My lips press together as he raises his eyebrows, looking for a serious answer. Then he loses the battle to maintain his serious face, his twitching lip lifting a smidgen. ‘Ha!’ I laugh, shocked by his comedy streak, all sadness sucked up by humour. I lose control. My head falls back and I fall apart, shoulders jumping, stomach aching, and tears now springing from amusement, which is so much more appealing than the despair of a few moments ago.

‘Much better,’ I hear Miller conclude, gathering me into his arms and striding across his room to the bathroom. I’m not sure if the staggers and sways are a result of his drunkenness or my persistent jerks in his arms. He places me with accuracy onto the vanity unit and leaves me to collect my hysteria while he unbuttons his waistcoat, regarding me with a dash of humour on his heart-stopping face.

‘I’m sorry,’ I chuckle, concentrating on breathing deeply to dampen down the shakes.

‘Don’t be. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than seeing you so happy.’ He shrugs out of his waistcoat and I’m stupidly delighted when I see him fold it neatly before slipping it deftly into the washing basket. ‘Well, something else does, but your happiness comes a close second.’ He starts on his shirt, the first button revealing a sliver of taut, tempting flesh.

I stop laughing immediately. ‘You should laugh more. It—’

‘Makes me less intimidating,’ he finishes for me. ‘Yes, you’ve told me. But I think I—’

‘Express yourself just fine.’ I reach forward and assist his fumbling fingers with the tiny buttons, then help him slide the white cotton from his shoulders. ‘Perfect,’ I sigh, sitting back to relish my stunning view, watching with lusty eyes as every muscle of his super-perfect torso undulates while he folds his shirt. He places it skilfully in the washing basket and he’s back before me, arms draped limply at his sides, chin dropped, eyes heavy. I soak up his concentrated stare and lift my hands to catch a feel of the harsh stubble that’s darkening his face. I’m allowed to take my time feeling him, my fingers tracing the planes of his jaw, drifting up to the corners of his eyes, and tenderly smoothing over his lids when they close for me. I cherish every part of him with my eyes and touch until I’m working my fingertips down his arms and onto his hands. ‘Let me fix this,’ I say, turning over his hand, revealing knuckles reddened with blood and a little blemishing.

His eyes open and fall to my fingers threading through his, and his hand flexes in my hold, but he doesn’t wince or hiss with pain. ‘In the shower.’ He shakes me away and takes the hem of my top, working it up my body, forcing me to lift my arms so he can rid me of the material. Then my bra is slowly removed, exposing my modest br**sts that feel swollen and heavy under his appreciative, if a little drunken, gaze. My ni**les harden to pebbles, tingling sweetly as the pad of his thumb brushes gently over each in turn. ‘Perfect,’ he says, leaning in and planting a chaste kiss on my parted lips. ‘Jump down.’

I follow through on his soft order and slide from the counter to my feet, kicking my Converse off and taking the initiative to begin on his trousers while he, too, removes his shoes. There’s no rush, each of us happy to take our time undressing the other until we’re both naked. I watch him collect a foil packet from the cupboard, his fingers fiddling clumsily as he slides the condom out, so I step forward and take it from him. I feel comfortable as I sheathe him, feeling his blues burning into my face, and once I’m done, he’s swiftly lifting me to his body with ease. My limbs respond on impulse and coil around him. We’re nothing but skin on skin, heart on heart, need on need. He keeps us to the side of the shower spray while it warms up, and once he’s happy that it’s at a comfortable temperature, he takes us under and stands silently holding me while water rains down and washes away the dirt, the tension, the doubt, the pain.

‘Are you comfortable?’ he asks.

‘Perfect.’ It’s the only word I can think to use. I smile into his shoulder and pull back, getting his perfect face, all wet and dazzling, into my sight. ‘Can I stay with you tonight?’

‘Of course.’

‘Thank you.’ I show my appreciation by nibbling at his rough chin.

‘It wasn’t really up for discussion,’ he informs me, taking me to the wall and encouraging me to rest my back against it. ‘Too cold?’

I suck in a shocked breath as the coolness of the mosaic tiles spreads across my back. ‘A little.’ He goes to peel me away but I stiffen, stopping him. ‘No, I’m used to it now.’

He eyes me doubtfully but doesn’t challenge my little white lie. ‘You’re all slippery and wet,’ he muses, widening his stance and moving his palms to the rear of my thighs. His intentions are clear and longed for, and my hitching breath tells him so. ‘I want to slide myself into your core and bathe in the fulfilment that you reward me with.’

I wheeze shallow breaths of anticipation. ‘Fulfilment by worshipping.’

‘By acceptance,’ he corrects me, rearing back and taking a hold of his arousal. ‘You give me the greatest pleasure by accepting me in my entirety, not just by accepting me into this beautiful body.’

I’m at serious risk of breaking down on him again, his reverent words immobilising me. ‘There’s nothing more natural to me.’

‘My gorgeous, sweet girl.’ He takes my lips as he slips past my swelling folds, pushing deep and high on a strangled groan.

The instant sensation of his thickness submerged to capacity within me pulls my back straight and I whimper, trying to meet the steady rhythm of his tongue as it seduces my mouth while he holds himself inside me, unmoving, twitching, and groaning.

‘Am I hurting you?’

‘No.’ I’m adamant, regardless of the fact that there’s mild discomfort.

‘Still scope for breaking in?’

It will determine whether I f**k you hard immediately, or break you in first.

‘Always.’ I smile and pull away, resting the back of my head against the wall to lose myself in Miller and his wondrous eyes, rather than savour the attention of his addictive mouth.

On a subtle nod, he withdraws slowly, making my eyes flutter and my stomach furl, too many gratifying elements attacking me at once – the feel of him, his worshipping, the sight of him, his smell, his attentiveness, and my favourite wayward curl – all giving me glorious, inexorable pleasure. I brace myself for his advance and when it happens, exact and expertly, a shallow cry of gratification gushes past my lips. I pant, refusing to shut my eyes and miss a moment of his face contorting with heady craving. It sharpens his features. I could pass out just at the sight of him.

‘How does that feel?’ He chokes the words out and retreats again, slipping out almost all the way before tilting his h*ps up, sending him plunging on a shaky exhale of breath.

‘Good.’ I grasp his shoulders and clench my teeth, soaking up each delicious drive. He’s into his stride now, pumping his h*ps continuously, each thrust as controlled and measured as the last.

‘Just good?’

‘Amazing!’ I yelp, catching a dash of friction on my clitoris that sends me wild. ‘Shit!’

‘That’s more like it,’ he muses to himself, repeating the move that had me cursing a second before.