Denied (One Night 2)

‘We’ll do brunch.’ I don’t allow him to break our kiss, reaching to his neck and pulling him in.

‘You need to eat.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Olivia,’ he warns, ‘please. I’d like to feed you and I’d like you to accept.’

‘Strawberries?’ I try. ‘British for the sweetness and dipped in yummy dark chocolate.’

‘I don’t think we’ll get away with that in public.’

‘Then let’s go back to your place.’

‘You’re insatiable.’

‘It’s you.’

‘Agreed. I’ve awakened this unquenchable desire in you and I’m the only man who’ll ever get to sate it.’

‘Agreed.’

‘I’m glad we’ve cleared that up, not—’

‘That I have a choice, I know.’ I bite his lip and drag it through my teeth. ‘I don’t want a choice.’

‘Good job.’ He places me on my feet and looks up at me with soft eyes, a hint of a smile gracing his lovely lips.

‘What?’ I ask, mirroring his mild beam.

Smooth hands slide around to my bum and pull me between his spread thighs. Then he plants a light kiss on my tummy. ‘I was just thinking how lovely you look standing na**d before me.’ His chin rests on my navel and he gazes up at me, his divine blues bursting with contentment. ‘What would you like to do today?’

‘Oh . . .’ My brain kicks into gear, running over all of the fun stuff we could do together. I bet Miller’s never partaken in fun stuff. ‘Roam, meander, wander.’ I’d love to ramble the streets of London with Miller, point out my favourite buildings and give him a rundown on their histories. Mind you, he’s hardly dressed for wandering. My eyes flick over his perfectly precise three-piece suit on a frown.

‘You mean walk?’ he asks, a little taken aback, pulling my eyes back to his. He doesn’t seem impressed.

‘Nice walking.’

‘Where?’

I shrug, a little saddened that Miller doesn’t appear to find my idea of fun very appealing. ‘What do you suggest, then?’

He ponders my question for a few moments before he speaks. ‘I have lots to do at Ice. You could come and tidy my office.’

I recoil in disgust. His office is clinical. It doesn’t need tidying, and no amount of enthusiasm injected into his tone will convince me that going to work with Miller will be fun. ‘You said quality time.’

‘You can sit on my lap while I work.’

‘Don’t be daft.’

‘I’m not.’

I feared he was serious. ‘I’m not taking a day off work just to go to work with you.’ I stand back and fold my arms across my chest, hoping he comprehends just how adamant I am. The smile that graces his yummy lips makes my resolve waver. He’s dishing out smiles left, right and centre, and it’s delightful and maddening all at once. ‘What?’ I ask, thinking I should stop questioning his reasons for his obvious joy and simply accept it without a word. But this exasperating man piques my curiosity constantly.

‘I was just thinking how lovely you look with your arms pushing your br**sts up.’ His eyes gleam relentlessly, and I look down, sizing up my lack of chest.

‘There’s nothing there.’ I push into my boobs a little more, not being able to fathom what he can see that I can’t.

‘They’re perfect.’ He snatches me up quickly, and I squeal as I’m tossed onto the bed and covered in his suit-clad body. ‘I request that they remain exactly how they are.’

‘Okay,’ I agree, just before his mouth swamps me, smothering my lips delicately but purposely. I’m blindsided, totally swallowed up, loving Miller’s relaxed condition. All uptight behaviour is lost.

Well, almost.

‘My suit,’ he murmurs, pecking a path to my ear. ‘My appearance has never been so questionable since you invaded my life, sweet girl.’

‘You look perfect.’

Snorting his disagreement, he lifts from my desire-drenched nakedness and stands to rearrange his suit, finishing by fiddling with the knot of his tie as I watch him. ‘Get dressed.’

I sigh and shift to the edge of the bed as he meanders over to my mirror so he can see what he’s doing. Even though I’m now used to Miller and his fussy ways, my fascination remains strong. Everything about him, everything that he does is always undertaken with the utmost care and attention, and it has fast become endearing . . . except when his temper is unleashed. Kicking that thought away, I leave Miller playing with his tie and get myself ready, throwing on a floral tea dress and some flip-flops before blasting my hair dry and messing with it for a good few minutes, cursing myself for not allowing the conditioner to work its magic before I rinsed. I tie it up, pull it back down, ruffle it a few times, and finally exhale my exasperation at my untamed locks, pulling it into a loose ponytail over my shoulder.

‘Cute,’ Miller concludes when I turn to present myself to him, his eyes taking a leisurely jaunt up and down my frame, still messing with his tie. ‘No Converse today?’

I look down at my pink toenails and wriggle my feet. ‘Don’t you like them?’ I bet Miller’s feet have never seen a pair of flip-flops in their life. In fact, I bet Miller’s feet have been nothing but spoiled with handmade, top-quality fancy leather shoes. He doesn’t even wear trainers at the gym, going barefoot instead.

‘Olivia, you could wear a rag and look like a princess.’