My palms cover my face, not wanting him to see the tears building in my eyes again, but I’m not blessed with privacy for long. He takes my hands and guides them to my lap, nodding his handsome head slowly in understanding.

‘This one –’ he points to one of the brilliant teardrop stones flanking the showpiece diamond – ‘is me.’ Then his finger drifts across to the matching one on the other side. ‘And this one represents you.’

‘Miller, I—’

‘Shhh.’ He places his fingertip on my lips and raises his dark eyebrows in gentle warning. Once he’s certain I will fulfil his wish to let him finish, he takes his attention back to the ring, and I can do nothing more than wait for him to finish his interpretation of what this ring signifies. His index finger rests on the teardrop diamond that represents me. ‘This gem is beautiful.’ The pad of his finger drifts across to the matching teardrop diamond. ‘It makes this one brighter. It complements it. But this one, the one that represents us –’ he rests his touch on the main gem and drags his gaze up to my stinging face – ‘this one is the brightest, most sparkling of them all.’ Executing one of his signature lazy blinks, he pulls the antique from the navy-blue velvet cushion, while I continue my internal battle to keep it together.

This perfectly imperfect man is more beautiful than I know he’ll ever accept, but I also appreciate that I really do make him a better man – not because I’m trying to change him but because he wants to be better. For me. He holds the ring up and glides his finger across the dozens of tiny stones that stem from the intricate peak. ‘And all of these shards of sparkles are those tingling fireworks we create together.’

I expected his words to penetrate me deeply. I didn’t expect them to cripple me. ‘It’s perfect.’ I reach up and stroke down his rough cheek, feeling those simmering fireworks begin to ignite within.

‘It’s not,’ he murmurs, taking my hand from his cheek. I watch as he slowly slides the ring onto my left ring finger. ‘Now it’s perfect.’ He drops a lingering kiss onto the ring atop my finger before he nuzzles his cheek into my palm, his eyes closing.

I’m rendered incapable of speech . . . almost. He’s just put that ring on my ring finger. On my left hand. I don’t want to break the perfection of this moment, but I’m being bombarded by a repeated question. ‘Are you asking me to marry you?’

His smile nearly causes me to pass out, his dimple appearing and his rogue wave slipping onto his forehead. I’m taken from my knees and helped to my bottom, my legs being guided around his back as he pulls me in close until we’re locked together. ‘No, Olivia Taylor, I’m not. I’m asking you to be mine for eternity.’

I can’t help the emotion that rips through me. His face, his sincerity . . . his overwhelming love for me. In another pointless attempt to hide my tears, I drop my face into his chest and sob silently to myself while he sighs into my hair and rubs comforting circles into my back. I’m not sure why I’m crying when I feel so happy.

‘It’s an eternity ring,’ he says above me before he encases my head in his hands, silently demanding I look at him before he continues. ‘What finger you wear it on is of no importance, and I believe there’s another stunning gem holding court on your other ring finger, anyway. I would never suggest you replace your grandmother’s ring.’

I smile through my sobs, knowing that isn’t Miller’s only reason for placing the ring on my left hand. It’s his way of giving just a little piece of what he’s figured I’ll eventually want. ‘I love your bones, Miller Hart.’

‘And I’m deeply fascinated by you, Olivia Taylor.’ He pushes his lips to mine and completes the perfection of the moment with a perfect, worshipful kiss. ‘I have a request,’ he says into my mouth between delicate rotations of his soft tongue.

‘I’ll never stop,’ I confirm, allowing him to help me up while he keeps our mouths connected and our bodies close.

‘Thank you.’ He lifts me to his body, securing me against his chest, and starts to pace to the other door that’ll take us into the lounge of the suite. The rug lying in front of the fireplace is cream, soft and plush, and it’s where we’re heading. Our kiss is broken and I’m settled on my back. ‘Wait,’ he orders gently, and then strides out of the lounge, leaving me a pile of pent-up desire, my whole body on fire. My eyes fall to my ring, reminding myself of its magnificence, but more of what it signifies. My lips curve into a contented smile, but immediately straighten when I look up and find Miller naked.

He speaks no words as he stalks towards me, his eyes full of promise. I’m about to be worshipped, and something inside tells me it’s going to blow all other worshipping sessions into orbit. I can see need seeping from his every naked pore. He wants to follow up his words, his gift, his promise, and his kiss with physical confirmation. Every nerve ending, drop of blood, and muscle within me turns to fire.

Placing a condom to the side of me, he drops to his knees, his arousal already solid and clearly pulsing before my eyes. ‘I want my habit naked,’ he rumbles, all low and gritty, escalating my wants and needs. Dropping to his elbow so his tall physique flanks my side, he turns my skin to molten when his palm slides beneath the material of my skirt and travels the short distance to my inside thigh.

I try to draw a deep steadying breath but resort to holding it instead. The smoothness of his palms circling teasingly close to my entrance is torture at its worst, and we’re not even out of the gates yet.

‘Are you ready to be worshipped, Olivia Taylor?’ His finger skims over my knickers softly, making my back snap into an arch and my stored breath rush out fast.

‘Please don’t,’ I beg, nailing him with pleading eyes. ‘Please don’t torture me.’

‘Tell me you want me to worship you.’ My skirt is dragged down my legs slowly, taking my knickers with it.

‘Please, Miller.’

‘Say it.’

‘Worship me,’ I breathe, lifting my back slightly when he slips his hand under my top to unfasten my bra.

‘As you wish,’ he agrees quietly, which is obscene, because I know for sure it’s what he wishes, too. ‘Lift for me.’

I rise to a sitting position as commanded, silent and obedient while he shifts to his knees again and pulls my top over my head, then my bra down my arms. They are cast aside carelessly before his palm slips to my upper back and his kneeling frame moves in, causing me to fall to my back again.

He’s hovering above me, his body half settled on mine, his eyes sinking into me. ‘There’s something so amazing that happens every time I look into your eyes.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I can’t. It’s beyond my ability to describe it.’

‘Like your fascination?’

He smiles. It’s a shy smile, making him seem all boyish and cute – a very rare appearance for Miller Hart. Yet regardless of its rarity, it’s no smoke screen. It’s not fake or a façade. It’s real. For me alone, he’s real. ‘Just like that,’ he confirms, swooping down to capture my lips. My hands move to his shoulders and smooth his muscles, both of us humming our happiness as our tongues roll so slowly they’re almost unmoving. My head tilts to gain a better connection, my growing need beginning to run away with me.