Promised (One Night 1)

‘And what about you?’ I ask on a whisper. ‘I know about that woman.’

‘She’s dealt with.’

Dealt with? So he had to deal with her? ‘And she accepted that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why would it matter if she’s just a business associate?’

‘Like I said last night, it doesn’t, but it does to you so I told her about you and let that be the end of it.’

I scowl across the table at him. ‘I don’t know anything about you.’

‘You know about my club.’

‘Only because I landed there by accident. I doubt I would’ve found out if I had waited to be told, and I’m certain you wouldn’t have had me there by choice.’

‘Wrong.’

I frown at his one word, assertive counter.

‘You were on the guest list, Livy. If I had wanted to keep you away, I would’ve had you removed from it.’

I snap my mouth shut and cast my mind back to what I can remember before the champagne and tequila took hold. ‘You were watching me all evening, weren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I was with Gregory.’

‘You were.’

‘Did you think that he was my date?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you didn’t like it?’

‘No.’

Just like he didn’t like seeing me with Luke. ‘You were jealous,’ I tell him, wondering at what point he figured out that Gregory’s g*y. Maybe the dance floor. Or maybe the toilet. He’s been working at Ice, but my friend isn’t obviously camp. He’s a strapping bloke who turns as many women’s heads as he does g*y men’s.

‘Frighteningly,’ he confirms.

I was right and I’m glad, but is he going to give me more than one word? ‘What’s in it for me?’ I ask, knowing damn well what he’s going to say.

‘Pleasure.’

I sag at the table. Pleasure delivered by Miller is the ultimate prize . . . nearly. But what I want is his constant loving, like how he is when he has me in his thing or in his bed. ‘You’re asking me to make myself exclusive to you?’

‘Yes.’

I’m absolutely fine with that, but given the circumstances of this conversation and how it’s come about, I’m not sure this will mean that Miller is exclusively mine. ‘And what about you?’

‘Me?’

‘Will you stop speaking in monosyllables?’ I snap.

He leans across the table. ‘I beg your pardon.’

‘You can beg all you like,’ I hiss back, fury burning in my gut. ‘You won’t be getting any pardon from me.’

‘I beg to differ.’

‘There you go again!’ I push my bowl away from my place setting and it collides with the glass fruit bowl, knocking it out of position. ‘Begging!’ I watch as his eyes focus on the disturbed items on his perfect table, and he starts twitching, a flash of anger flying across his face. It makes me sit up and take notice.

More calmly than I know he’s feeling, he spends a few silent moments putting everything back into position, then he stands and my eyes follow him around the table until I can no longer see him. He’s behind me, and I tense when his palms rest on my shoulders, delivering a shot of fire through the material of his T-shirt and into my skin.

‘It is you who will be begging, sweet girl.’ His mouth is at my ear, biting at my lobe. ‘You will accept my request because we both know that you’re constantly wondering how you will survive without my attention.’ His thumbs start massaging delicious, firm circles into my shoulders.

‘Don’t pretend that this is all about my needs,’ I breathe, wanting to relax into his touch but refusing to grant my body the further pleasure that it’s craving. He said he couldn’t have me in the very beginning and in actual fact, he couldn’t stay away.

His hands are gone in a moment and I’m being lifted from the chair. ‘I don’t pretend, Livy.’ He starts a slow walk forward, forcing me to step back until I’m being gently pushed into the wall. ‘This is just as much for my needs, which is why I’m making this proposition, and it’s also why you will accept.’

My mind is doing an amazing job of preventing the desire from steaming forward. It’s there, but so is the desire for answers. ‘You’re making this sound like a business transaction.’

‘I work hard. I’m emotionally and physically drained by it. I want to have you to worship and indulge in when I’m done.’

‘I think you might be referring to a relationship,’ I whisper.

‘Call it what you like. I want you to be at my disposal.’

I’m horrified, delighted . . . unsure. For a man who’s so articulate, he has a pretty strange way with words. ‘I think I’d like to call it a relationship,’ I say, just so he knows exactly what page I’m on.

‘As you wish.’ He dips and finds my mouth, wrapping his forearm around the small of my back and lifting me, crushing me to his chest. I fall straight into the tender rhythm of his tongue, cocking my head to the side and sighing into his mouth, but my mind is still mulling over the weird words that have just been exchanged. Is Miller Hart now my boyfriend? Am I his girlfriend? ‘Stop overthinking,’ he mumbles into my mouth, turning and carrying me from the kitchen.

‘I’m not.’

‘Yes, you are.’

‘You confuse me.’ My legs curl around his waist, my arms around his body.

‘Take me as I am, Livy.’ He releases my lips and squeezes me to him. It’s a silent, pleading follow-up to his words.