“I’ve already forgiven you.”
I let the few building tears trickle silently from my eyes and soak into his neck, remorse crippling me. He’s been nothing but loving, protective, and supportive, to both me and Nan. I’m inexcusable. “I love you.”
He pulls me from his chest and takes his time wiping under my eyes. “And I love you.” There’s no code or alternative words or actions. It’s delivered simply. “I can’t see you sad, Olivia. Where’s the sass I love so much?”
I smile, thinking he really probably doesn’t mean that. “I’ve run out,” I admit. Too much energy is required to be sassy or spunky or whatever he wants to call it. I feel zapped of life, the only scraps of it I have left reserved to care for Nan and ensure Miller knows how much I love him. Everyone else can go to hell.
“No, you haven’t. You’ve temporarily lost it, that’s all. We need to relocate it.” He gives me one of those lovely smiles, lighting my darkness slightly. “I need you strong by my side, Olivia.”
My sorrow-soaked mind gives way to guilt. He’s being strong for me. He’s by my side through my own traumatic issues. I need to do the same for him. We’ve still yet to deal with Miller’s problems—my problem, too, because there is only us. But Gracie Taylor has added a whole new dimension to our screwed-up world. And now my late period.
“I’m here for you,” I affirm. “Always.”
“I sometimes wonder.”
My guilt multiplies by a million. Pull it together. That’s what I have to do. These problems aren’t going away, and no amount of ignoring them will make them disappear either. “I’m here.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.”
“I’ll always be grateful for you, Olivia Taylor. Eternally. You know that.” He takes my hand and kisses my diamond.
“I know.”
“Jolly good.” I’m kissed chastely on my nose, my lips, one cheek, then the other, before he’s pecking his way down my neck. “Time for a shower.”
“Would you do me the honor of joining me?” I grip his hair in my hands, smiling when he pauses and slowly pulls from my throat.
“Worship you in that tiny shower?”
I nod, delighted at the playful twinkle springing into his sharp blue eyes.
His lips pout. It’s the most beautiful sight. “How long would it take your grandmother to get from the lounge to the kitchen, find her most lethal carving knife, and make it upstairs?”
I grin. “Under normal circumstances, a minute flat. Now, I guess a good ten minutes, if at all.”
“Then we’re good to go.”
I laugh as he scoops me into his arms and starts striding quickly for the door. I so need this. “You don’t want to disrespect Nan,” I remind him.
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
I smile, delighted. “We have to be quiet.”
“Noted.”
“You can’t make me scream your name.”
“Noted.”
“We have to listen for Nan.”
“Noted.” He virtually breaks down the bathroom door and kicks it closed behind him, defying every noted he’s just noted. I’m placed on my feet, the shower is flipped on, and with a lack of clothes on me and Miller’s yummy tight hips graced only in his yummy tight boxers, it’s a mere second before both of us are naked. “In.” He cocks his head in signal, an element of urgency to his approach. I’m not in the least bit bothered. My desperation is growing with each painful second that he refrains from touching me. I step into the bath, under the hot spray, and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
He’s just staring at me, his eyes journeying slowly up and down my dripping nakedness. But I don’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, I use the time to drink in every perfect piece of him, musing silently, thinking that perhaps he becomes more perfect with each day that passes. His obsessive habits are showing signs of abating, albeit sporadically, or maybe I’ve just become accustomed to things that were so glaringly obvious before. Or maybe we’re meeting somewhere in the middle and neither of us is noticing. Probably because we are so consumed in each other, and when we’re not, we’re tackling obstacles. But I do know one thing for sure. The only thing that’s indisputable.
I’m crazy in love with Miller Hart.
My eyes work their way from his perfect toes, up his perfectly shaped legs, until I’m locked on his perfectly hard cock. I could go farther, lose myself in the rest of him—his sharp abs, his firm pecs, those strong shoulders… his flawless face, lips, eyes, and finally the perfect waves of his perfect hair. I could. But I don’t. I’m too riveted by the center of his perfection.