by Meg MacRose
Helen turned towards him, totally forgetting that she had dropped the sheet while she had appraised the pink rose on her belly.
“Good morning. And it’s a yes to the coffee, please. One can’t start their day without coffee. Well, I can’t anyway.”
#
Mitch stood transfixed, unable to move or speak as her naked form turned to face him. Yesterday, make no mistake, Helen had been stunning in the light green dress that clung to her body in all the right places. But that memory was all but overshadowed by the image he saw right now. Helen looked like a goddess who had arisen. Masses of buttery silk-blonde hair fell straight down her back, in sleek perfection. Her lithe body and long toned legs brought back memories of last night’s antics. But it was the flower across her stomach that hypnotised him. It looked like a watercolour that had come to life. Yesterday, he’d fervently hoped the hideous tattoo he’d seen on her twelve years ago had been removed. In fact, he’d expected it, with the kind of job she had. But not only had she not removed her tattoo, it had morphed into something much more, something quite unspeakably beautiful. Mitch stared at her, unable to look away. His hands yearned to touch her masterpiece, to stroke it, to see if it was real.
In the space of only a few seconds, Helen had turned one of his ideals on its head. He’d always hated tattoos and their association with the depravity of with growing up in a poor urban council estate. Somehow, he’d expected her, of all people, to have shared his view. And yet, here she was, without blinking an eyelid, comfortable to be sporting the most beautiful art ornamented on her own skin. He itched to caress and kiss it. She had challenged him yesterday, asking if he was small-minded. Yet, here it was, her tattoo, a damning indictment to indeed his own small-mindedness. It wasn’t a signifier of their impoverished childhood. Not at all. It was beautiful and creative. And very unique.
“Your tattoo looks amazing.” It was all he could say to her. Considering the revelation that her body art had just had on him, his comment sounded pathetic.
Helen smiled back as she nodded.
“I love it. There’s not a day that goes past that I don’t see it and smile. The flowers, butterflies, all of them make me smile, feel calm.”
“Is there more? Do you have tattoos on your back?” She’d had her back turned when he’d first come in from the French doors. But he didn’t remember seeing any.
Her eyes glittered in the morning light as she responded. “Only smaller ones. Mainly butterflies. A few ladybirds and a dragonfly.”
She turned around slowly with her arms out wide, her entire body on display for him. His first impression was pure and utter lust. Here she stood, totally naked with her arms out, quite comfortable at his inspection of her body. Her breasts were creamy and full, perfectly rounded, but still pert. Her fuzzy womanhood was soft and springy. His groin grew solid against the towel wrapped around his waist, with an absolute desire to ravish her naked form then and there. He realised she was waiting for his reaction and forced his gaze to return and focus on the colourful embellishments on her body. Sure enough, scattered across her torso were strategically placed small bugs. The dragonfly, also done in a 3D effect, looked like it had just landed at the base of her shoulder blade.
He let out a small whistle. He had no words, only a great longing to worship her body’s creations. To touch and feel and taste.
#
“I get that reaction a lot when people see my tattoos. They go quiet, not quite sure if they like them, or even approve of them. I love them all, myself. My tattoos have become a part of me. Besides, I got them all done for my own benefit, not for anyone else’s.”
Helen stroked the vibrant rose on her toned stomach as she spoke her last comment, looking down at herself.
“This remains my favourite. It was my first tattoo. I designed it myself. When I see the 3D effect in the mirror…what can I say? I love it.”
Helen looked up watching Mitch’s expression, to try and work out what he thought about her tattoos. His face was an enigma, closed, giving no hint as to the thoughts in his handsome head.
In the space of a few seconds, he closed the gap between them. He knelt in front of her and positioned his cool cheek lightly against the side of her belly. With not a word uttered, his finger, warm and slightly rough, traced around the stem of the rose, sparks igniting everywhere he went.
The light dance of his fingertips tingled and shivered over her abdomen as she stood in the room in total silence. Unable to keep her hands from doing nothing, she ran her fingers through his smooth and silky hair. She gasped in surprise as he repositioned himself and replaced his fingers with his lips which fluttered down on her with the most delicate little butterfly kisses that she’d ever experienced. His intensity and gentleness humbled her. Never before had anyone explored and revered her like this.
She felt pure ecstasy at his act of worship, as his mouth followed each and every swirl and line. His kisses were soft and lingered long enough that she caught her breath in her throat and her knees went weak. Her promise to herself of no more than a night of passion evaporated as his fingers crept down to tease her warm centre.
Helen let out a groan. She couldn’t stand on her feet anymore.
“Mitch, please.” Her hands still in his hair, she tugged him up until, with great reluctance, he stood.
“I hadn’t finished. You know I’ll have to start again.” Mitch’s lazy smile made her heart flip.
“Just not right now.”
Without any thought, Helen yanked off the towel at his midriff and splayed her hands across his buttocks.
“The lady doth protest too much.”
“Believe me, there’s no protest” She whispered against his mouth.
Pushing him down on the bed, she moved over his body, ready to fit her form against his.
“Hang on, Miss Impatient.” Under the weight of her body, Mitch turned and reached into the side drawer and retrieved a foil packet.
“I checked earlier.” He admitted with a grin before, with apt fingers, he covered his hardened sheath.
“Now, where we were?”
Helen swatted his arm as she reclaimed her position on top.
“Hmm. I don’t think so. I can’t see the magic of your art when you’re on top.”
With an unexpected move, Helen was flipped onto the bottom, her back sinking into the soft bedding.
“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. You know that don’t you?”
Helen tried to mutter something, but the build-up of emotion made it difficult to speak.
He stroked her stomach again. His expression darkly serious. “Helen, I want you in my life.”
“Shhh.” She placed her finger on his lips to silence him. This wasn’t the time to be having deep discussions. Not when she needed him inside of her.
He moved over her and into her with firm yet gentle possession. His hands cradled her face in his with the utmost tenderness.
She sighed. Everything about Mitch was exquisite. She didn’t want to think about what happened next when they went their own way. Which was of course was what had to happen.
Any thoughts of their future were erased from her mind as his thrust hit a very precise spot. The physical sensation combined with the emotional rapture that had built up and flooded her since she had revealed her tattoos to him sent her tumbling into an unknown abyss of joy.
Helen bit her lip hard to keep herself from crying out as waves upon waves destroyed any last resolve to keep Mitch at a distance. Their movements together no longer had that delicious slowness, but were a fevered frenzy, an intensity that grew.
Pleasurable tremors ran through Helen’s body at the same moment that Mitch growled his own climax against her glowing skin.
Their bodies lay entwined on the pristine white bedcovers. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. His heart was beating against her body, the rhythm both soothing and strong.
“Helen. My sweet Helen.” Mitch’s bright blue eyes glistened like the
ocean as he looked into her own. His hands framed her head as his fingers danced a delicate featherlike massage on her scalp.
“I know that you don’t want to look to the future. But I want you to know that I really really like you. A lot. I have since we were kids. Our paths took their own ways back then. We were too young and too desperate to get out of the estate.”
He chuckled. “I used to get off on teasing you. And because we were older, Aidan and I probably bossed you around more than we should’ve. We looked out for you. If you weren’t tagging along with us, we’d go and check that you were okay, check where you were. See if you needed anything. We were all kids with no real role-models at home. But we’re adults now. We’re not those kids on the estate. We’re answerable only to ourselves. We’re not in any relationships. I don’t see why we shouldn’t give it a go. Let the past go and start afresh.”
Helen stared up at him, a sob had formed in her throat and she was unable to answer. His eyes remained on hers, scrutinising the emotions that flicked over her face, like she was transparent to him.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She had given herself one night to enjoy. No more than that. She hadn’t expected Mitch to turn up. And she certainly hadn’t expected to feel this closeness with him. Yeah, he knew her from her past, but he also understood who she was now.
“Helen. I don’t want to freak you out or anything. We’ll take baby steps. But having been in your company for less than twenty-four hours, I can’t not have you in my life. Not again. I’ve missed you. I didn’t grasp how much I missed you until I saw you yesterday in the doorway. In the very short space of time I’ve been here, I have realised that without you, my days will be dark and miserable. You lighten my soul. You surprise me. You excite me. I think you always did. I’m sorry I had to walk away from the estate and leave you there alone. I promise, I’ll never turn my back on you again.”
The vulnerability of his statement, from a man so big and strong, from a man who had, as a child patronised and teased her, made her want to weep. Once spoken, his words resonated with an emotion that sat like a ball in her chest, matching the sentiment that she was feeling, but hadn’t dared acknowledge. This level of defencelessness, to a person who knew her better than she knew herself, scared her. Every what-if question darted through her mind.
“Shh. Helen, we’ll navigate it together. We’ll work it out. It’ll be mutual. You don’t have to have all the answers now.” The muscles in his throat contracted as he spoke. His eyes sparkled with hope as they looked straight through into her soul.
“I want to hear all about the journey you’ve been on to become who you are. And I want to share with you what I did to. And together, as partners, we can make our own path forward. I’m not saying there won’t be obstacles. But, look where we’ve both come from. Who knows where we can go from here? Who would’ve thought that two rascals from a London council estate would have attended a well-heeled wedding reception?”
He gave a gentle shake of his head before wrapping his arms tightly around her naked frame. “We’ve some such a long way. We’re no longer shackled by our teenage selves. We should be proud of ourselves. Proud of each other. I’m certainly proud of you. Proud of how you had the guts to get up and leave the only home you knew and secure a job. Proud of the loyalty you have to your boss for giving you the opportunity. And so proud of how the people you’ve surrounded yourself with respect you. And believe me, they do. It was obvious in every conversation. I want you to be my equal. I want to take you to my rooftop garden and shout to the world that we’re in this together. I want to introduce you to all my business associates. Show you my home. We can work out where we live.”
Helen’s heart burst with happiness. This. Exactly this. What he’d just said was what she wanted too. To partner the man of the boy she had once idolised. Maybe there was a happily ever after somewhere.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and brought her cheek up to lay against his. He bent forward and dropped a butterfly kiss on the arch of her nose before pulling back, his face hovering so close that she could feel his breath fanning her cheek. His voice, unsteady, shook with emotion. “So, what you do you say?”
“Oh Mitch. What can I say? I think I love you. I think I always did.”
“Thank goodness” His searing gaze swept over her face.
“I adore you, my Helen. I will prove to you each and every day why you won’t want to spend your days apart from me. This last day, I have had more sparkle in my life than in the last twelve years.”
THE END
About the Author
Meg MacRose writes her books from a room at the bottom of her garden.
Meg can often be found talking out loud to herself as she discovers her characters and writes her books.
Sometimes when the doors are open, the Australian native birds gather to listen.
Well, actually, that last sentence may not be completely true!
Here are some real facts about Meg:
Lucky enough to be living in a quintessential Australian coastal town, Meg lives with her husband and three young children amongst an enviable garden filled with Australian wildlife.
Meg knew at the age of 12 that she wanted to write steamy contemporary books that had happy endings. She would steal her older sister’s worn-out well read romance books, and using a torch would earnestly read them after lights out. Each book read would take on its own life for many days later as Meg reconstructed and modified the plot, mentally rewriting multiple endings.
You can connect with me on:
https://megmacrose.com
https://facebook.com/MegMacRose
https://amazon.com/author/megmacrose
Also by Meg MacRose
A London Billionaire Romance Series
Book 1: Designs on the Billionaire
Book 2: Decoding the Billionaire
Book 3: Disobeying the Billionaire
Book 4: Defying the Billionaire
Love Is All Around Us Quick Reads
Novella 1: His Wedding Belle
Novella 2: His Christmas Wish