tagRomanceDeep in the Heart of Me Ch. 02

Deep in the Heart of Me Ch. 02


© 2012 Brunne

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Many thanks to the readers who voted and left such lovely comments on Ch. 01 – I hope you enjoy this next instalment.

For those of you have read my other story, ‘Under My Skin’, this story covers many of the same events, but in a slightly different style and from Jarod’s perspective this time.

- Brunne

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

From the moment Jarod woke up he knew he had to stop fucking around and get on with it. Either he got her by herself properly and had a closer look at whatever it was driving him increasingly mad, or he left it alone. For good. Those were the choices. Sending sweaty text messages just wasn’t the answer.

He clicked through the shared calendar function on his email program until he found hers. She hadn’t been at her desk all morning and he was getting desperate to know where she was. Ah. So she was in a meeting for another hour. The calendar entry contained the floor and room number. He would catch her on the way out and say…what? What was his plan? Ask her out for a date? Book a hotel room? Was there nothing anywhere on the spectrum between awkwardly mundane and flat-out sleazy?

He sat back, pushing his fingers through his hair in frustration. Why couldn’t he figure out how to conduct this…thing…with her? He’d nearly called it a relationship, but how could you call what they’d had so far a relationship? That sort of depended on people knowing something about each other. Maybe that’s what he wanted. To know more…to see more clearly. Up until now she’d been a bit of a blank to him. Unless you counted the world of possibility he saw in her big brown eyes.

He’d talk to her. He’d find out more about her…that was the plan.

* * * * *

He must have loitered outside the meeting room for a good ten minutes, stomach churning. They were running late. He couldn’t keep standing around…someone would notice. But there was movement and voices approaching the door, followed by a flood of people leaving the room. He searched the faces, looking for her, wondering where his plan had gone. His mind was suddenly blank.

There she was, hanging back from the rest of the group, busy flipping through the notes she’d been taking. She didn’t even see him as he stepped up next to her and gripped her elbow. He willed her to just go along with him, her eyes meeting his with surprise before dipping down again, colour steadily rising in her cheeks. The next meeting room over was empty and dark, and he wasted no time pushing her through the doorway, closing the door behind them.

He’d just meant to stop her and talk to her, but the shock of her nearness…the softness of her skin under his fingertips, changed all that. The desire to capture her bloomed in an instant and he was snagging her wrists and pushing them up against the meeting room wall before the thought was even fully formed in his mind. She fluttered like a bird against his hold and only with great effort did he stop his body from doing what it clearly wanted to. He squeezed his eyes shut. Focus, Jarod. Say something.

“You still only sent me one,” he managed to gasp in a nearly normal voice. When he opened his eyes, any surprise in her gaze was now replaced by that delightful defiance.

“You didn’t ask for more,” she said with only a faint quiver in her voice, her chin inching a little higher, her lips firmly set.

The flush in her cheeks gave away her excitement, and sent a fresh surge of desire through him. He held himself back from her purposefully, determine that she remain unaware of his current physical…discomfort. He allowed himself to stare down into her eyes for a moment, but had to drag his gaze away when the invitation there became too strong to resist. His eyes dropped unbidden to her lips, but that was even worse, and he forced himself to stare at the wall and take deep breaths.

So why the hell hadn’t he asked for more photos? He thought back to his state of mind the previous night. It was the same precarious edge he was treading right now. “I had to stop myself,” he said, thickly, in way of explanation.

“Stop yourself?” she asked, a mixture of confusion and curiosity flickering over her features. He thought she took a sharp inward breath when he dropped his hand from her wrist and let it drift down to press against her stomach, just up and to the right, along her ribcage. Right over the place he’d tasted her sweet skin. His mind drifted back to the photograph. The one he’d barely been able to tear himself away from.

“It stays longer than I thought,” he mused, finding her eyes. She stared back at him. He knew what it did to him, to see that bruise marking that stolen moment between them. He suddenly wished he could just climb into her thoughts and know what it was she felt.

“You see it every day…” he said, searching her features for some indication of whether it affected her. She nodded, but still didn’t speak.

His thumb swept gently against silky fabric of her blouse, as if it could feel the bruise right through the material. She was so warm under his hand, so soft, and the temptation to slide his grip to her waist and pull her body against his now-throbbing, aching erection was getting much too strong.

He tried again. “Do you like it?” He wasn’t sure what he was referring to. The bruise? His touch? The phone? Did it matter? But still she didn’t speak, only looked back at him with wide eyes, nodding silently.

It was too much, she was too close. The soft scent of her was intoxicating, and it was all he could do not to search out that delicate warm spot on her neck and taste her again. With a ragged breath he pulled himself away from her, stepping back. The logic part of his mind, still on the alert, told him quite sensibly that they could be discovered any moment now. Stumbling upon two people alone in a dark room could only mean one thing.

“This isn’t a good place,” he muttered aloud. How long did they have before they could escape this office and have a proper conversation?

“You’re free after work...” He’d meant it as a question, but it didn’t quite come out that way. He didn’t miss her eyes widening as she grasped what he was asking for.

Taking a deep breath he decided to put it out there. “I’ll be waiting in my car. North corner, third from the end.” Time to be going, said Mr Logic.

She just stared after him as he stepped towards the door, a few rapid blinks still the only answer she’d given him.

Relieved to find the hallway relatively empty, he closed the door behind him softly, willing his body to return to normal.

Would she come? And if she did…what on earth was his plan?

* * * * *

This had been a very bad idea, he decided. He’d been sitting in his car like a complete, fucking idiot for over an hour. He heard the tell-tale click of the basement door and turned in his seat, straining to look around the passenger headrest to see who it was. He sagged back against the leather. It wasn’t anyone he knew.

Why hadn’t he agreed a time? Why hadn’t he waited for her to actually agree in the first place? He rubbed his eyes and checked the time. The numbers glowed out at him from the console. It would be getting dark outside soon. Not that he had any idea where he planned to take her. If she even decided to show.

He checked his phone again. No texts from her either.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He couldn’t wait forever. There was nothing for it. Time to get out of there.

He turned the keys in the ignition, pulling his seatbelt on as he did, checking his rear-view mirror, and froze. Shit. There she was. She was walking up next to the car. Why hadn’t he heard the door? The sudden pounding of his heart drowned out any further questions in his mind. He ducked his head and saw she was approaching the passenger side, so he leaned across and popped the door open from the inside.

She was wearing a narrow skirt, and even though it went down to her knees, it rose a few tantalising inches as she put a hesitant foot into the car and slid into the seat next to him. There were dark smudges of tiredness under the eyes that darted a brief look at him before dropping to look where her hands clasped her knees. Surprise, defiance, he was used to. Nervousness was new. If only she knew how his own hands were trembling.

“You came,” he said, wincing when the words came out sounding choked and not a little surprised. Smooth, real smooth, he thought. He studied her, his hand still on the ignition key. She was wearing her hair up, tied into a loose knot. Those little wispy tendrils still managed to escape and curl along her slender neck, and it took him some moments to tear his eyes away.

She only took a few quick glances at him while she fastened her seat belt, seeming determined to examine the concrete wall in front of the car. And what do you expect, he told himself. You’re staring and making her uncomfortable, idiot. He turned his attention to the car, starting it properly and reversing out of the parking spot. From force of habit he stretched his arm across the passenger headrest as he turned the car and checked his blind spot. Her hair just brushed against his wrist as he did, kicking off sparks through his whole body.

She was just so…close. He could smell her, almost taste her. All he needed to do was reach across the half a foot of space and take her in his arms-…

He blinked hard against the images pouring through his mind and tried to focus on driving the car in a straight line. The curved ramp out of the carpark seemed a lot more difficult to manoeuvre than usual, and he started to wonder if it was very smart for him to be driving with such a distraction taking up his passenger seat.

When he finally got them out into the street in one piece, he allowed himself a glance over at her. She held her hands primly in her lap, her back straight, her knees tight together. He would have given anything to know what she was thinking.

But having a conversation…that wasn’t something he could do while he drove. Not with her. Not when they’d barely spoken. What sort of small talk could they make anyway? ‘So do you let men bite you often?’ or, ‘Would you object if I fucked you tonight?’

He just drove, nearly blindly, his senses under gentle assault from the faint scent of flowers that seemed to follow her everywhere. He desperately wanted to be somewhere private, alone, safe, where he could examine this delicate flower in his own time.

Her shoulders slowly dropped as they drove and she seemed to sense he wasn’t about to do anything threatening. Thank heavens she couldn’t read his mind. But surely, if she was frightened of him she wouldn’t have gotten into his car in the first place?

It wasn’t until the streets steadily narrowed and began to wind in an upwards direction that he realised where his subconscious was taking him. His dark tree-covered spot near the large park. Was this really what he wanted to do? Parking in a dark corner and making out like hormonal teenagers? Bloody hell, it would nice if he just knew his own mind right about now.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she tugged again at the hem of her skirt and held herself stiffly against the seat. Fuck. This wasn’t going to work if she was wound up so tight. His mind raced back over their previous encounters, searching for the clue to the openness she’d given him each time. What was it that triggered it? Him taking control? Taking her control away? Is that what she relaxed into? When he took instead of asked?

He had to shift in his seat as the mental pictures flitted past. Damn it, his dick was hard already, and any blood left in his body had gone back to pounding in his ears. Because that was what he wanted too. That thrill he got when he did the first thing that came into his head. Restraining her, capturing her, breaking past her defences so quick she didn’t have a chance to keep him out.

Seeing a quiet space along the street he pulled the car over to the curb, his pulse quickening at the image that began to form in his mind.

He needed his tie. It wasn’t perfect for what he wanted, but it would do. He tucked a finger into the knot and loosened it with a few tugs, aware that she was watching him intently. He hoped she couldn’t see if his hands shook as he got the knot undone.

He sat, staring down at the dark grey silk, questioning what he really thought he was doing. But he wanted to know more. Wanted to see her open up to him again, and this was the only way. He held it out to her.

“Put it on. Over your eyes.”

What was it that flickered through those brown eyes? Fear, or surprise? But she took the tie from him with little hesitation and slipped it on over her eyes, her small fingers struggling a little with the slippery fabric, but finally getting a knot secured.

He tried to tell himself that the blindfold was just part of the control game…to help her let go. But somewhere in the dark places of his mind he knew he was also protecting himself from a greater danger. It was those eyes of hers. Beckoning him, challenging him, begging him…seeing through him. It was his own control that was under threat.

He had to shake his head at himself and his mad thoughts, but once her hands were settled back in her lap he couldn’t help but reach over and gently test the knot that nestled against the dark silkiness of her hair. But that merely created a whole new temptation. To unwind her hair from where it was pulled back in its knot, to release it and watch it tumble down so he could push his fingers through it and bury his face in its fragrant waves. He’d drag her over and find out how expressive that mouth of hers could be at kissing him-…

He drew his hand back as if he’d been burned. Since when was he fantasising about kissing her? Without her eyes to captivate him, would her mouth be the next thing to do battle with his steadily crumbling control?

He turned what attention he could muster back to the task of driving the car. There was no fighting his subconscious. Resigned, he headed in the direction of his secret parking place in the trees. At least it would be quiet and with darkness beginning to fall, it would be private enough. Private enough for what? he asked himself. He decided he didn’t really want to answer that.

She stayed silent, only moving to hold tighter to the door handle when they went around a steep curve in the road. He noticed when she first felt the road surface change as they slowed towards the shadowed spot between the trees. His memory had served him well; there were no street lights this far along and the only light came from the steadily dimming headlights and pockets of the city off in the distance.

He hit the window switch and took a deep cleansing breath of cool night air. It helped to clear his senses a little. Being so close to her was like being on a drug. It muddied his thinking. Like this whole scenario. At what point had this ever been a good idea? One glance over at the passenger seat told him that even with the blindfold she was strung as tight as a bow, jumping with every little sound and movement.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes. Hell. Bloody, fucking hell.

“I can take you back,” he said, grudgingly. He wished he meant it.

But she shook her head, quickly, without hesitation. Then she reached up to the knotted tie, and he felt an irrational surge of panic. His hand shot out and caught her wrist before she could touch it.

“Leave it,” he growled, more intensity than he’d intended.

“I wasn’t-“ she said in gentle protest.

He knew his tone was too harsh, and he loosened his grip marginally before letting her go. She didn’t reach for the blindfold again.

He shifted himself in his seat, the feel of her skin against his fingers setting his erection off into something bordering on painful. There was a perfectly good reason why he’d headed for this particularly location. There wasn’t nearly enough room in the car to lay the girl down and fuck her brains out. Good move, Jarod. Now you’re stuck with the awkward scenario of a raging hard-on, a blindfolded girl and a public park. Fuck.

This was certainly no time to be crossing that line, he told himself firmly. The truth was, he did actually want to know more about her. To just talk to her, damn it. If he could only get his bodily reactions in check…

She was sitting very still, blindly staring out the front windscreen, shoulders lightly hunched, tense. She was waiting for what would happen next. He wondered what she was expecting. He wondered what she’d think if she knew even he hadn’t a clue what came next.

“Face me,” he said, keeping his voice low and as reassuring as he could manage. He was secretly pleased at how steady he sounded, belying the current state of his insides.

She turned awkwardly in the seat in her blindness, her hands reaching out tentatively for something to brace herself on, her knees making painful contact with the gearshift console between the seats. He reached out to guide her closest leg up onto the seat where it would be more comfortable, hooking his fingers behind her knee. For some seconds he was lost in the feel of her bare skin. Fuck, she wasn’t even wearing sheer tights. The skin behind her knee was so warm…smooth as satin. His fingers begged to slide up, up to her thigh and under that infuriating hemline to-…

With a shuddering breath he pulled his hand back. Talk. That’s all they all they were going to do, right? Talk.

“Just lean back,” he instructed, willing her to work with him. Desperate for her to just relax. Just a little.

The moment her back found the padded side of the seat and slumped gratefully against its support, he breathed a silent breath of relief. His eyes drifted lazily down from her slightly parted lips to the buttons on her white blouse. They were straining from the arch of her back against the seat, and he caught a glimpse of white lace. He had to stifle a groan when he finally allowed himself to check on the state of that hemline. Pulling her knee up onto the seat had only made matters worse, and even in the darkness of the car he could make out a flash of white underwear.

He turned his head towards the open window, taking a few gulping breaths of night air, the darkness that surrounded them slowly sinking in. His hands twitched together in his lap. He wanted so much to touch…

But he’d promised himself. They would just talk. About what? Something…personal? The words were out before he realised he’d even thought them.

“Do you touch yourself?”

Fuck! What sort of thing was that to ask? He dug his thumb and fingers into his eyelids, keenly aware of the total silence from the passenger seat.

Her voice was quiet and breathy, but she answered. “Sometimes…”

He drew in a deep breath. Sometimes, huh? He didn’t quite know how he knew, but he could hear the lie. The devil rose in him, and there was no looking back.

He grabbed her wrist and he twisted it just far enough to cause her to flinch a little. “Just sometimes?” he growled into her ear. This was the only way with her. The only way with him. Pushing through the defences. Storming the fucking gates. “Tell me the truth…”

“Okay. Most days…” she cried out quickly, her voice high with strain.

Most days. Fuck. The heat that had been just creeping through him turned into a tsunami as he imagined her, naked, hands between her legs-…

He was holding her too tight. He could feel her tugging against where he held her. He wrestled himself back to the present and forced himself to loosen his grip a little, his mind still racing. If it was most days, then…

“Have you ever…at work?” he asked, swallowing, his voice sounding thick to his ears. He watched her mouth, her lips moving slightly as she tried to make up her mind what to say. He twisted her wrist a little more to encourage the truth.

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byBrunne© 11 comments/ 33340 views/ 19 favorites

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