Promised

‘Don’t stop,’ I breathe, begging for more insane, torturous pleasure. He’s moving all of a sudden, the water splashing crazily around us as he crawls up my body and seals our mouths, his tongue caressing me in time to the wicked thrusts of his fingers, his thumb working firm circles on my throbbing clitoris.

My hands grip his wet shoulders, holding on for dear life, his strength the only thing preventing me from slipping under the water. I’m a little fevered, but Miller keeps things steady and controlled, despite my moans of desperation.

And then it happens.

The explosion.

The release of a million lightning bolts that force me to break our kiss and hide my face in his neck as my body tries to deal with the blitz of pleasure. He’s quiet as he helps my trembling body settle. His only movements are of his fingers circling deeply and his thumb resting lightly on my twitching mass of nerves, easing the persistent, sharp throbs.

‘I thought that I was supposed to de-stress you,’ I wheeze, not willing to release my hold – not ever.

‘Livy, you have.’

‘By you worshipping me?’

‘Yes, a little, but mostly by just letting me be with you.’ He sits up, taking me with him, and pulls me onto his lap. My heavy, wet hair is arranged just so, and his palms wrap around the tops of my arms, holding me firmly. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

I feel my skin heat, and I drop my eyes, a little embarrassed.

‘I’m paying you a compliment, Livy,’ he whispers, pulling my eyes back up.

‘Thank you.’

He smiles a little and shifts his hands to my waist, his eyes journeying over every visible part of my body. I watch him closely as he slowly drops his lips to my breast and kisses it tenderly, and then he starts trailing his finger over every part of me, so lightly I sometimes can’t feel it. He inhales a deep, thoughtful breath and lets it out, his head tilting a little to the side, adding to his thoughtfulness. ‘Every time I touch you,’ he whispers, ‘I feel I need to do it with the utmost care.’

‘Why?’ I ask quietly, a little perplexed.

He takes another long pull of air and turns his eyes to me, blinking slowly. ‘Because I’m frightened you might turn to dust.’

His admission chokes me. ‘I won’t turn to dust.’

‘You might,’ he murmurs. ‘What would I do?’ His eyes scan my face, and I’m shocked to see nothing but complete seriousness, maybe even a little fear.

Guilt tells me I shouldn’t, but I can’t help feeling quietly happy by his question. He’s falling, too, just as hard as I am. I embrace his uncertainty and cuddle him tightly, locking my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips, like I’m trying to squeeze some reassurance into him. ‘I’m only going away if you send me,’ I say, because I think that’s what he means. I couldn’t possibly turn to dust.

‘There’s something I’d like to share with you.’

‘What?’ I ask, remaining where I am with my face stuck to his neck.

‘Let’s get washed and I’ll show you.’ He reaches behind his neck and pulls my arms away, forcing me to vacate my comfort zone. ‘You’ll be the first.’

‘First?’

‘The first person to see.’ He’s turning me in his arms, therefore turning my inquisitive face away, too.

‘See?’

His chin rests on my shoulder. ‘I love your curiosity.’

‘You make me curious,’ I accuse, pushing my cheek onto his lips. ‘What are you going to show me?’

‘You’ll see,’ he teases, releasing me.

I turn around and face him again, seeing him sliding down, dunking his head and rubbing some shampoo through it, before rinsing and following it up with some conditioner.

I make myself comfortable at the other end of the bath and watch as he works the conditioner through his waves. ‘You use conditioner?’

He pauses with his massaging hands and studies me carefully for a few moments before he speaks. ‘I have very untamed hair.’

‘Me too.’

‘Then you must feel my pain.’ He slides back down the bath and rinses his untamed waves, while I grin like an idiot. He’s embarrassed.

When he surfaces, I’m still grinning, and he rolls his eyes at me as he pushes himself up, my gaze lifting with him forever until he’s towering over me and I’m staring at his soaking, na**d perfection.

‘I’ll leave you to wash your untamed mane.’ He’s not smiling, but I can tell he wants to.

‘Thank you, kind sir.’ I continue to admire his wet nakedness as he takes the steps from the bath, his butt cheeks tensing and swelling delightfully. ‘Nice buns,’ I say quietly to myself, slipping further into the bubbles.

He turns slowly and cocks his head to the side. ‘I beg you don’t adopt your grandmother’s terminology.’

I burn bright red, and with nowhere else to escape my embarrassment, I disappear under the water.

When I’m finished taming my own wild locks with conditioner, I reluctantly leave the warm serenity of Miller’s colossal bath and dry off. Ensuring I’ve emptied the tub, rinsed the bubbles away and tidied up the bathroom after me, I pad into his bedroom and find a pair of black boxer shorts and a grey T-shirt spread neatly on the bed. I smile to myself as I dress, his boxer shorts barely staying up on my waist, his T-shirt completely swamping me, but they smell of Miller so I tolerate the annoying need to hold the shorts up as I go in search of him.

I find him in the kitchen, looking breathtaking in his own pair of black boxers and a T-shirt to match the one he has picked for me. Seeing Miller without a perfect suit adorning his perfect body is a rarity, but the casual edge that his casual attire puts on him whenever I do is always welcome. I’m beginning to resent his suits, seeing them as a mask that he hides behind.