Denied (One Night 2)

He’s frantic in his task. After grabbing the sponge and loading it with shower gel, he carelessly tosses the bottle to the floor before scrubbing at his skin. I’m alarmed, not only by his uncharacteristic show of untidiness, but also by his urgency to clean his body, and so harshly. He’s scrubbing, working the sponge everywhere, rinsing and reloading with more shower gel. Steam is quickly engulfing the huge space, telling me the shower is far too hot, not that he seems affected. ‘Miller.’ I take a few paces, getting more and more concerned the steamier the room becomes. ‘Miller, please!’ I slap my palm on the glass to try and get his attention. His hair is sopping and hanging all over his face, hampering his vision, but he’s not deterred. There’s a mixture of terror and anger being injected into the desperate motions of the sponge flying across his body. He’s going to blister himself. ‘Miller, stop it!’ I try to enter the shower fully dressed, but jump out when the water makes contact with me. ‘Shit!’ It’s scorching hot. ‘Miller, turn the water off!’

‘I can’t stand it!’ he yells, scooping the shower gel from the floor and squeezing the bottle all over his chest. ‘They make my skin crawl! I can feel them through my clothes!’

My breath catches in my throat, his words registering loud and clear. But that’s the least of my worries. He’s going to injure himself terribly if I don’t get him out. ‘Miller, listen to me.’ I try for a calming tone, but my voice is anxious, and I cannot help it.

‘I have to be clean! I need to remove every trace of them from me.’

I need to get in and shut the shower off, but even from the outside the water is scalding me. ‘Turn the shower off!’ I shout, losing my composure. ‘Miller! Turn the f**king shower off!’ I’m ignored, and when his scrubbing moves from his chest to his arms, I see angry red welts materialising on his pecs. It kicks my scared arse into action and before I can consider the pain I’ll endure, I’m in the shower, feeling the wall for the controls. ‘Shit shit shit!’ I yell as I’m attacked by blisteringly hot water from every angle.

I push Miller’s body out of my way, snapping him from his insanity, and frantically turn the knob to halt the infliction of pain on both Miller and me. When the water dries up above us, I roll my back against the wall, exhausted, my skin stinging and sore, and wait for the steam to disperse, revealing Miller’s naked, motionless form. He’s expressionless. There is nothing on that heart-stopping face, not even a hint of discomfort after tolerating the boiling shower for far longer than I did.

I move towards him and reach up to gently stroke the wet strands of hair out of his face as I gather the depleted air that has been sucked from my lungs. ‘Don’t ever try to push me away again,’ I warn firmly. ‘I love you, Miller Hart. All of you.’

His tortured blue eyes drag slowly up my wet, slumped body and gaze longingly at me. ‘How?’ He asks the simple, reasonable question on a whisper. This man has tested my resilience to the absolute maximum. He’s tossed me from crippling despair to crippling pleasure. He’s made me reckless, stupid, blind . . . and he’s made me brave.

I can love him because he touches my soul.

‘I love you,’ I repeat, feeling no need to justify it to anyone, not even Miller. ‘I love you,’ I murmur. ‘I won’t go down without a fight. I’ll take anyone on and I’ll win against them all. Even you.’ My palm cups his nape and pulls his face to mine, watching as he scans my face with blank eyes. ‘I’m strong enough to love you.’ My lips push to his, instigating our reunion, and my tongue delicately enters his mouth, coaxing a moan before he pulls away.

‘I couldn’t do it,’ he says quietly. ‘I couldn’t do it to you, Livy.’ He lifts me to his body, my thighs curling around his hips, but I’m mindful of his tender skin, keeping my hands on his shoulders. I can’t stop my face from seeking the comfort of his neck, though. I lay my cheek on his shoulder and inhale him into me, feeling the solace he feeds me sink into my body through our contact. He couldn’t do it.

‘I want to worship you,’ I say into his neck, my hot breath colliding with his heated skin. The mixture of the two is almost intolerable. I need to remind him of what we have. I need to show him I can do this. That he can do this.

‘I do the worshipping.’

‘Not today.’ I unwrap myself from his body and lead him from the shower, taking him to his bed and pushing him down to the sheets. His tall body stretches across the mattress as he watches me arrange his limbs until I’m sure he’s comfortable. Then I kiss his impassive face and leave him to relax while I start running a bath. I ensure the water is only tepid and look through his ridiculously neat cupboard, making sure I don’t upset his perfect arrangement of bottles, tubes and pots until I find some bath soak. The horrific mess that I’ve left his wardrobe in is likely to make him disintegrate, but I’ll deal with that later. I’m not delusional enough to think that a picnic in the park and a kiss in the rain have eliminated Miller’s obsessive ways completely.

Leaving the bath running, I remove my sodden dress and wander back into the bedroom, then start to collect his discarded clothes, probably the only ones that he still has intact. I fold them neatly and place them in a pile on a dresser, glancing up when I feel blue eyes burning my na**d skin.

‘What?’ I ask, shifting under his close scrutiny.

‘I’m just thinking how lovely you look tidying my bedroom.’ He shifts onto his side and props his head on his bent arm. ‘Continue.’