Page 44 of Love At First Fright
Rosemary ran the bath, and the hot steam began loosening her tight muscles even before she got in. She piled her wet clothes on the floor, hissing as she climbed into the water.
Ellis’s words played over and over in her mind. He’d instructed her to take care of herself, helped her when she’d needed it. It was everything she desired; that escape from her loud brain. How long had it been since she’d just been able to let go with someone? People Rosemary slept with tended to expect a certain dominance from her, she expected it was all the tattoos that gave them that idea, and so she’d always felt a little out of sorts after sex when it was clear neither of them was fully satisfied with her performance.
She felt desire slicking her, a deep emptiness in her core aching to be filled and filled again. To be used, praised, taken care of. To have someone see to her pleasure and to use her for their own. Could Ellis be that person? Could he…want her? Downstairs, the way he’d held her down, looked at her, had felt like Something. Something that you wouldn’t do with a colleague or a friend. Rosemary’s hand crested over her clit, circling it with her fingers. She was already so wet, so sensitive. What if Ellis had followed her upstairs, had come into the bath with her? She’d done as he told her; she’d gotten in the bath and made her skin nice and pink for him.
He’d praise her for it. He’d cup her chin and call her his good girl. He’d reward her with his hands and fuck her with his tongue first. If she was lucky, Ellis would push her down to her knees. Fuck, Rosemary craved the submission that came with the sting of the ground on her knees, her eyes weeping as she licked up and down Ellis’s cock. Then he’d fuck her, hard and fast and mercilessly. Just as she wanted. Her brain would go quiet. He’d get her there. Rosemary came, head tipped back, moaning.
She felt…a little better for doing that. Not as riled up. Definitely warmer. Only now she had to go and face Ellis in the kitchen, knowing she had just come at the thought of him fucking her. Only when she went downstairs, Ellis wasn’t there.
16
Ellis was pissed the fuckoff. He’d sent Rosemary up to have a bath, and she’d beenso good, so perfect.And then while she was up there, doing just what he’d told her to do, taking care of herself, he’d fussed over biscuits and made them tea.
She had been shivering so much, her bottom lip pale and tinged blue, and his brain had turned primitive—all Ellis had been able to think wasget her warm.
Only, while Rosemary was still in the bath, Ellis had been called back to set for an impromptu meeting with Jeremy. Some more studio bullshit, no doubt. And so Ellis had to leave her cup of tea, definitely cold now, and didn’t get to see the way her skin was all flushed and pink from the bath. He certainly hadn’t pictured what colour her nipples would be from the heat, or how they might feel against his tongue.
The meeting might have only lasted four hours, but to Ellis it had felt interminable. The second Jeremy stood to leave Ellis was out of the door, not caring how rude that made him seem. All he could see was Rosemary: her plump backside as she’d bent into the window, the way her lips had parted when he’dsaid her name. And Christ, the feeling of her underneath him. He all but ran back to the Gatehouse, showering and changing at lightning speed. He thought of a million ways of apologizing to Rosemary for earlier but when he eventually found her, sitting by the fire in the living room, typing on her laptop, all he managed was:
“If you’re writing I can come back later.”
“Ellis, hi,” she breathed, and something inside him lit up. She didn’t seem upset. Ellis ran his eyes over her; that peachy blush was back in her cheeks, her lips were no longer tinged blue. Good.
“The biscuits,” he blurted out.Smooth, Ellis.“I mean, did you find the biscuits in the kitchen. And the tea?”
“Oh.” Rosemary smiled. “I did, thank you.”
Ellis hovered in the doorway. “You were writing?” He asked. Since when was he this awkward around people he liked?
“I was drafting, yeah. But I think I’m done for the night. I know I need to stay up for the night shoots tomorrow night, but my brain already feels like mush.”
“Night shoots and turnaround days will do that to you. It’s like jet lag.” He sat down in the chair opposite her. He’d taken Fig on her evening walk, and the dog was so tired from all the excitement of chasing pigeons that she was already asleep upstairs.
“Did the bath help earlier?” he asked. “To warm you up, I mean.”
“It did,” she said, and when Ellis held her gaze, the desire he felt was echoed back at him in Rosemary’s eyes.
“That’s good.” God, she made him nervous. “And how is the writing going?”
“Better. I still haven’t had the courage to let my editorsknow it’s going to be late, but I’m actually writing again. And it’s not trash.”
He let out a dry chuckle. “I find it hard to believe anything you write would be trash.”
“You’re flattering me.”
Ellis leant forwards. “You deserve to hear how good you are, Rosemary. You deserve to be praised.” He let himself linger on those words, to let her know exactly what he meant.
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed a perfect peach as she pushed her glasses back up her nose. Rosemary rolled up her sleeves; the heat must be getting to her. Lord knows it was getting to him.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, why are all your tattoos night-blooming flowers?” Ellis asked.
“How did you…? How did you know?”
“I grow a few in my greenhouse.”
Rosemary tilted her face, as if she was looking at him in a new light. Then she traced a finger from the inner side of her wrist, up her forearm, to the inner side of her elbow. Ellis thought he might have just developed a new kink.
“This is evening primrose, and from my elbow it changes into two plants, tuberose and moonflowers. My parents own a flower farm, back home in Georgia. Night blooms were my mama’s specialty. Some of my favourite memories were with her in the greenhouse after sunset, watching the flowers bloom. The tattoos, they’re my way of staying close to her, now she’s gone.”
