My wrists itched. They weren’t sore, but sleeping in restraints made my skin a little bratty the morning after, which was fitting, I suppose. They just needed a little moisturiser, and they’d be fine, but my moisturiser was in my bag, in the living room and completely inaccessible to somebody who was unable to move more than a few feet.
“Good morning.” I felt exposed. I wasn’t dressed. I wasn’t showered. I had no make up or perfume on. My wrists itched and my lips felt dry. Not one part of my morning routine had been completed, primarily because I was tied to the bed by my irritated wrists. He didn’t seem to mind, though. “Good morning.” He repeated. I got the feeling I should definitely answer.
“Hi.” He smiled as I replied. Sitting up and leaning across to the window sill, he returned a moment later with my lip gloss. Our eyes locked as he unscrewed the top and swept the gloss covered wand across my lips, in a gentle, hypnotic motion, as if he had read my mind.
He didn’t speak, as he stood from the bed, kissing my forehead and then disappearing out of the bedroom. I sank back into the pillows, waiting for his return, wondering what he thought of me, first thing in the morning, when I hadn’t had a chance to become beautiful for him. I felt exposed, but his tender treatment of me left me with a warm flicker of confidence that grew brighter as he returned, my moisturiser in his hands. Again, he had read my mind.
There was a flurry of kisses as he released my cuffs. “Stay still.” His hoarse whisper was just the right mixture of soothing and sensual, and I lay, still, beneath him, staring into his soft, beautiful eyes as he rubbed my wrists gently, until they too felt soothed.
Then, we kissed. Slow and sweet, at first, but then his hands were across my reinvigorated wrists, holding me to the bed as his kiss became more passionate, possessive and I could do nothing but surrender and belong to him. My body was electric, warm and waiting desperately for more, but more would have to wait. His kisses became softer again, and then slowed to a stop. It was just the beginning of the day, and I had a lot more work to do to earn something more. Admittedly, I was disappointed, but the way he lingered ever so slightly before pulling away showed he was a little disappointed too, and that was delicious.
He laid down next to me, holding me tightly in his arms, another soft kiss on my forehead, and for a moment, I felt like it didn’t matter so much that I didn’t look picture perfect, or even all that pretty, first thing in the morning, because the way that he held me let me know that he was quite satisfied with all that I was in that moment. Just like Mark Darcy and my personal heroine Bridget Jones, he liked me just the way that I was, and the feeling was definitely mutual.