My eyes close when I feel hot breath at my ear. ‘Sweet girl, you’ve floored me.’
Chapter 17
I’m very suddenly aware of internal sparks firing off wildly. I gasp, my eyes flying open, and I try to turn, getting absolutely nowhere. His groin pushes into my lower back, his grip of my waist firming up, as is what’s beneath his trousers. I’ve been thrown into panic, all the feelings that he provokes attacking me relentlessly.
‘Don’t try to escape me,’ he whispers. ‘I won’t let it happen this time.’
‘Miller, let me go.’
‘Over my dead body.’ He sweeps my hair to one side and wastes no time getting his lips on my neck, injecting fire through my flesh, straight into my bloodstream. ‘Your dress is very short.’
‘And?’ I breathe, digging my fingernails into his arm.
‘And I like it.’ His hand slides over my hip, onto my bum and down to the hem of my dress. ‘Because it means I can do this.’ He kisses my neck, skating his hand under my dress and pushing his finger past the seam of my knickers. My bottom flies back on a small cry, colliding with his groin. He bites my neck. ‘You’re drenched.’
‘Stop it,’ I beg, feeling all rationality running away from me under his touch.
‘No.’
‘Please, stop it, stop it, stop, it.’
‘No . . . he breathes. ‘No . . . He circles his groin confidently. ‘No, Livy.’
His finger enters me and my face distorts with a mixture of pleasure and desperation, my internal muscles grabbing onto him. My head is drifting to one side, letting him at me, and the fingers of my hand resting over his are squeezing hard, prompting his palm to shift and his fingers to lace through mine, constricting firmly. I know I’m falling, and through my desperate desire I look for Gregory for help. But he’s gone.
And so is Ben.
Fury flames, Gregory’s promise to not let anything happen only stoking it further. He’s let something happen, and he’s let it happen with the worst man. I struggle in Miller’s hold until he’s left little option but to release me or manhandle me to the floor, and I swing around, my hair whipping my face. I glare at him, ignoring his impossible beauty. He’s in his usual finery, minus the jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up in the most casual, unlike-Miller fashion. His waistcoat is still buttoned, though, and his hair is a stunning mop of waves. His piercing blue eyes are stabbing at my flesh accusingly.
‘I said no,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Not now, not for four hours, not ever.’
‘We’ll see,’ he retorts confidently, stepping forward. ‘You might be repeatedly saying the word no, Olivia Taylor. But this . . .’ he runs his fingertip over my breast and onto my stomach, forcing me to gulp down air to control my shakes, ‘this is always telling me yes.’
My legs are in motion before my brain sends any instruction, which quickly makes me conclude that this is natural instinct. Escape. Get away before I lose my mind and my integrity and let him cast me aside again. I find myself at the bar before I’ve even registered what direction I’m headed in. I order a drink, quickly taking it from the barman’s hand and turning as I take a swig.
Miller is standing right in front of me. His jaw is tense as he nods over my shoulder to the barman. Then, as if by magic, a tumbler is passed over my shoulder into Miller’s waiting hand. My gaze falls to his lips as he takes a slow sip while he watches me, as if he knows what that mouth does to me. I’m mesmerised by it. Totally rapt. Then he licks his lips and not knowing what else to do, but knowing that I’m likely to kiss him if I remain here, I run again, this time up the stairs and around the galleried walkway, looking through the glass for any sign of Gregory. I need to find him, the stupid pain in the arse that he is.
I’m so busy looking for my friend in the space below I don’t notice where I’m going and walk straight into a body. The sharp angles of the chest under the shirt and waistcoat are too familiar. ‘Livy, what are you doing?’ he asks, almost tiredly, like I’m fighting a losing battle. I fear I might be.
‘Trying to get away from you,’ I say calmly, making his jaw tense in annoyance. ‘Please move.’
‘No, Livy.’ He mouths the words extra slowly, making it impossible to rip my eyes away from his lips. ‘How much have you had to drink?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘It’s my business when you’re drinking in my club.’
My mouth falls open, but he maintains his straight, unhappy expression. ‘This is your bar?’