As I exit his bedroom I freeze, coming face to face with Miller. He’s frowning again. ‘Snooping?’ he asks.
‘No! I was using the bathroom.’
‘That’s not the bathroom; that’s my bedroom.’
I look down the corridor, counting two doors before the one I’m standing outside of. ‘You said third door on my right.’
‘Yes, and that would be the next door.’ He points to the next door, and I look, completely confused.
‘No.’ I turn and point in the other direction. ‘One, two, three.’ I indicate the door behind me. ‘Third door on my right.’
‘The first door is a cupboard.’
I can feel that irritation rising again. ‘It’s still a door,’ I point out. ‘And I wasn’t snooping.’
‘Okay.’ He shrugs his perfect shoulders and slowly blinks those perfect eyes, before taking his perfection in its entirety and strolling down the corridor. ‘This way,’ he calls over his shoulder.
Irritation flares. Who does he think he is? My Converse start a moody march down the corridor in pursuit of him, but when I arrive in the lounge, he’s not there. I gaze around to the various doorways, leading to God only knows where, but he’s nowhere to be seen. All of these unfamiliar emotions are driving me insane.
Irritation, confusion . . . desire, want, lust.
I stomp across to the hallway, yank my bag from the table and head for the door.
‘Where are you going?’ His smooth tone tickles my skin and I turn to see him with a refilled glass.
‘I’m leaving. This was a stupid idea.’
He walks forward, a little surprised. ‘You made a silly mistake by taking the wrong door and that’s a cause to leave?’
‘No, you make me want to leave,’ I counter. ‘The door has nothing to do with it.’
‘I make you uncomfortable?’ he asks. I can detect a little concern in his voice.
‘Yes, you do,’ I confirm. He makes me very uncomfortable, and on so many levels, which begs the question why I’m here.
He walks forward and takes my hand, tugging gently until I allow him to pull me back into the lounge. ‘Sit,’ he orders, pushing me down onto the couch. He takes my bag and phone and places them neatly on the table before squatting in front of me. He has me with those eyes again. ‘I apologise for making you feel uncomfortable.’
‘Okay,’ I whisper, my eyes dropping to his parted lips.
‘I’m going to make you feel less uncomfortable.’
I nod because I’m too rapt by the slow motions of his lips as he speaks, but my vision is broken when he rises and puts his glass on the table, tweaking it slightly before collecting his jacket and leaving the room. I follow his back, frowning, and hear a door open and close. What’s he doing? My puzzled face flicks around the room, admiring the art briefly and thinking his apartment is too neat and perfect to actually live in, before I’m back to wondering again. Then I hear the door open and close, and I nearly choke on my own tongue when he strolls back into the room, wearing a pair of black, loose sports shorts – nothing else, just some shorts. Yes, his suit-adorned perfection is a little intimidating, but bloody hell, this won’t help. Now I just feel even more inadequate and even more lustful, my hands mentally exploring the sharpness of his chest and stomach, my lips meeting the tanned smoothness of his defined shoulders, and my arms snaking around his tight waist.
He’s back in front of me, lowering himself to the table and picking up his drink. ‘Better?’ he asks.
I’m sure if I could manage to rip my enthralled eyes off his torso I would find a look of superiority, but I can’t knock him for it. He is by far superior. ‘No.’ I drag my eyes up his body until I see him tipping his drink to those lips. Slowly. ‘How would this make me feel comfortable?’ I ask.
‘Because I’m casual.’
‘No, you’re half naked.’ I take another glimpse, my eyes greedy for him.
‘I’m still making you feel uncomfortable?’
‘Yes.’
He sighs and gets up, striding from the room again, but he doesn’t head towards his bedroom. He goes in the direction of the kitchen. I hear doors opening and closing for a few moments before he’s back with me, sitting on the table in front of me with a tray in his hand. He places it down next to him, and I note that it’s full of rocks and ice.
‘What are they?’ I ask, leaning forward to watch him. He swivels the tray, selects a rock and repositions his body forward, holding it out to me.
‘Let’s see if we can loosen you up, Livy.’
‘How? What are they?’ I nod to the rock in his hand, now noticing that it’s concave on one side and has some sort of jelly shimmering in the pearlescent shell.