Denied

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  my suddenly pumping heart. ‘Jesus!’ I blurt, following the sound until I’m rummaging through my bag for my new phone. A glance at the screen tells me it’s five-fifteen and Nan’s calling. ‘Oh shit!’ I answer immediately. ‘Nan!’

  ‘Olivia! Oh my goodness, where are you?’ She sounds beside herself, and my face screws up guiltily, mixed with a little dread. ‘I woke to use the toilet and checked your room. You’re not in bed!’

  ‘Well obviously.’ I wince and drop my bare bum to a chair, hiding from no one by burying my face in my spare palm. I hear a little gasp through the phone. It’s a gasp of realisation. It’s a happy gasp.

  ‘Olivia, sweetheart, are you with Miller?’ She’s silently begging the answer is yes, I know she is.

  My naked shoulders rise and brush my earlobes. ‘Yes,’ I squeak, my face screwing up further. I should be apologising for causing her such worry, but I’m too busy clamping down on my bottom lip in anticipation of her reaction to this news.

  Nan coughs, clearly trying to restrain her squeal of delight. ‘I see.’ She’s failing terribly to sound nonchalant. ‘Well, um, in that case, uh, I’m sorry for disturbing you.’ She coughs again. ‘Yes, I’ll be going, then.’

  ‘Nan.’ I roll my eyes, my face heating with embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry, I should have called you to—’

  ‘On no!’ she screeches, piercing my eardrum. ‘It’s fine! So, so fine!’

  I knew it would be. ‘I’ll be home to get ready for work.’

  ‘Okay!’ She must be waking the whole street. ‘George is taking me shopping early. I might not be here.’

  ‘I’ll see you after work, then.’

  ‘Ooooh, with Miller? I’ll do dinner! Beef Wellington! He said it was the best he’d tasted!’

  I rub my forehead and flop back in the chair. I should have expected this. ‘Maybe another time.’

  ‘Oh, well, I can’t organise my life around you two.’ She can and she would. ‘Enquire as to what day would suit him.’

  ‘I will. See you later.’

  ‘Yes, you will.’ She sounds slighted, and her tone is threatening. I’m going to be grilled later.

  ‘Bye.’ I go to disconnect the call.

  ‘Oh, Livy?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Give his buns a little squeeze from me.’

  ‘Nan!’ I gasp, hearing her giggling as she hangs up on me, leaving me gaping at her crude comment. The filthy minx! I’m about to throw my phone down on the table in disgust, but the text icon catches my eye, telling me I have a message. And I know who it’s from. I open it, despite wanting to throw this phone at the wall, too.

  I would appreciate being enlightened

  on this evening’s events. William.

  He wants me to check in? I scowl at my phone, then toss it on the table. I’m not telling him anything, no matter how terse the demand. Nor am I going to let him talk me out of this. Or force me out of this. Never. Resolute and confident, I stand, suddenly eager to join Miller back on the sofa. I hurry over to the cupboard, grab a glass, and fill it from the tap, not prepared to delay myself further by fussing with bottled spring water. I glug it all down, place the glass carefully in the dishwasher, and then make my way back towards Miller’s studio, pulling to a sudden halt when I spot my dress strewn across the floor. Or still strewn across the floor. He’s not picked it up, folded it neatly, and placed it deftly in his bottom drawer? I frown at the offending garment, not being able to resist scooping it up and shaking it out before folding it. Then I stand thoughtfully for a few moments and before I know it, I’m in the studio staring at all of his clothes scattered everywhere. I know his painting space is typically a royal mess, but his suit doesn’t belong in here on the floor. It’s all wrong.

  I hurry and gather up his clothes, shoving them under my arm and doing my best to smooth and fold while I take myself to his room. I wander through to his wardrobe, making sure everything is put in its rightful place – his jacket, trousers and waistcoat hung up; his shirt, socks and boxers in the laundry basket; and his tie on his tie rack. Then I make sure my dress and shoes land in the bottom drawer of his dresser in the bedroom. I start to leave and notice the bed is a huge mess, too, so I spend a good ten minutes messing with the sheets, attempting to restore it to its former glory. He’s slept through the night, with no tormenting thoughts or dreams of items in the wrong place. I don’t want him diving up in a panic to fix that. Creeping quietly back to the studio, I slip under the blankets, shift cautiously so I don’t disturb him . . . and squeal when I’m seized by the waist and yanked onto his body. I don’t get a moment to gather myself. I’m hauled up and carried to his bedroom where he throws me on the bed with no consideration that I’ve just perfected it. Or probably not perfected it by Miller’s standards.

  ‘Miller!’ I’m pinned by my wrists beneath him, all disorientated, with his dark locks tickling my nose. ‘What are you doing?’ I’m too stunned by his uncharacteristic act to laugh.

  ‘Hold that thought,’ he mumbles into my neck, nudging my thighs apart so he can make himself comfy. The skin of my neck is suddenly hot and wet, his tongue the source of heat. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’ He bites and licks my throat, sending me rigid, my thighs clamping onto his hips.

  ‘Perfect,’ I reply quietly, because I really am. My arms find their way around his shoulders when he releases me and hold him tightly while he spends an age worshipping my neck. I don’t want to go to work. I want to do what Miller suggested one time and lock the doors, stay here for ever with him. He’s in an exceptionally good mood, no traces of the clipped man in sight. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be and Miller is, too, in body and in mind.

  His face appears close to mine, those eyes sending me deeper into my contented bliss as he studies me for a few moments. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’ He pecks my lips. ‘I’m glad I found you, I’m glad you’re my habit, and I’m glad we’re irrevocably fascinated with each other.’

  ‘Me too,’ I whisper.

  His eyes twinkle, his lips twitch, that lovely dimple showing signs of an appearance. ‘It’s a good job because you really don’t have a choice.’

  ‘I don’t want a choice.’

  ‘Then this is a pointless conversation, wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Yes,’ I answer decisively on a nod, making Miller’s lips twitch more. I want to see that full-blown, beautiful smile and dimple, so I slowly skate my palms down his back, feeling every smooth piece of him while he watches me with interest until I’m at his lovely arse. His eyebrow cocks curiously, and I cock mine right back.

  ‘What are you up to?’ he asks, blatantly restraining his lips from tipping farther.

  I pout a little on a tiny shrug. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I beg to differ.’

  On a little grin, I sink my nails into the solid flesh of his bum. His brow furrows. ‘That’s from Nan.’

  ‘Pardon!’ He coughs, pushing up onto his forearms.

  I’m really grinning now. ‘She said to give your buns a little squeeze.’ My nails dig in again, and Miller chokes on a laugh. A proper laugh. His dimple is deep on his cheek and my smile falls away in an instant as I watch his head drop, his hair flopping forward and his shoulders jumping up. I know I wanted a smile, but I wasn’t prepared for this. I’m not sure how to handle it. He’s in bits, and with a lack of a natural reaction coming to me, I can do nothing more than lie here, trapped beneath his jerking body, and wait for him to pull it together. But he doesn’t look anywhere near to composure. ‘You okay?’ I ask, still stunned, still frowning.

  ‘Olivia Taylor, your grandmother is a treasure,’ he chuckles, pressing his lips hard to mine. ‘An eighteen-carat-gold treasure.’

  ‘She’s a pain in the royal arse, that’s what she is.’

  ‘Don’t speak of a loved one in such a way.’ He pulls back to reveal that familiar straight face, all laughter and happiness gone like it was never there. The sudden change in mood makes me appreciate ho
w insensitive my words were. Miller has no one. Not a soul.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I feel thoughtless and guilty under his accusing gaze. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘She’s special, Olivia.’

  ‘I know she is,’ I retort quietly. I was joking, although I’d do well to remember that Miller Hart isn’t the joking kind. ‘I didn’t mean it.’

  He slips into thought, flicking his blues around my face before settling back on my eyes. His shining orbs soften. ‘I overreacted. I apologise.’

  ‘No, there’s no need.’ I shake my head on a sigh, keeping myself lost in the softness of his puddles of blue. ‘You have a someone, Miller.’

  ‘A someone?’ His beautiful brow furrows.

  ‘Yes,’ I begin enthusiastically. ‘Me.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘I’m your someone. Everyone has a someone, and I’m yours, like you are mine.’

  ‘You’re my someone?’

  ‘Yes.’ I nod sharply, watching as he thinks about my declaration.

  ‘And I’m your someone?’

  ‘Correct.’

  Miller’s head bobs mildly on an agreeable nod. ‘Olivia Taylor is my someone?’

  I shrug. ‘Or habit.’

  His nodding stops in a heartbeat and I watch delightedly as his lips begin to twitch again. ‘Both?’

  ‘Of course,’ I agree. I’ll be whatever he wants me to be.

  ‘You don’t have a choice.’ The twitching transforms into his lovely smile, nearly blinding me.

  ‘I don’t want one.’

  ‘Then this—’

  ‘Is a pointless discussion, yes, I agree.’ I yank him down to my body and secure my legs around his waist, my arms over his shoulders. And then something in this moment makes me say it loud and clear – no code or words with actions. ‘I love your bones, Miller Hart.’

  He pauses with his sucking on my neck and pulls back slowly to gaze down at me. I brace myself, for what I don’t know. He knows how I feel. He thinks for a moment before drawing breath. ‘I’m going to take an educated guess and suggest you mean that you love me deeply.’

  ‘Correct,’ I laugh, pushing into his mouth when his head dips to lock back onto my neck.

  ‘Excellent.’ He kisses me chastely and works his way up my jaw, across my cheek, and onto my lips. ‘I’m deeply fascinated by you, too.’

  I’m reduced to mush beneath him. That’s all I need. That’s his way. That’s Miller Hart, the emotionally deprived fraudulent gentleman expressing his feelings with words – funny words, but I understand them. I understand him.

  I let him kiss me, let his scratchy stubble rub against my face, and I relish every sweet second, grumbling my annoyance when he pulls away.

  ‘I’m going to the gym before work this morning.’ He rises to his knees and pulls me up to his lap. ‘Would you like to come?’

  ‘Oh?’ I’m not sure that I need to now. All my anger and stress has completely disintegrated, thanks to Miller and his worshipping ways. Punching a bag of sand to death isn’t necessary any more. ‘I don’t have membership to any gyms,’ I lie, thinking it’s also not necessary for me to observe Miller beating a bag of sand to death. The scenes from the studio at the gym and outside Ice are not events I relish or want to relive.

  ‘You’ll be my guest.’ He lands me with a quick kiss and lifts me from the bed. ‘Get dressed.’

  ‘I need a shower,’ I say, watching his back disappear into his wardrobe. The scent of sex is heavy and clinging all over me. ‘I’ll be two minutes.’ I make my way towards his bathroom but gasp when I’m intercepted and swiped from my feet.

  ‘Wrong,’ he says matter-of-factly, carting me back to the bed across his arms. ‘There’s no time.’

  ‘But I feel all . . . sticky.’ I cringe as I’m placed on my feet, finding Miller semi-clothed in only his shorts, his bare chest being waved like a red flag to a bull. I can’t rip my eyes away as it gets closer and closer until my nose is almost touching it.

  ‘Earth to Olivia.’ His silky voice yanks me out of my trance and I step back, lifting my eyes to find a sanctimonious grin.

  I grin back. ‘God paid extra special attention when crafting you.’

  His eyebrows arch and his grin stretches further across his face. ‘And he created you for me.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.’ He cocks his head towards the bed. ‘Want to help me make my bed?’

  ‘No!’ I blurt the word without thought, thinking I’ve already wasted too much energy on fussing over his beloved bed, and also remembering the last time I made a masterpiece of it. He could barely contain his compulsion to rip off all of the sheets and fix it. And he eventually did. ‘You do it.’ He’ll only put it all right again, so it’ll be a total waste of my time.

  ‘As you wish,’ he says on an agreeable nod. ‘Get dressed.’

  I don’t argue, leaving Miller to fix his bed while I retrieve my clothes from the bottom drawer. ‘I don’t have any gym clothes.’

  ‘I’ll take you home.’ He flaps the quilt onto the bed artfully, and it lands pretty perfectly, but he still makes his way around, pulling and tweaking corners. ‘Then I’ll take you to work. What time do you need to be there?’

  ‘Nine.’

  ‘Excellent. We have three-point-five hours.’ He positions the pillows and steps back to assess his handiwork before turning and catching me watching him. ‘Chop-chop.’

  Smiling, I shimmy into my dress and slip my heels on. ‘Teeth?’ I can hold off on the shower if he insists, but I need to freshen up my mouth.

  ‘We’ll do it together.’ He sweeps his arm out in a gesture for me to lead on, which I do with a smile on my face. He’s still predominantly uptight, but there’s an air of peace surrounding him, and I know the source of that harmony is me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The health club is heaving. After finding a small space on one of the benches in the ladies’ changing rooms, I hurry into my gym kit and shove my bag in a locker before escaping the happy morning chatter of many gym buddies and falling into the corridor, feeling exhausted already. I make a quick scan of the corridor but I can’t see Miller, so I pace towards the end of the building where I remember the gym to be, passing the many glass-paned doors and spotting the various classes under way. Stopping at the last door, I watch as dozens of women prance around in front of a huge mirror, each looking super-fit and toned, each, although showing exertion, displaying perfectly made-up faces. My hand lifts and feels the knotted bun on my head, and my face in the reflection catches my attention. I’ve not a scrap of make-up on, nor do I look like a regular. It seems the gym isn’t an excuse to skimp on personal appearance.

  ‘Oh!’ I gasp when I feel hot breath at my ear.

  ‘Wrong way,’ he whispers, snaking his forearm around my waist and lifting me from my feet. ‘We’re in this room.’ I’m transported back the way I came with no complaint, until Miller is entering the very room where I spied on him. The door is closed behind us with my back still secured against his chest, and he soon spins me around and pushes me up against it. My first thoughts are of disappointment when I find him wearing a T-shirt, but they are soon hijacked when I’m hoisted up to his lips and blindsided by the wonderful talents of his mouth. This is a workout of another kind.

  ‘You could have kept me in bed and tasted me,’ I mumble, feeling him smile against my lips. All of these smiles and his relaxed persona, especially out of the bedroom, are throwing me all off-kilter. I love it, but it’s all so very new.

  ‘I can taste you wherever I like.’ He lets me slide down the door to my feet and steps back, leaving me resentful of the sudden space between us.

  So I close it and circle his waist with my arms, burying my nose in the material of his T-shirt. ‘Let’s just have our thing.’

  ‘We’re here to work up a sweat.’ He has humour in his tone as he collects my wrists from behind his back and disconnects me from him.

  �
��There are too many things I could say to that,’ I grumble.

  ‘Is my sweet girl exposing her sassy streak?’ His eyebrow cocks as he grasps the hem of his T-shirt and slowly pulls it up over his torso, revealing ripple after ripple until I’m cross-eyed with delight.

  ‘You’re being childish,’ I accuse with slightly narrowed eyes. ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That.’ I wave my arm up and down his chest, and he looks down, that wayward curl falling loose. ‘Put your T-shirt back on.’