have now faded to nothing. ‘I’m so sorry. I was so consumed with desperation to—’

  I pull my arm from his grip and shut him up by dropping my body to his and my lips to his mouth. ‘Please don’t feel guilty.’

  ‘I appreciate your compassion, but nothing you can say will ease my remorse.’

  ‘I pushed you.’

  ‘It’s no excuse.’ He sits up and shifts us to the edge of the bed, placing me on my feet. ‘I’m going to make it up to you, Olivia Taylor,’ he vows, standing and cupping my cheeks in his palms. ‘I’ll make you forget that man.’ His lips meet mine, reinforcing his words, and I nod my acceptance against him. ‘He’s not the man I want to be for you.’

  I let him drown me in his mouth and remorse, let him push me up the wall desperately, let him feel me everywhere. ‘Take me to your bed,’ I plead, needing the comfort and security that being in Miller’s arms and bed brings – something that I’m not wholly feeling here in this hotel room, where the four-poster bed is a constant reminder of an entirely different Miller.

  ‘I’ll do anything you want me to,’ he breathes, letting up a little on his apology kiss and pecking continuously at my lips. ‘Anything you want. Please try to erase what’s happened.’

  ‘Then take me away from here,’ I insist. ‘Get me out of this room.’

  He starts to panic a little, pulling away when he realises the extent of my desperation to escape the reminders. It’s made him desperate, too. He shakes himself into action, removing the condom and getting dressed at lightning speed, not caring for a straight tie or a crease-free suit. He leaves his shirt half unbuttoned and hanging out of his trousers, his waistcoat is thrown on haphazardly and his jacket equally so, before he’s snatching up my dress and quickly getting me into it.

  After grasping my hand, he leads me away from the coldness of the extravagant hotel room. We take the stairs, and he looks back every few steps to check up on me. ‘Am I going too fast?’ he asks while keeping up his determined stride.

  ‘No,’ I answer, my legs struggling to keep up but wanting to go faster. Nothing will get me out of this place quick enough.

  We hit the palatial foyer of the hotel, both of us catching the eye of the posh clientele in our dishevelled state. I’m not concerned by the looks and neither is Miller. He practically throws the room’s key card over the desk to the lady at the reception. He’s as desperate to get out of here as I am.

  The car park feels like miles away, when it is only around the corner. The journey feels like hours when it’s probably only minutes. The stairs to Miller’s apartment feels like thousands, but there are probably only a few hundred. And as soon as the door is shut behind us, my dress is pulled impatiently from my body, my underwear discarded, and I’m lifted up to his carelessly dressed physique and carried across his apartment, while he indulges me in his mouth the whole way, except we don’t enter his bedroom. He takes me to his studio and places me on the sofa, where I sit awkwardly and a little bewildered by his mounting desperation as he hurries out of his clothes, leaving them a pile of expensive material on the floor. Bringing his body down over mine, he engulfs me completely and pins me to the old worn sofa beneath me. His face is in my neck, taking a long inhale of my hair, and then his mouth is on mine, working through delicately with his tongue, humming and moaning as his kiss gets harder, completely defeating the whole purpose of our reunion. It is always me driving things forward and Miller insisting on calm, and now I know why. But worry is getting the better of him.

  I try to slow our kiss, bring it down a few levels, but he’s blinded by purpose to make me forget. It’s not incredibly hard, not at all, yet it’s not what I want or need. ‘Slow down,’ I gasp, breaking away from his lips, but he homes in on my neck, resuming the force there. ‘Miller, please!’

  At my short plea, he bolts upright in shock, his hands delving into his waves. The fear in his eyes is more than I can cope with, and it’s in this moment I realise he’s two entirely different people – physically and emotionally. At least he is now that I’m in his life. I suspect before me he was simply the man disguised as a gentleman and the punishing lover – or escort.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I ask, inching myself up into a sitting position.

  ‘I apologise.’ He stands and walks to the huge window. His naked back in the night glow looks almost ethereal. I feel the overwhelming need to be close to him, but he’s lost in thought and I should let him have those thoughts. For so long, I’ve thought it was just me who’s the damaged half of this relationship. I was so wrong. Miller’s more broken. I’ve seen the result of this lifestyle. I saw the effect it had on my mother and the lifelong impact it’s had on my grandmother. And on me, too. I’ve done some stupid things. Except Miller has no family to affect. There’s only him, no matter how I ask the question. And he isn’t on his way to hell. I’ve pulled him back, but that sobering claim strengthens my hope. Miller has spent too many years doing something he didn’t want to.

  ‘Miller?’

  He slowly turns, and I don’t like what I see.

  Defeatism.

  Sorrow.

  Sadness.

  His head drops. ‘I’m fucked up, Olivia. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’ve apologised enough. Stop saying you’re sorry.’ I can feel the panic flaring in me. ‘Please, come here.’

  ‘I don’t know what I’ll do if you choose to, but you really should run a mile, sweet girl.’

  ‘No!’ I snap, worried by his change in approach to our reunion. ‘Come here.’ I’m about to physically fetch him myself when he starts to make his way over. He sits at the other end of the couch, too far away. ‘Don’t say things like that,’ I warn, lying down on my back and resting my head in his naked lap so I’m looking up at him.

  He drops his head so his eyes meet mine, his hands stroking through my hair. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘If you say that one more time,’ I warn, reaching up to feel his neck out. I pull him down, forcing him to bend so we’re forehead to forehead. ‘I’ll . . .’

  ‘You’ll what?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I admit, ‘but I’ll do something.’ So I kiss him, because that is all there is left to do. And he lets me. It is me setting the delicate pace, me who’s guiding Miller. I’m the strong one right now. Me. It doesn’t matter what has come before me. What matters is that we have both found each other and finally accepted each other. I feel it’s like the blind leading the blind, but my determination is now fierce. I’ve let him break down my barriers and, in the process, I’ve innocently bashed down his, too. This feeling of his lips isn’t something I’m prepared to surrender. This sense of belonging isn’t going to be given up. This is where I’m supposed to be. I’m not prepared to fight against this any more. I have the strength to help him. He gives me that strength.

  He halts our kiss abruptly and breathes heavily in my face, making a deliberate show of stroking my cheeks and hair so very tenderly. ‘Was that you telling me off?’ he asks seriously, dropping a light peck on my nose. ‘Because if so, then I’m sorry.’

  ‘Stop it.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’re being silly.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’ll do something,’ I warn, pulling a little on his hair.

  He shifts my head from his lap and lays himself down, repositioning me so I’m spread all ov
er him, my face level with his. ‘Please do,’ he whispers, putting his lips close to mine and blinking teasingly slowly.

  ‘You want me to kiss you?’ I ask quietly, keeping the distance between our mouths minimal and resisting the urge to capture the temptation within licking distance.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He brushes our lips, and I lose all resistance, the enticement of him impossible to fight off. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  My tongue plunges relentlessly but softly, working smoothly and with complete reverence. We’re back to where we belong. My world is right again. Everything can be forgiven, except now there is so much more to forgive. His rules, the ones that prevented me from touching him and kissing him, are being blown out of the water now. I’m feeling him everywhere, kissing him like I’ll never have the pleasure again. It’s loving, meaningful, and completely mind-blanking. It’s perfect.

  ‘I love your punishments,’ he mumbles, twisting onto his side and pulling me closer to his chest, still kissing me and still feeling me everywhere. ‘Stay with me tonight.’

  I’m the one who severs the contact, my lips stinging and swollen. His dark stubble is always so prickly and coarse, but familiar and comforting. I run my palm down his cheek and watch his lips as they part when my thumb drags across them. ‘I don’t want to stay just one night,’ I murmur. My eyes reluctantly climb his nose until I’m staring into blue circles of understanding.

  ‘I want you to stay for ever,’ he replies softly, following up his words with a hard push of his lips on mine. ‘I need to put you in my bed.’ He untangles us from the sofa and picks me up, resuming his kiss as I lie across his arms and he carries me to his bedroom.

  ‘Do you know how you make me feel?’ he asks, placing me gently down and encouraging me to turn onto my front.

  ‘Yes.’ I turn my face into the pillow when he begins a slow, delicate flick of his tongue up the column of my spine, finishing with a soft kiss on my shoulder blade.

  The hard head of his erection teases my opening, making my arse lift fractionally to urge him on. ‘Thank God I have you again.’ He sinks into me on a harsh pull of breath, then holds still, trying to regain control of his breathing. I bite at the pillow, moaning quietly. The hardness of his torso is pressing into my back, pushing me into the mattress, and my fists are balling into the sheets. ‘You’ve taken the only resilient part of me and annihilated it, Livy,’ he whispers hoarsely, performing an easy grind of his hips.

  I turn my heated face back outwards when I feel his lips at my ear and find dark lashes framing sparkling blue eyes. ‘I don’t want to take anything. I want you to give it to me.’

  He retreats slowly and pushes forward firmly, again and again, drawing constant moans of pleasure each and every time. ‘What do you want me to give you?’

  ‘What’s the most resilient part of you?’ I groan the words through an excruciatingly deep thrust.

  ‘My heart, Livy. My heart is the most resilient part of me.’ He loses control momentarily and bucks forward on a bark.

  My chest swells at his admission. ‘Let me see you.’ I wriggle under his body. ‘Please, I need to see you properly.’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ he curses, and quickly slips out of me, allowing me to spin over and grab at his shoulders before he quickly re-enters me, pounding forward uncontrolled. ‘Livy!’ he shouts, pushing his torso up on his arms. He holds still, panting and staring down at me. ‘I’m petrified of you.’

  I tilt my hips up, making him drop his chin to his chest, his waves falling forward as he does. ‘I’m scared of you, too,’ I whisper. ‘Terrified.’

  He lifts his eyes and circles his hips. ‘I’m an emotion virgin, Livy. You’re my first.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ I ask quietly.

  He goes to speak, then seems to think better of it, his eyes darting all over my face. ‘I’ve fallen, Olivia Taylor,’ he whispers.

  I bite down on my bottom lip to prevent a sob slipping free. That’s the only thing that matters. ‘You fascinate me,’ I counter. I’m reaffirming my feeling, making it known that nothing has changed. I’ve wasted too much precious time pushing him away – time that I could have been helping him and making myself stronger.

  He drops to his forearms and starts pumping his hips slowly, carrying me further into rapture. ‘Please don’t drop me,’ he breathes.

  I shake my head and feel the back of his head out, meeting each one of his advances with matching thrusts of my hips. I don’t know what’s happening, but I do know that my feelings are profound. And now they’ve only been strengthened.

  ‘I’ve been saved by a gorgeous, sweet girl,’ he whispers, gazing down at me. ‘She makes my heart quicken and my senses slow.’

  I close my eyes, letting him drive on, the perfection of this moment tearing at my soul.

  ‘I’m going to come,’ he gasps, ‘Olivia!’

  My eyes snap open, my body squirming under his hard physique. His pace has advanced, along with my pleasure. Our bodies are locked together, as are our eyes, and the connection remains intact until we both whimper as our climaxes take hold in unison and both of us go rigid, gasping into each other’s faces. A strange sensation floods me. Literally. My insides are warm, feeling good. Too good.

  ‘You’re not wearing a condom,’ I say quietly.

  Recognition dawns on his perfect face, his gentle drives halting too abruptly. He thinks hard for a few moments before he eventually speaks. ‘I guess I’m not the gentleman I claim to be.’

  I shouldn’t smile, given the serious situation, but I do. Miller’s unusual show of humour, even if it’s inappropriate, makes it impossible not to. ‘You have a dry humour.’

  He pushes into me, deep and high, his semi-hard-on stroking me, reminding me of the rightness of his bareness. ‘There’s nothing dry about our current condition.’

  I laugh. Miller Hart never ceases to amaze me. ‘That’s terrible!’

  ‘It feels pretty damn good to me.’ He flashes me a boyish grin and dips to bite my cheek. He’s right, it feels incredible, but that doesn’t make it a good thing.

  ‘I’ll need to visit my doctor.’ I push my face to his mouth and muster the strength required to hold him tightly.

  ‘I’ll take you. I accept full responsibility.’ Pulling back, he studies me closely. ‘It felt better than I ever imagined. It’ll be difficult to return to condoms.’

  I comprehend something immediately. ‘You knew, didn’t you? The whole time you were aware.’

  ‘It felt too good to stop.’ He kisses my startled face chastely. ‘Besides, we can ask the doctor to prescribe you the pill while we’re there.’

  ‘We can?’

  ‘Yes,’ he answers surely. ‘Now I’ve had you with nothing between us, I’m greedy for more.’

  I have nothing to say to that.

  ‘Would you mind if we slept on the sofa in my studio?’ he asks.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It soothes me, and with you in my thing, too, I’m going to sleep extremely well.’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘Good, not that you had a choice.’ He scoops me up and transports me back to his art studio, where I’m placed neatly on the old squidgy sofa before he mirrors me, pulling me back to his chest and resting his head on mine so we both have the stunning view in sight. The silence surrounding us gives me an opportunity to consider some of the answers I’m still to learn.

  ‘Why wouldn’t you let me kiss you?’ I whisper.

  I feel him stiffen behind me, and I don’t like it. ‘I’m reluctant to answer any more of your questions, Livy. I don’t want you to run away again.’

  I find his hand and bring it to my mouth, kissing it sweetly. ‘I won’t run.’

  ‘Promise me.’

  ‘I promise.’

 
‘Thank you.’ He tugs at me, helping me to turn around and face him. He wants eye contact while we’re conversing. ‘Kissing is a very intimate act,’ he says, pulling my face to his and giving me a long, slow, languid one, both of us humming contentedly.

  ‘So is sex.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’ He pulls away and scans my confused face. ‘There is only intimacy if there is feeling.’

  I absorb his words in an instant. ‘We have feeling.’

  He smiles and makes an elaborate gesture of feeling by coating my face in wet kisses. I don’t stop him. I let him stifle me completely. I drown in his affection until he decides that my face has been given enough intimacy. The knowledge of Miller’s rules, the no kissing or touching, sends a warm feeling of satisfaction deep into the very centre of me, alleviating the anguish that’s crippled me since my discovery. He allows me to kiss him and he allows me to touch and feel him. Those women missed out on something obscenely gratifying.

  ‘You haven’t slept with a woman since you met me?’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘Yet you’ve had’ – I pause, thinking what word I should use – ‘bookings?’

  ‘Dates,’ he corrects me. ‘Yes, I’ve had dates.’

  William’s curiosity gets the better of me. He wondered how Miller managed to uphold his dates without having sex with those women. If I hate my own curiosity, then I despise William’s. ‘If they pay to get the best fuck of their life, then how did you avoid giving it to them?’

  ‘It wasn’t without its difficulties.’ He brushes my hair from my face. ‘I’m not a fan of small talk.’

  ‘You talked?’ I ask, shocked.

  ‘I might have said the odd word when I was paying attention. Most of the time I was thinking of you.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Are we done?’ he asks, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, yet I’m not. I should be. I should be satisfied with his offered information, glad he’s opened up and enlightened me, glad there are no feelings involved. But I’m not. I’m too confused.