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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 ha**ng s*x with those women. If I hate my own curiosity, then I despise William’s. ‘If they pay to get the best f**k 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.

‘I don’t understand why those women want you like that.’ Good Lord, if they experienced what I have with Miller Hart, if they were worshipped, then I’m certain they would be bashing down the door to get to him.

‘I make them orgasm.’

‘Women pay thousands for an orgasm?’ I blurt. ‘That’s . . .’ I’m about to say obscene, but then I recall each of my own orgasms and Miller’s hint of a smile tells me he knows what I’m thinking. I deflate. ‘You make all women feel as good as I do when you have me in bed.’

He nods.

‘So there’s nothing special about me.’ I sound hurt. I am hurt.

‘I beg to differ,’ he argues, and I’m about to challenge him, but he hushes me with his glorious lips, sweeping his tongue through my mouth slowly. My senses scramble and I completely forget what I was going to say. ‘There’s something very special about you, Olivia.’

‘What?’ I ask, relishing his attention.

‘You make me feel as good as I know I make you feel – something that no one else has ever done or ever will. I had sex with women. Nothing about any of those encounters made my heart race.’

‘You said it was pleasurable,’ I remind him, keeping myself attached to him. ‘I didn’t get any pleasure when you took me like that. Did you?’ I definitely remember him cl**axing.

‘I felt nothing but disgrace before, during, and after.’