A young woman struggles in the modern world when she has to finish university, handle life and take care of her six-year-old son. It certainly doesn't help her situation when she's got things barely figured out. Madilyn Adair is known for being driv...
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/ dedicated to northwards who not only made the cover up above but is a lovely friend /
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My reflection of myself tonight was stunning. The soft hues of blue against my fair complexion looked appealing to the eye. The dress reached an inch below my knee. It was tight around the waist and it flared downwards. The bodice was a lighter shade than the bottom half, adorned with small white beads. I ran my finger over the beads, feeling my heart thrumming to a familiar song. I hadn't worn this dress in a long time and it surprised me that it still fit. It was a little tighter around the waist, and the zip was refusing to close now, but other than that it looked the same as it had seven years ago.
"Want me to help with that?" came a deep voice and I felt a chill run down my spine with the softness of his voice.
"Yes, please," I whispered back and I was certain he heard me even though he was a few metres away from me. My eyes lifted and met his in the mirror, keeping my gaze locked onto his as he closed the distance between us and skimmed his fingertips over the base of my neck, brushing away the hair that stood in the way.
His hand lowered down to the zip, and I felt his finger graze my skin, a hot desire rolled around in my stomach but the urge to cry hit me square in the chest at the same time and I wasn't sure what it was that I was feeling. The zip moved up in a slow pace and once it reached the top, his fingers grazed the nape of my neck and I involuntarily sighed, tilting my head to the side. My eyelids lowered and eventually closed. I marvelled in the familiar feel of his fingertips dancing leisurely on my neck.
"Madilyn," he whispered, his hot breath fanning the nape of my neck and causing a chill to slither down my spine and bring me back from the temporary fantasy his touch had put me in.
I opened my eyes and met his blue ones in the mirror. "Finn," I whispered back.
"You look beautiful tonight," he said, his deep voice hoarse.
"Thank you," I murmured but I knew he heard it just like I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking about what I was thinking—the last time I wore this dress; that rather exciting impulsive night.
"I should go," he said, his voice low and brushing against the back of my neck.
He didn't step away until I said thickly, hating that my voice was laced with heavy emotion, "You should. Bruce will be coming out of the bathroom any second. And you need to get dressed... The guests will be arriving soon."
