***Please be aware of mild spoilers if you haven’t read the first 2 books in the One Night series***
EXCERPT FROM ONE NIGHT- UNVEILED (UK Jan 29th, US Feb 10th)
There are no interferers here in New York – no one to try to take away his most prized possession. I’m his most prized possession. And it’s a title I’m thrilled to have. It’s also a burden I’m willing to shoulder. Because I know that the sanctuary we’ve created here is only temporary. Facing that dark world is a battle hovering on the horizon of our current almost perfect existence. And I hate myself for doubting the strength within me to see us through it – the strength Miller is so confident I have.
A mild stirring beside me pulls me back into the lavish suite we’ve called home since we arrived in New York, and I smile when I see him nuzzle into his pillow on a cute murmur. His dark waves are a mussed mess upon his lovely head and his jaw shadowed by coarse stubble. He sighs and pats around half asleep until his palm feels its way up to my head and his fingers locate my wild locks. My smile widens as I lie still and let my gaze linger on his face, feeling his fingers combing through my hair as he settles again. This has become another habit of my perfect part-time gentleman. He’ll twiddle with my hair for hours, even in his sleep. I’ve woken with knots on a few occasions, sometimes with Miller’s fingers still caught up in the strands, but I never complain. I need the contact – any contact – from him. My eyelids slowly close, soothed by his touch. But all too soon, my peace is bombarded by unwelcome visions – including the haunting sight of Gracie Taylor. I snap my eyes open and bolt upright in bed, wincing when my head gets yanked back and my hair pulled. ‘Shit!’ I hiss, reaching up to begin the meticulous task of unravelling Miller’s fingers from my hair. He grumbles a few times but doesn’t wake, and I rest his hand on the pillow before pulling myself softly to the edge of the bed. Glancing over my naked shoulder, I see Miller lost in a deep sleep and silently hope his dreams are serene and blissful. Unlike mine. Letting my feet find the plush carpet, I push myself up, having a little stretch and a sigh. I remain standing beside the bed, staring blankly out the huge window. Could I really have seen my mother for the first time in eighteen years? Or was it just a hallucination brought on by stress?
‘Tell me what’s troubling that beautiful mind of yours.’ His sleepy rasp interrupts my thoughts and I turn to find him lying on his side, praying hands resting under his cheek. I force a smile, one I know won’t convince him, and let Miller and all of his perfection distract me from my inner turmoil.
‘Just daydreaming,’ I say quietly, ignoring his doubtful expression. I’ve mentally tortured myself since we boarded that plane, replayed that moment over and over, and my quiet pensiveness has been silently noted by Miller. Not that he’s pressed me on it, leaving me certain that he thinks I’m reflecting on the trauma that has landed us in New York. He would be partly right. Many events, revelations, and visions have plagued my mind since arriving here, making me resentful that I can’t fully appreciate Miller and his devotion to worshipping me.
‘Come here,’ he whispers, remaining still with no gesture or encouragement, only his quiet, commanding words.
‘I was going to make coffee.’ I’m a fool to think I can avoid his questions or concern for much longer.
‘I’ve asked once.’ He pushes himself to his elbow and cocks his head. His lips are pressed into a straight line, and his crystal blue eyes are burning through me. ‘Don’t make me repeat myself.’
I shake my head mildly on a sigh and slip back between the sheets, crawling into his chest while he remains still and allows me to find my place.
Once I’m settled, his arms encircle me and his nose goes straight to my hair. ‘Better?’
I nod into his chest and stare across the planes of his muscles while he feels me everywhere and takes deep breaths. I know he’s desperate to comfort and reassure me. But he hasn’t. He’s allowed me my quiet time and I know it’s been incredibly difficult for him. I’m overthinking. I know it, and Miller knows it, too.
He pulls out of the warmth of my hair and spends a few moments arranging it just so. Then he focuses worried blues on mine. ‘Never stop loving me, Olivia Taylor.’
‘Never,’ I affirm, guilt settling deep. I want to reassure him that my love for him shouldn’t be of any concern – none at all. ‘Don’t overthink.’ I reach up and drag my thumb across his full bottom lip and watch as he blinks lazily and shifts his hand to clutch mine at his mouth.
He flattens my palm and kisses the centre. ‘It’s a two-way street, gorgeous girl. I can’t see you sad.’
‘I have you. I couldn’t possibly be sad.’
He gives me a mild smile and leans forward to plant a delicate kiss on the end of my nose. ‘I beg to differ.’
‘You can beg all you like, Miller Hart.’ I’m quickly seized and pulled onto his front, his thighs spreading so I’m cradled between them. He clenches my cheeks in his palms and reaches forward with his lips, leaving them millimetres away from mine with hot air spreading across my skin. My body’s reaction isn’t something I can help. And I don’t want to.
‘Let me taste you,’ he murmurs, searching my eyes.
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