Unveiled(80)
I’m quickly on my guard. “Not now,” I hiss, knowing that I probably mean never. “Right now I have one priority.”
“I concur,” Miller agrees without delay, surprising me. He moves in and dips to get our faces level. Reassuring blue eyes haul me into their safety and comfort, make my arms twitch at my sides. “Which is why I told him you’re not ready.”
I give up fighting to keep them by my sides and throw them over his shoulders in gratitude. “I love you.”
“We established that long ago, sweet girl,” he whispers, pulling back to get my face in view. “Let me taste you.”
Our mouths meet, and my feet leave the ground, our tongues falling into a beautifully delicate pace of swirling, each of us nipping at each other’s lips when we pull back, time and time again. I’m lost, consumed, oblivious to our very public surroundings… until a sharp rapping jolts me back to the here and now and we both pull apart. Miller huffs a quiet, disbelieving shot of laughter as we turn toward the window of his car. I can’t see Nan’s face—the blacked-out windows are preventing it, but if I could, I know she’d be pushed up against the glass, grinning.
“A treasure,” Miller mutters, releasing me and straightening me out before beginning on himself. It’s been some time since he’s fixed his suit, but he’s making up for it now, taking a good minute to pull and smooth every part of him into place while I watch with a smile, comforted by one of his finicky ways, even reaching up and dusting off a piece of lint that he’s missed. He smiles in response, reaches for my nape, and pulls me forward, planting a kiss on my forehead.
Rap rap rap!
“Give me strength,” he mumbles against my skin, then releases me and turns a scowl onto the window of his car. “Beautiful things should be savored, Mrs. Taylor.”
Nan’s answer to that is another round of taps on the window, prompting Miller to bend and get up close to the window, his scowl still firmly in place. My amusement increases when he raps right back. I hear Nan’s gasp of shock, even through the closed door, not that it has any effect on my part-time gentleman. He raps again.
“Miller, behave.” I laugh, loving the irritation flaming in him under my grandmother’s pesky behavior.
“She really is royal.” He straightens and slips his hands into his pockets. “A royal…”
“Pain in the arse?” I finish for him when he pulls up, guilt jumping onto his face.
“Sometimes,” he agrees, making me laugh. “Let’s get her ladyship home, shall we?” He nods toward the other side of the car, and I follow his instruction, taking myself to the passenger side and jumping in the back with Nan.
When I’ve got my seat belt on, I look across and find her fiddling with hers, so I lend a hand and secure it for her. “There,” I say, resting back in my seat and watching as she takes in the sumptuous interior of Miller’s posh car. She reaches up and presses a button that puts a light on, then turns it off again. She fiddles with the air-conditioning buttons between the footwells, humming her approval. She pushes a button that sends her window down, then pushes it again to close it back up. Then she finds an armrest between us and pulls it down, sliding the runner back to reveal cup holders. Old, amazed navy eyes fly up to mine, and she forms an O with her marshmallow lips. “I bet the queen’s car isn’t as posh as this.” Her comment should make me laugh, but I’m too busy flicking nervous eyes to Miller in the rearview mirror, trying to gauge his reaction to all this messing of his perfect world.
He’s staring at me, his jaw tight, and I return that smile awkwardly, mouthing “sorry” on a bunched-up face. His lovely head shakes from side to side, tousling up his waves as he virtually screeches out of the parking space. I conclude very quickly that he wants to get this journey over with as soon as possible and limit the time my dear grandmother has to screw around with his perfect world. God forbid if she could reach the temperature controls up front. I inwardly laugh. And he wanted to move her into his apartment? Holy shit, he’d have a seizure every five minutes!
There are continuous hoots of glee coming from Nan as Miller zips and weaves through the London traffic, but her excitement dulls to nothing as she catches sight of my left hand when it reaches up to rest on the seat in front of me. I realize what’s holding her attention straightaway. She reaches across the car and takes my hand, pulling it toward her and studying it quietly. I can do nothing more than let her, bracing myself for her reaction. I turn pleading eyes up to the rearview mirror and find Miller watching intermittently between keeping an eye on the road.