Unveiled (One Night 3)

‘Tell me what’s troubling that beautiful mind of yours.’ His sleepy rasp interrupts my thoughts and I turn to find him lying on his side, praying hands resting under his cheek. I force a smile, one I know won’t convince him, and let Miller and all of his perfection distract me from my inner turmoil.

‘Just daydreaming,’ I say quietly, ignoring his doubtful expression. I’ve mentally tortured myself since we boarded that plane, replayed that moment over and over, and my quiet pensiveness has been silently noted by Miller. Not that he’s pressed me on it, leaving me certain that he thinks I’m reflecting on the trauma that has landed us in New York. He would be partly right. Many events, revelations, and visions have plagued my mind since arriving here, making me resentful that I can’t fully appreciate Miller and his devotion to worshipping me.

‘Come here,’ he whispers, remaining still with no gesture or encouragement, only his quiet, commanding words.

‘I was going to make coffee.’ I’m a fool to think I can avoid his questions or concern for much longer.

‘I’ve asked once.’ He pushes himself to his elbow and cocks his head. His lips are pressed into a straight line, and his crystal blue eyes are burning through me. ‘Don’t make me repeat myself.’

I shake my head mildly on a sigh and slip back between the sheets, crawling into his chest while he remains still and allows me to find my place. Once I’m settled, his arms encircle me and his nose goes straight to my hair. ‘Better?’

I nod into his chest and stare across the planes of his muscles while he feels me everywhere and takes deep breaths. I know he’s desperate to comfort and reassure me. But he hasn’t. He’s allowed me my quiet time and I know it’s been incredibly difficult for him. I’m overthinking. I know it, and Miller knows it, too.

He pulls out of the warmth of my hair and spends a few moments arranging it just so. Then he focuses worried blues on mine. ‘Never stop loving me, Olivia Taylor.’

‘Never,’ I affirm, guilt settling deep. I want to reassure him that my love for him shouldn’t be of any concern – none at all. ‘Don’t overthink.’ I reach up and drag my thumb across his full bottom lip and watch as he blinks lazily and shifts his hand to clutch mine at his mouth.

He flattens my palm and kisses the centre. ‘It’s a two-way street, gorgeous girl. I can’t see you sad.’

‘I have you. I couldn’t possibly be sad.’

He gives me a smile and leans forward to plant a delicate kiss on the end of my nose. ‘I beg to differ.’

‘You can beg all you like, Miller Hart.’ I’m quickly seized and pulled onto his front, his thighs spreading so I’m cradled between them. He clenches my cheeks in his palms and reaches forward with his lips, leaving them millimetres away from mine with hot air spreading across my skin. My body’s reaction isn’t something I can help. And I don’t want to.

‘Let me taste you,’ he murmurs, searching my eyes.

I push forward, colliding with his lips, and crawl up his body until I’m straddling his hips and feeling his mood, hard and hot and wedged under my bum. I hum into his mouth, grateful for his tactics to distract me. ‘I think I’m addicted to you,’ I murmur, cupping the back of his head in my palms and pulling impatiently until he’s sitting up. My legs find their way around his waist and his hands palm my bum, pulling me farther into him while we maintain the smouldering slow dance with our tongues.

‘Good.’ He breaks our kiss and shifts me back slightly before reaching over to the cabinet and grabbing a condom. ‘Your period must be due soon,’ he observes, and I nod, reaching to help him, taking it from his hand and ripping the packet open, just as eager to commence worshipping as Miller. ‘Good. Then we can get rid of these.’ It’s rolled on, I’m reclaimed, lifted, and then he clenches his eyes shut as he guides his arousal to my damp opening. I slip down, taking him to the hilt.

My moan of satisfaction is broken and low. Our joining sends every trouble away, leaving room for nothing but unrelenting pleasure and undying love. He’s buried deep, holding still, and my head has dropped back as I dig my nails into his solid shoulders for support. ‘Move,’ I beg, grinding down into his lap, my breath stuttering with need.

His mouth finds my shoulder and his teeth grip gently as he begins guiding me meticulously on his lap. ‘Feel good?’

‘Better than anything I can imagine.’

‘I concur.’ His hips drive up as he grinds me down, pulling pleasure from both of our heaving bodies. ‘Olivia Taylor, I’m so fucking fascinated by you.’

His measured rhythm is beyond perfection, working us both up slowly and lazily, every rotation edging us closer to explosion. The friction against his groin on the tip of my clitoris when he brings me to the end of each swivel has me whimpering and panting, before my body is journeying back around, relieving the delicious pressure, only briefly, until I’m back at that wondrous pinnacle of pleasure. The knowing in his gaze tells me it’s all so very purposeful, the constant slow blinks and the parting of his lush lips only intensifying my desperate condition.

‘Miller,’ I gasp, dropping my face into his neck, losing the ability to keep myself upright on his lap.

‘Don’t deprive me of that face, Olivia,’ he warns. ‘Show it to me.’

I pant, licking and biting at his throat, his stubble scratching at my sweaty face. ‘I can’t.’ His expert worshipping never fails to render me useless.