‘By doing that, I’ll be something I swore I’d never be.’
‘What’s that?’ He spreads delicate kisses across my neck, and he’s doing it because he knows I’m torn. He’s a smart man. He’s scrambling my senses, but worst of all, my mind.
‘At a man’s mercy.’
There’s definitely a slight falter in the trailing of his lips. I’m not imagining it. He removes himself from the sanctuary of my neck and studies me thoughtfully. So much time passes – enough for my mind to linger on many of the touches he’s blessed me with, the kisses we’ve shared and the passion we’ve created together. It’s like I’m watching it all in his eyes, making me wonder if he’s reliving those moments, too. He eventually reaches up and runs his knuckles softly down my cheek. ‘If there is anyone at the mercy of someone here, Livy, then it is me at yours.’ His eyes divert to my lips and lazily start moving in. And I do nothing to stop him.
I don’t see a man at my mercy. I see a man who wants something and seems prepared to do anything to get it.
‘We should get back to the table.’ I try to break away from him, turning my face away from his.
‘Not until you say you’re leaving with me.’ He surprises me by lifting me from my feet and sitting me on the counter. Laying his hands on the tops of my thighs, he leans in and looks at me, waiting for my agreement. ‘Say it.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘Yes you do.’ He gets nose to nose with me. ‘You’ve never wanted anything so much in your life.’
He’s right, but that doesn’t make it wise. ‘You’re very confident.’
He shakes his head on a mild curve of his mouth and reaches up to drag his thumb across my bottom lip. ‘You may be trying to convince both of us with words, but everything else is telling me different.’ He slips his finger into his mouth and sucks it, then runs a moist trail down my throat, over my breast and onto my stomach before his hand disappears up my dress and between my legs. My jaw tightens, my back straightens and my core starts pulsing, willing him to touch me there. My body is betraying me on every level, and he knows it. ‘I think I’ll find warmth.’ He inches closer to the apex of my thighs, and my head falls forward, meeting his forehead. ‘I think I’ll find wetness,’ he whispers, his finger slipping into the side of my knickers and spreading that wetness around. ‘I think if I enter you now, your greedy muscles will grab on and never let go.’
‘Do it.’ The words leave my mouth without thought, my hands lifting and grabbing the tops of his arms. ‘Please do it.’
‘I’ll do anything you want me to, but I’ll be doing it in my bed.’ He kisses me hard on the lips and removes his hand, pulling the hem of my dress down. ‘I have manners. I’m not about to disrespect your grandmother by taking you here. Can you control yourself while we eat pineapple cake?’
‘Can I control myself?’ I ask on a breathy whisper, looking down to his groin. I don’t need to see it to know it’s there. He’s solid and rubbing against my leg.
‘I’m struggling, believe me.’ He readjusts himself and lifts me down from the counter, then sets about arranging my hair neatly over my shoulders. ‘Let’s see how fast I can eat pineapple cake. Do you want to get an overnight bag?’
No, actually, I don’t. I want him to lose his manners. I attempt in vain to compose my pent-up state, but all of the heat from down below is rising to my face at the thought of facing Nan and George. ‘I’ll grab some things after dessert.’
‘As you wish.’ He takes my nape and directs me from the kitchen, the warmth of his hold intensifying my want. I want him so badly. I want this enigmatic man, who conducts himself so well but contradicts every gentlemanly act in the next breath. He’s a fraud, that’s what he is.
An actor.
A conceited man, cleverly disguised as a gentleman.
Which makes him the worst kind of enemy that my heart could find.
‘Here they are!’ Nan claps, jumping up. ‘Where’s the pineapple upside-down cake?’
‘Oh!’ I go to turn but quickly realise that with Miller still holding my neck firmly in his grasp, I’m going nowhere.
‘No matter.’ Nan waves her hand at my empty chair. ‘Sit down, I’ll get it.’
Miller practically places me on the chair before tucking me in, almost like he has a compulsion to have me just so, as well as everything else that he touches. ‘Comfortable?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ He takes his seat beside me and rearranges everything at his place setting before taking his recently shifted glass of wine and taking a slow sip.