Unveiled(24)

He lifts me briefly to pull back the covers, then settles me neatly on the mattress. “Arms in the air.” He gives me a hint of that cheeky smile before his face disappears, being replaced with the material of my top. My arms only rise because of him lifting my T-shirt and forcing them up, and as soon as I’m free from my bra and knickers, I fall to my back on a sigh and roll onto my front, snuggling down. The heat of his mouth presses into my shoulder for the longest time. “Take me into your perfect dreams, Olivia Taylor.”

I can’t show my agreement, can’t even voice my assurance that I will. Sleep claims me, and the last thing I hear is the familiar sound of Miller humming.


* * *


My dreams were sweet, and Miller was there in all of his perfect, relaxed glory. I blink my eyes open, immediately confused by the darkness. I feel as though I’ve been asleep for years. I feel re-energized and ready to take the day on… if it were morning. The mattress dips behind me, and I feel Miller closing in on me. I want to say good morning, but I think I’m a bit premature. So I shuffle over instead to stick my front to Miller’s and push my face into the coarse hair at his throat. Then I inhale and wedge my knee between his thighs.

He accommodates my demand for intimacy, letting me shift and fidget all over him until I’m settled and breathing easy into him. It’s comfortably silent, until Miller starts humming “The Power of Love,” making me smile. “You hummed this to me one of the first times we were together.” I press my lips to the hollow void below his Adam’s apple and suck briefly before trailing my tongue up to his chin.

“Indeed I did,” he agrees, letting me nibble at his bottom lip. “You threw my perfect world into total chaos.”

I’m prevented from giving my thoughts on that statement when he moves away and places me on my side before mirroring my new position. It’s dark, but I can see his face now that my eyes have adjusted.

And I don’t like what I see.

Pensiveness.

Concern.

“What is it?” I back up, my pulse beginning to quicken.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What?” I blurt out. I spin over and find the switch for the bedside lamp, and the room floods with a hazy light. I blink back the sudden attack on my eyes, then turn to seek Miller out again. I find him sitting up, his features fretful. “Tell me,” I push.

“Promise me you’ll hear me out.” He takes my hands in his and squeezes. “Promise me you’ll let me finish before you fly into—”

“Miller! Just tell me!” The coldness settling over me accelerates my panic and fear.

His face seems to distort with pain. “It’s your grandmother.”

I lose my breath. “Oh my God. What’s happened? Is she okay?” I try to shake Miller off and go in search of my phone, but I’m held in place by a firm grip.

“You promised to hear me out.”

“That was before I knew it was about Nan!” I shout, feeling my sanity run away with me. I thought I was going to be hit with another obstacle, a piece of Miller’s history or… I’m not sure what, anything other than this. “Tell me what’s happened!”

“She had a heart attack.”

My world explodes into a million shards of devastation. “No! When? Where? How do—”

“Olivia, damn it, let me speak!” He’s short but gentle, his eyebrows arching to back up his calm warning.

How can I be calm? He’s drip-feeding me information. I open my mouth to fire some choice words at him as my impatience and worry grows, but his hand comes up and silences me, and I finally accept that I’ll learn more information if I shut the hell up and listen.

“She’s okay,” he begins, rubbing circles into the tops of my hands, but nothing will lessen my apprehension. She’s ill, and I’m not there to take care of her. I’ve always been there for her. My eyes start to burn with the threat of guilty tears. “She’s in the hospital being cared for.”

“When did it happen?” I choke my question through a sob.

“Yesterday morning.”

“Yesterday?” I shout, shocked.

“George found her. He didn’t want to call you and worry you, and he didn’t have my contact details. He waited for William to stop by the house. Anderson said he’d let me know.”

I sag with sympathy for old George. I bet he felt lost and helpless. “When did he call?”

“Late last night. You were in bed.”

“You didn’t wake me?” I shake his hands off and shove myself back, away from Miller and his reach.

“You needed to sleep, Olivia.” He makes a play for my hands, but I doggedly knock him away and get off the bed.