The Lady in My Life : MJ imagines

Polaroid

2006.

You tossed your towel aside and applied body lotion all over your body, the sweet scent invading your nostrils. Then you put on the baby pink see-through slip dress Michael offered you, your matching pink lacy set underwear visible underneath. You slipped your pink silky stockings on before standing up and contemplating yourself in your floor-length mirror.

It fitted you perfectly, right down to the lingerie, and sporting your new tan—from your last holidays with him—you had to admit that you looked damn good. It certainly was nothing like anything you had ever worn before meeting him, and while you started that relationship self-conscious, it ended up making you feel confident and powerful.

You were spraying his favorite fragrance on your neck when you heard your doorbell ring, you rushed to the door. You swung it open, his tantalizing smell wafting over you, and your heart started to pitter patter in your chest because he was so handsome in his business attire.

You pulled him into your apartment quickly with his suitcase, trying to avoid any possible prying eyes, shutting the door quietly. His eyes travelled over your body approvingly, his gaze inhabiting flames within you wherever they lingered.

"I knew you'd be beautiful in this baby. With the tan and all," he said, smiling coyly, running a finger down your bare arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

Words got lost in your throat because all you knew was that you needed him. So instead of words, you grasped his face and kissed him as if your life depended on it for the first time in weeks. You sensed his surprise at your boldness in the way he tensed at first, but it took only a second before his arms wrapped around you, and those soft, pliant lips opened to yours.

But the butterflies fluttering in your stomach now were different than the heat you had experienced when kissing him before and that surprised you. Scared you, even, because the heat and the sex made a certain sense. It was biological, natural to be drawn to him. Everyone was drawn to him. What you had already shared physically, what he was teaching you about pleasure, was addicting—you wanted more. As much as you wanted to push it away or deny it.

You pulled back from him slowly, his lips chasing yours with another gentle kiss. You eyes raised, meeting the deep brown of his, and you were caught there, drowning into them.

"Well, hello to you too," he smirked, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your cheek, caressing it.

"Hi," you breathed out. "I just missed you," it fell out of your mouth so naturally, you saw him two weeks ago, and despite your multiple calls, it felt like a lifetime.

This pleased him as his lips turned into a genuine smile. "I missed you too," he replied, giving you another kiss.

This invoked your own smile, a shy one. Your stomach continued to flutter like a schoolgirl's.

You pulled him into your bedroom, your hands small in his, the light was much dimmer in here and it was silent, save for the sound of his suitcase's wheels rolling on the parquet.

"How was your trip?" you asked, sitting on your calves onto the mattress, watching him unpacking probably seeking for his pajamas.

"Oh, you know, same old, same old. After all this time traveling the country I still hate flying," he huffed, he folded his suit jacket in half and laid it on the chair of your dressing table, then unbuttoned his shirt and threw it to the side before removing his white V-neck.

Michael unzipped his slacks, and it pooled around his feet, you bit your bottom lip at the sight of his pale slender legs. He stepped out of them, also kicking off his leather boots, before putting the bottom of his satiny baby blue pajamas set, which somehow, even though they were sleepwear, still flattered him.