‘And I beg you.’ A delicious swivelling of his h*ps begins, reminding me of my previous explosive state. He pecks my lips and finds his rhythm again, plunging deep and retreating slowly, crippling me with his expert worshipping. ‘I beg you to love me for ever.’
My face falls into his neck and nuzzles. ‘You don’t need to beg me,’ I murmur. ‘There’s nothing more natural to me than loving you, Miller Hart.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Can you stop driving me crazy now?’ My cl**ax is still being held in limbo. It’s screaming for release.
‘God, yes.’ He drives into me firmly and holds himself deep, grinding his hips. I rocket on a cry and the built-up pressure gushes from my being, sending me dizzy and useless in his arms. ‘Fuck, f**k, f**k!’
‘Don’t drop me!’ My body is quivering, my head shaking from side to side.
‘Never.’
‘Oh . . .’ I breathe, the twinges showing no sign of receding as I relax into him. My world is a haze of distorted sounds and blurred images as I fight my way through the intensity of my orgasm. I can’t feel my limbs, only Miller biting lightly on my cheek and his erection pulsing within me. Vivid images are flashing through my mind, each one of Miller and me, some past, some very much present, and some of our future together. I’ve found my someone – a damaged someone, a someone who displays his emotions in the most unusual fashion and conducts himself in a way to mostly repel affection. But he’s my damaged someone. I understand him. I know how to ease him, handle him, and most importantly, I know how to love him. Despite his lifelong mission to reject the potential of feeling and caring, he’s let me fight my way past his harsh, cold exterior – helped me do it, to a certain extent – and I’ve allowed him to have the same effect on me. How I’m feeling right now, safe, cherished, loved, was worth every modicum of heartache we’ve both endured to this point. He accepts me and my history. We’re worlds apart but utterly perfect for each other. He’s beautiful from afar, and he’s equally beautiful up close. And beneath that external beauty, he’s even more beautiful. It goes deep, and the deeper I look, that beauty only strengthens. I’m the only person who sees it, and that’s because I’m the only person who Miller has allowed to see it. Just me. He’s mine. All of him. Every beautiful piece.
Miller’s teeth sinking into my shoulder and his pulsing length still buried within me brings me back down to earth, where I’m staring at the ceiling and my fingers are numb and set in place from my fierce grip of the wall’s gripper things. I’m exhausted but energised, weak at the knees but strong within. ‘I watched you once,’ I whisper. I’m not sure why I’m compelled to tell him this.
He sucks my flesh into his mouth and pecks his bite mark lightly before sweeping my hair into his fist and turning my face into him. ‘I know you did.’
He doesn’t ask what I mean or where I watched him. He knows. ‘How?’
‘My skin tingled.’
My smile is one of confusion as I search his eyes, looking for anything more than those three confounding words. I see sincerity, total belief in his statement. ‘Your skin tingled?’
‘Yes, like subtle fireworks exploding under my skin.’ His face remains straight.
‘Fireworks?’
His lips meet my forehead and his h*ps retreat, his semi-arousal slipping free. My knickers and shorts also slip back into place, leaving me resentful and bitter for my loss. I’m gently turned in his arms, my hair arranged neatly down one side and my arms draped over his na**d shoulders. He’s damp and warm, and his skin is glistening under the harsh artificial light of the studio. My affronted body and lack of Miller inside me is forgotten when my eyes and mind are met by the hard planes of his torso – tight ni**les, smooth skin and chiselled muscles. It’s truly a sight to behold.
I watch him scan the wall behind me before edging me a fraction to the left, and then that masterpiece of a physique moves in and barricades me against the coolness behind me, every inch of his semi-nakedness coating my gym-clad body. His forefinger rests under my chin and directs my face up to his. ‘Up here.’ He smiles and kisses my cheek tenderly. ‘Share with me your tell.’
‘My tell?’ The confusion in my voice isn’t concealable. I have no idea what he’s talking about. ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’
He gives me a dimple smile, cute and almost shy. ‘When you’re near, even out of touching distance, my skin lights up. Like fireworks. Every inch of my flesh tingles deliciously. That’s my tell.’ His palm cups my cheek, his thumb ghosting over the surface of my lips. ‘That’s how I know you’re close by. I don’t need to be able to see you. I feel you, and when we physically touch’ – he blinks lazily and pulls a long, steadying breath – ‘those fireworks explode. They make me dizzy. They’re beautiful, bright, and consuming.’ Leaning in, he kisses the tip of my nose. ‘They represent you.’
My lips part, my hold moving to the back of his head. I spend a few silent moments absorbing his gaze and his body pressed hard to mine. I also absorb his words. There’s nothing confounding about that statement. I know just what he’s talking about now, except my tell is a little different.
‘I have fireworks, too.’ I kiss the pad of his finger, and his side-to-side drag across my bottom lip stops as he regards me quietly. ‘Except mine implode.’