I can’t speak. I can only just swallow, sending more wine down my throat fast.
‘Carl,’ Miller utters quietly, instantly reminding me of his name. Carl Keating. One of the scariest men I’ve ever met. He’s not changed one bit – not aged . . . not lost his frightening aura.
‘We weren’t expecting you,’ Carl says, taking the empty tumbler from the barman and flicking his head in command, sending him away without the need to verbalise his order.
‘Surprise visit.’ Miller’s retort is full of arrogance.
Carl places the glass on the marble counter of the bar before he turns and takes down a black bottle from the shelf that’s embellished with an intricate gold plate. ‘The good stuff.’ He raises his black eyebrows as he holds the bottle up and pulls the gold stopper from the top. I shift uncomfortably on my stool and risk a peek over my shoulder to Miller, dreading what I’ll find. His stoic expression and heated blue eyes, boring right into Carl, do nothing to lessen my unease.
‘Only the best,’ Miller speaks clearly, never letting his focus waiver.
I blink slowly on a quiet hitch of breath, my shaky hands taking my glass back to my lips. I’ve been in some painful situations of late, and this is right up there with the best of them.
‘Nothing but the best for the Special One, yes?’ Carl smiles cunningly to himself as he pours a few fingers.
I cough over my wine, slamming the glass down before I drop it. He’s playing a dangerous game and he knows it. Miller’s chest heaving, buzzing, burning against my back tells me he could explode at any moment.
Carl passes the glass over and holds it in mid-air, rather than placing it on the bar for Miller to take, then wiggles it slightly . . . teasingly. I wince on a little jump when Miller’s hand flies out and viciously swipes it from his clasp, making the mean beast grin evilly. He’s getting a sick thrill from poking Miller and it’s beginning to get under my skin. Miller drains the alcohol in one smooth gulp before he smashes the glass down and licks his lips slowly, a slight curl developing at the side of his mouth. His eyes remain locked on Carl the whole time. The animosity batting between these two men is making me dizzy.
‘Mr Anderson wants you in his office. He’ll join you shortly.’
My neck is taken before Carl’s words fully sink in, and I’m on my feet and being led away from the bar before I can finish the rest of my much-needed wine. The anger pouring from Miller is potent. I’m nervous enough just from being here. All these bad feelings aren’t assisting. The pounding of Miller’s expensive shoes on the polished floor is ricocheting around my head, the walls closing in around me as the corridor swallows us up.
And then I see the door – the one I staggered towards the last time I saw it. The intricate door handle seems to swell before my eyes, enticing me in, showing me the way, and the wall lights seem to dull the farther we progress. The light buzzing of the posh club is fading into a muffled fuzz of quiet sound behind me, my poor mind being hijacked by relentless, painful memories.
My eyes are set on the handle, and I see Miller’s hand extend in slow motion and take hold, pushing it down and opening the door. He shoves me through quite firmly. I never thought I’d see this room again, but before I have time to absorb it, I hear the sound of the door close and I’m being whirled around and taken with conviction. I gasp, caught off guard, and stagger back in shock. Miller’s kiss is hungry and urgent, but I accept it, grateful for being spared the chance to take in my surroundings.
Our mouths are clashing repeatedly as we consume each other. Then he’s at my neck, my cheek, my shoulder, and returning to my mouth. ‘I want you here,’ he growls, beginning to step forward, encouraging me to move back until I feel hard wood at the back of my legs. ‘I want to fuck you right here, make you scream in ecstasy and come all over my aching cock.’ He lifts me and places me on the desk behind us, my dress pushed to my waist as he continues to attack my mouth. I know what he’s doing. And I couldn’t care less. This is the refuelling of strength I need.
‘Do it,’ I gasp, reaching up and pulling at his hair. Miller growls into my mouth as he unbuckles his belt and rips his trousers open before returning his hands to me and yanking my knickers aside. Our kiss is broken and my eyes drop to his groin. His cock is twitching eagerly, begging for me to come to it.
‘Move forward,’ he instructs hoarsely, sliding his spare hand to my bum and tugging impatiently as he stares down at himself slowly stroking his arousal. ‘Come to me, sweet girl.’
I shift a little, placing my palms flat on the desk behind me, being sure to never let my eyes stray from his perfect face – being sure not to allow myself a reminder of where we are. The moist head of his cock skims my centre, making me hiss and tense. The strength required to keep my eyes open nearly finishes me. He’s rolling the tip of his erection in painful circles, around and around on my flesh, still using those familiar teasing tactics, despite his earlier urgency.
‘Miller!’ My hands ball behind me, my teeth gritting.
‘Do you want me inside you, Olivia?’ He flicks his eyes from his groin to my flushed face, teasing my opening. ‘Do you?’
‘Yes.’ I circle my legs around his waist and use them as leverage, yanking him towards me. ‘Yes!’ I choke, the instant, deep penetration robbing me of breath.
‘Oh fuck! Livy!’ He withdraws slowly, watching himself emerge from my passage, his jaw pulsing. Then he looks up at me as he holds still and his blue eyes visibly darken, his grip on my thighs flexing . . . preparing. I wait for it, holding his purposeful gaze as it comes closer to me until his suit-covered torso is leaning over me and our noses are nearly touching. Yet he remains poised at my entrance, only the very tip of him submerged. I don’t move. I remain still and patient under his close studying of me, panting in his face, so desperate for movement, but just as desperate to let Miller lead the way, knowing it’s exactly what he needs.