Unveiled (Page 17)

I’m being driven by pure anger, blinded by determination. ‘No!’ Strength surges through me and I heave upward, violently arching my back in an attempt to escape the clutches of an increasingly concerned Miller.

‘Calm. Down. Olivia,’ he warns on a quiet hiss in my ear once he’s secured me against his naked chest. Our anger is detectable through the combined heat of our skin. ‘Don’t make me ask you twice.’

My breathing is heavy, my hair a mess of locks falling all over my red face. ‘Let go of me.’ I struggle to speak clearly through my self-inflicted exhaustion.

Breathing deeply, he pushes his lips into my hair and releases me. I waste no time. I’m up from his lap and running away from my cold reality, slamming the door behind me and not slowing until I land in the en suite of the master bedroom. I slam that door, too. Then I stomp over to the egg-shaped tub and flip the taps on. The anger swirling through me is blocking any instructions from my mind to calm down. I need to calm down, but my hate for William and my mental torment over my mother won’t allow it. My hands find my hair and yank, the anger transforming into frustration. In an attempt to distract myself, I squeeze some toothpaste onto my brush and scrub my teeth. It’s a silly effort to rid my mouth of the sour aftertaste of her name on my tongue.

After spending far more time brushing than is truly necessary, I spit and rinse, then look up to the mirror. My pale cheeks are rosy, a mixture of receding anger and the familiar flush of desire that’s ever present these days. But my navy eyes are disturbed. After the horrific events that saw us fleeing London, burying my ignorant head in a bottomless pit of sand has been easy. Now I’m being punished by relentless jolts of realism. ‘Lock the world outside and stay here with me forever,’ I whisper, losing myself in the reflection of my own eyes. My world slows around me as I brace my hands on the side on the sink, my chin dropping to my chest. Hopelessness is trickling into my overwrought mind. It’s unwelcome, but my exhausted mind and body are failing to locate any scrap of resolve amid my emotion. Everything seems impossible again.

On a heavy sigh, I glance up and find the water nearing the top of the bath, but I don’t rush over. I haven’t the energy, so I slowly turn and drag my dejected body across the room to flip the taps off. Then I step in and sink into the water, resisting the urge to close my eyes and immerse my face. I remain still, staring vacantly across the large room, forcing my mind to blank out. It works to a certain degree. I concentrate of the pleasing tones of Miller’s voice, every loving word he’s ever spoken to me and every caress of my body. All of it. From the very start to now. And I hope and pray that there is so much more to come.

A light tap on the bathroom door pulls my dry eyes across the room, and I blink repeatedly to moisten them up again. ‘Olivia?’ Miller’s voice is low and concerned. It makes me feel like shit. He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead gently pushing the door open and holding onto the handle while he leans on the doorframe and searches me out. He’s slipped some black boxers on and I can see a red blotch on his ribs, courtesy of me. When his crystal blues locate me, my guilt multiplies by a million. He tries to smile but ends up dropping his eyes to the floor. ‘I’m sorry.’

His apology confuses me. ‘What are you sorry for?’

‘Everything.’ He doesn’t hesitate. ‘For letting you fall in love with me. For . . .’ He looks up at me and takes a slow pull of breath. ‘For being too fascinated by you to leave you alone.’

A sad smile forms on my lips and I reach up to collect the shampoo before holding it up to him. ‘Will you do me the honour of washing my hair?’ He needs to lose himself in some worshipping, anything to steady our shaky world.

‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure,’ he confirms, his long legs eating up the distance between us. Dropping to his knees at the edge of the bath, he takes the bottle and squirts some in his hands. I sit up and turn my back to him to give him easy access, then close my eyes when I feel his strong fingers push into my scalp. His slow motions and care with me install a glimmer of peace into my worried bones. It’s quiet for a while. My head is massaged, I’m gently ordered to rinse, and then he’s working conditioner through my waves. ‘I love your hair,’ he whispers, taking his time to feel it, combing through with his fingers as he hums.

‘It needs trimming,’ I reply, smiling to myself when his busy fingers halt abruptly.

‘Only trimming.’ He gathers the wet, slippery masses into a ponytail and twists forever until it’s all coiled around his fist. ‘And I want to come with you.’ Gently pulling back, he tilts and brings my face close to his.

‘You want to monitor the hairdresser?’ I ask, bemused, shifting in the water, so grateful for his intention to distract me.

‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ He isn’t kidding, either. I know it. I’m kissed lightly on the lips, little soft pecks over and over, until his hot tongue pushes into my mouth and sweeps through lovingly. I relax into his kiss, my eyes closing, my world stabilising. ‘You taste so good.’

He breaks our kiss but keeps his face close as he unravels my hair thoughtfully until it’s falling down my back and half of the length is splaying in the water. It’s grown far too long, now skimming my lower back, but it looks like it’s staying that way. ‘Let’s get this conditioner out of your unruly locks.’ He caresses my cheek with his thumb for a few moments before his hands shift to my neck and encourage me to sink into the water. I slide down the tub and close my eyes as I disappear below the depths, my hearing becoming muffled.