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‘Wrong.’ He pulls his head away, making me lose my grip. ‘I didn’t before, and I especially don’t now.’

His harsh reminder of what came before the rightness of this moment halts my tempting tactic in their tracks. ‘Thank you for keeping me,’ I whisper.

‘Don’t thank me. This is happening.’ He abruptly pulls out and gently turns me over, pulling my h*ps upward before slowly sliding back into me. My face buries in the pillow, biting at the cotton as he continuously thrusts back and forth, painstakingly slowly. He’s wreaking havoc on my senses, and I find my body falling into his momentum, gliding back onto each of his drives. He’s moving again, flipping me back over and guiding my legs until they’re draped over his shoulders and he’s inside me once more, pushing deep.

He’s sweating, his waves a delightful mess of wet and his stubble glistening. ‘I love seeing your body move.’

I allow my eyes a glimpse of his chest, finding ripples of muscle riding up his torso with every push forward. I’m on the brink of detonation, but trying to rein it in so I can indulge in him some more. Finding his eyes again, I warm further when he blesses me with another one of his beautiful smiles.

‘I guarantee you, Livy. What you’re looking at isn’t a whisper of the beauty in my view.’

‘Wrong,’ I breathe seriously, reaching up to touch him. He exceeds perfection to the point of inflicting pain on my eyes.

‘We’ll agree to disagree, sweet girl.’ He grinds with purpose, making it impossible for me to argue with him. ‘Good?’

‘Yes!’

‘I concur.’ He drops a shoulder, letting my leg slide down his arm so he can lower his torso. ‘Put your hands above your head.’

‘I want to touch you,’ I complain, my wandering hands going off on a feeling frenzy.

‘Put your hands over your head, Livy.’ He reinforces his command with a sharp thrust, sending my head flying back, along with my hands. Lowering to his forearms, he rests his palms on the undersides of my arms and strokes to match the tempo of his hips. His blue eyes are wild with passion.

‘Are you ready, Livy?’

I nod, then shake my head, then nod again. ‘Miller!’

He groans, taking his rhythm up a level. ‘Livy, I’m going to send you crazy with pleasure daily, so you’re going to have to learn to control your body.’

Now my head is shaking, my body being attacked by persistent shots of pleasure. It’s becoming too much. ‘Please,’ I beg, looking up into eyes full of triumph. He loves making me crazy. He thrives on it. ‘You’re doing this on purpose.’

My other leg is released and he completely cages me in with his body, preventing me from wriggling, moving, or shaking. I can’t hold out any longer. I’ll pass out.

‘Of course I am,’ he agrees. ‘If you could see what I’m seeing, you’d drag it out, too.’

‘Don’t torture me,’ I groan, flicking my h*ps up.

He dips and kisses me. ‘I’m not torturing you, Livy. I’m showing you how it should be.’

‘You’re making me crazy,’ I breathe. He doesn’t need to show me. He’s done that every time he’s worshipped me.

‘And it’s the most satisfying sight.’ He bites at my lip. ‘Would you like to come?’

I nod and lift my arms from my head, and he doesn’t stop me. I find his shoulders, my hands slipping everywhere, and kiss the hell out of him. I’m relentless with my tongue as he pushes me higher and higher, and then it happens. He bucks on a yell, I scream on a violent arch of my body, and we both begin to shake and pulse. I’m utterly replete, and once my shakes have subsided, I’m totally limp. Useless. I can’t talk, I can’t move, and I can’t see straight. He’s twitching within me, still circling firmly.

‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’ he puffs into my neck, but I can’t answer him. I’m breathless, my mind scrambled, and I attempt a shrug that is executed as more of a spasm. ‘I’ll give you the bad news,’ he says when it becomes obvious that an answer is not forthcoming. ‘The bad news is I’m paralysed. I can’t bloody move, Livy.’

If I had the energy, I’d smile, but I’m a despondent pile of twitching nerve endings. So I hum my response and attempt a little squeeze of him. It’s feeble.

‘The good news is,’ he pants, ‘we haven’t got to go anywhere, so we can stay like this for ever. Am I heavy?’

He’s very heavy but I haven’t got the strength or inclination to tell him so. He’s all over me, covering every square inch, our sweaty skin rubbing everywhere. I hum my non-committal reply again, my eyes closing with exhaustion.

‘Livy?’ he whispers softly.

‘Hmmm?’

‘No matter what happened, you really are my sweet girl. Nothing will change that.’

My eyes open and I find the energy to respond. ‘I’m a woman, Miller,’ I say, needing him to realise I’m no girl. I’m a woman and I have needs, and one of those needs – the biggest one – is now Miller Hart.

Chapter 20

It was inevitable that he would abandon me. All his actions, reassuring words and comfort were far too good to be true. I should have known that from the guilt plaguing his face when he stopped me from leaving. I wish he’d never come after me. I wish he’d never let his compassion take over and force him into comforting me. It’s made it so much harder to bear. The darkness is constant and the agony relentless. Everything hurts – my brain for thinking too much, my body for missing his touch and my eyes for not seeing him. I’m not sure how long it has been since he left me. Days. Weeks. Months. It could be longer.