‘Please, Livy. Let me see you.’ He delivers the words on a lazy grind. ‘Please.’
I force myself to fulfil his plea, using what energy I have to pull against his neck to help me. I cry out.
‘Lie back.’
‘What?’ I yell, closing my eyes, feeling my muscles contracting persistently. I can’t control it any more.
‘Lie back.’ His palm rests at the base of my spine, letting me lean against it, and he eases me down until my upper back is on the mattress and my lower body is held against his kneeling frame. ‘Comfortable?’
‘Yes,’ I gasp, bowing my back and plunging my fingers into my blond, knotted waves.
‘Good,’ he rumbles.
The strain in his face tells me he’s close, too, the rippling of his stomach an indication of the tension building. ‘Are you ready, Livy?’
‘Yes!’
‘Oh Jesus, I’m so ready.’ His h*ps seem to take on a mind of their own as he shudders into me, the smooth fluidness long gone. He’s shaking, clearly trying to hold his restraint, and I wonder again if it’s a continual battle for him to prevent the hard fierceness that I bore witness to in the hotel.
That line of thought requires a clear mind, which I don’t have right now. I’m coming.
‘Miller!’
He pulls his h*ps away and delivers a thrust that sends us both over the edge, Miller on a tight bark, me on a suppressed scream. His fingers are digging into my flesh as he pushes that little bit further into me, twitching, jerking and groaning.
I’m wiped out, completely useless, struggling to even keep my eyes on Miller’s post-climax, sweaty face. I welcome his weight when he drops onto me, keeping my eyes closed but making up for my loss of seeing him by feeling him everywhere. He’s soaking wet and panting in my hair, and it’s the most amazing feeling and sound ever.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers out of the blue, and I frown through my exhaustion.
‘For what?’
‘Tell me what I’m going to do without you.’ He squeezes me ridiculously hard, putting a strain on my ribs. ‘Tell me how I’m going to survive.’
‘Miller, you’re squashing me.’ I practically gasp the words, but he only squeezes harder. ‘Miller, ease up.’ I feel his head shake in my neck. ‘Miller, please!’
He pushes up quickly from my body, dropping his head and eyes, leaving me gasping and heaving on the bed. He won’t look at me. I rub some life back into my arms, my legs, everywhere, but he refuses to acknowledge the discomfort he’s caused me. He looks worryingly beaten. Where’s this come from?
I scramble to my knees to mirror him and take his hands in mine. ‘You don’t need to be concerned by that because I’ve told you how it is for me,’ I say calmly, reassuringly, quietly relieved that he appears to be as concerned by the potential of separation as I am.
‘Our feelings are irrelevant,’ he says factually. His declaration makes me back up slightly.
‘Of course they’re relevant,’ I argue, a coldness I don’t like settling over me.
‘No.’ He shakes his head and pulls his hands from my grip, leaving mine to fall lifelessly to my thighs. ‘You’re right. I should have let you walk away from me.’
‘Miller?’ I can feel the panic begin to set in.
‘I can’t drag you into my darkness, Olivia. This has to end now.’
My chest is beginning to crack open slowly. I’m making his world light. What’s the matter with him? ‘You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m helping you.’ I try to take his hands again, but he pulls them out of my reach and gets up from the bed.
‘I’ll take you home.’
‘No,’ I whisper, watching as his back disappears into the bathroom. ‘No!’ Jumping up from the bed, I run after him, grabbing his arm and yanking him around to face me. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m doing what’s right.’ There’s no feeling, no remorse or sorrow. He’s shut down on me, worse than ever before, the mask fixed firmly in place – no suit required. ‘I should never have let it go this far. I shouldn’t have come back for you.’
‘It?’ I yell. ‘You mean us! There is no it, or you, or I now. It’s us!’ I’m falling apart on him, my shaking body refusing to calm – not until he holds me and tells me I’m hearing things.
‘There’s you, and there is me.’ He looks slowly up at me. His blue eyes are empty. ‘There can never be an us.’
His cold words stab at my splitting heart. ‘No.’ I refuse to accept this. ‘No!’ I shake him by the arms, but he remains impassive and detached. ‘I’m your habit.’ I start to sob, the tears bursting from my eyes uncontrollably. ‘I’m your habit!’
He pulls his arms away and steps back. ‘Habits are bad for you.’
My chest explodes open, exposing my shattered heart. ‘You’re talking rubbish.’
‘No, I’m talking complete sense, Livy.’ He walks away and steps in the shower, not even flinching as the unheated water pours all over him.
I’m not giving up. There must be something wrong with him. My panic fuels my doggedness and I’m in the shower, pushing at his body as he attempts to shampoo his hair.
‘You don’t get to do this to me again, not now! Not after everything!’
He ignores me and rinses his hair before he’s even really washed it. Then he hastily escapes me, exiting the other side of the shower, but I’m relentless, shouting as I go after him. I’m grabbing at his wet back, trying to stop him, but he shrugs me off, trying to dry himself and fight his way from the bathroom.