Deep in the Heart of Me

© 2012 Brunne

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Many thanks to the many readers who voted and left such lovely comments on the chapters so far -- I hope you enjoy this one too. Apologies for the longer wait this time!

For those of you have read my other story, 'Under My Skin', this is Jarod's side of the story (best to start from Ch 01).

- Brunne

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She was in his arms. Clutched against his chest, trembling. The threads of rational thought slowly wound their way through his mind. They gently surfaced as his breathing slowed to normal and he felt gravity take its normal hold. He wondered how it could be. How he could have gone this long...his whole life. So long and not known or understood how it was supposed to be.

What had been a dark, winding maze, was now a wide-open space with a huge sky and no horizon. He tried to blink, eyes stinging from an emotion he could barely place.

She'd opened up a whole world to him. He didn't think she even knew what she'd done. Hurtling down that track of madness, headlong, he'd finally uncovered the missing piece of himself. Her total acceptance, her unconditional giving.

The door was open...the wide-open space beckoned. Like a man set free from a prison he considered all the things he ached to do.

He would start from the top, and work down, he decided. He could finally give himself permission to discover the soft giving warmth pressed along the length of his body. He breathed her in. Flowers, sweat, her.

Careful not to disturb her, he lifted a hand and touched the heavy silk of her hair, running it slowly through his fingers. Why had he kept himself from such simple pleasures as this? How could he have thought it a danger?

His fingers encountered the knot of actual silk at the back of her head. She still had that damned blindfold on. Shit. With a gentle tug he slipped it up over her head and off. He stared, mesmerised by the soft, dark lashes that drifted against her flushed cheeks.

"It's okay...you can open your eyes," he said quietly.

Then she blinked, as if waking, and it was a little like watching a butterfly unfurl its wings for the first time, fluttering, hesitant, unsure.

Everything that had gone before disappeared and it was as if he saw her for the first time. Those deep brown eyes. So open, so beautiful. He could tell she was studying him, though shyly, tentative. Scanning his face for clues about what had just happened between them. But he couldn't think, he could only stare back, transfixed.

He'd known, really, since he first saw her. This one was different. This one was his. He drew in a deep breath at the thought and became increasingly conscious of her naked body pressed against his. He still throbbed where she'd made love to him with her lips and tongue. His gaze drifted down from her eyes to her gently parted lips.

She seemed to panic a little, her hand darting up to cover her mouth, her eyes lowering...in embarrassment? Why? Because she'd just had that same mouth on his cock? And that tongue...god. His breath quickened.

He reached for her hand and tugged it away. "You're fine," he murmured, his eyes flicking up to her uncertain ones before returning his focus to her lips and what it was he really wanted.

"I want to kiss you," he said, breathless.

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him. He'd bitten her, stripped her naked and fucked her, but never kissed her. Right now he couldn't care less about the oddness of their progression, and an inexplicable surge of excitement filled him as he tilted her chin up and brushed his lips against hers for the first time. Soft...they were so soft.

From the first instant it wasn't enough. The barest of tastes and he needed more, much more. He pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue seeking out hers in darting strokes. He thought he'd already found the missing piece, but this...this was a whole new thing he hadn't even known he was without.

This was the true madness. Sinking into deep, tropically warm waters, feeling the tugging of an incoming wave and being lifted with it, riding it, the excitement just building and frothing and crashing, spilling effortlessly out into calm shallows. Then the same madness, pulling at you, drawing you back into the deep again for it to happen all over again. This wasn't kissing. This was a drug, an electric sea, and he was more than willing to drown himself in it, his fingers tangled in the silkiness of her hair.

Her lips were so soft, soft and yielding...welcoming, but not passive...fuck no. She drank as deep of him as he did of her, her tongue flicking out to meet his and explore and search.

With each lull, resting, breathing hard, he brushed soft kisses along her cheeks, her nose, her chin. Allowing himself access to everything he'd denied himself before. Then the wave would catch them back up, and the devouring, hungry need would be back, driving them, limbs tangling, tongues delving, even higher and even hungrier for more. Nothing in his whole life had prepared him for this.

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Time passed...hours possibly, and he was starting to wonder if he would ever tire of the feel of her lips. The waves just kept coming, and he didn't stop himself diving in for more the instant she responded to him. The silky feel of her bare skin against his kept him in a low thrum of excitement despite the fact he'd so recently come. It was a different sort of arousal than he'd felt before. Warm, luxurious, breath-stealing. He wanted her, again. Not just yet, but he wanted her.

Despite his best efforts to drown himself in the softness of her, the thoughts slowly started to surface. Unwanted, unasked-for thoughts. The exhilaration of discovery, the deep in-breath of freedom...they lingered at the edges of his mind. But the questions were steadily pressing in, forcing out the light.

As if sensing his growing detachment, she dragged her lips away from his, leaning back, putting a little space between their bodies. He tried to concentrate on the smooth warmth of her legs still entwined between his and not the question in her face. He watched as she slowly scanned the room.

"Where-?"

"My room," he said, frowning as her eyes widened in surprise.

"Yours?" She looked around again with renewed interest, though he still didn't like the incredulity in her voice. Where had she though he'd brought her? Did he even want to know?

Her eyes came back to his, but now they were shuttered and unreadable. Here we go, he thought. This was the part where it all came to pieces and turned out to be what it was...a dream. The light receded and the lovers became strangers again.

He felt himself drawing back, detaching, retreating from her as he watched her examine her surroundings, avoiding his gaze. She stroked absently at the fresh sheets he'd so painstakingly fitted.

"Do you bring all your blindfolded girls in here?" she asked.

Did he-...all his what? He felt the question like a sharp blow to the solar plexus. Saw the instant regret in her eyes. There. There it was. All the revelation, all the release, vanished in a moment as the ephemeral things they were. This, this was the truth of it, and he knew that it was him, and him alone to blame for it.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed, unable to escape the flood of hopelessness that engulfed him.

"Get up," he said to her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I said get up!"

Where were his trousers? Shit. He just needed to get out. To get away from the suffocation of disappointment that seemed to fill the room and claw its way up his throat.

He grabbed his trousers from where he'd left them on top of the laundry hamper and pulled them on, his back firmly towards her as he buttoned them.

He escaped out into the hallway, his head full of thoughts all jostling for position. All his blindfolded girls, huh? Her little question had been incredibly revealing. He'd always wondered what his reputation was like at the office, but that pretty much answered it.

Why... why could the past not stay the past? Why did it have to creep in and fuck with the present? He stopped at the front entranceway. All her things lay in a forlorn puddle on the floor, including those lace panties he'd dreamed so often of removing from her body. He stooped and gathered her clothing into a bundle, restraining himself from rubbing the delicate fabric between his fingers. As soon as he bunched them together in his hands her scent surrounded him, leaving his chest tight.

He didn't really know what was going on anymore. His entire equilibrium lay in tatters, his head a total mess. He closed his eyes and just concentrated on breathing. They'd sort this thing out. They'd talk and they'd figure out what they both wanted. Then he could explain...tell her that it was different for him. This time was different. Completely and utterly unlike anything he'd ever thought possible.

Steeling himself he padded back down the hallway to the bedroom. She was standing, naked, pretty much where he'd left her, eyes dark and pleading. Even the million buzzing thoughts swirling through his mind didn't keep him from taking in a sharp breath. So goddamn beautiful.

"Jarod, I-"

"Get dressed," he said stiffly, ignoring her plea. Maybe if she put some clothes on he could actually think straight for a minute. Not trusting himself, he forced himself to toss the bundle onto the bed, turn right around and leave the room.

He paced the length of the living room, only stopping to raise the blinds, staring out blindly over the glimmering city. How could he explain it to her? They'd barely talked about anything let alone relationships or

feelings

. Of course that was assuming he even knew what his feelings were. Should he just pour it out to her, or would that just scare her away even more?

Another thought caught up with him and started a sick churning in his stomach. If she thought he was just the office playboy with strings of women, was this just some kinky fling for her? Did she even give a damn as long as she had her fun? He pressed his hands against his eyes. Fuck. But she'd said she cared. She most definitely did, he remembered that much. And he hadn't been imagining things...when she'd had her mouth on him...the way she'd touched him, her trembling afterwards. Surely that had been more than just some sort of game to her?

God, he was thirsty. He stalked into the kitchen, banging distractedly through the cupboards until he found a glass. He stood, staring at the running water, waiting for it to run cold, lost in thought.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered a sound out in the hallway. Was she finally dressed? He took a gulp of water to calm his nerves before walking back through the doorway into the living room. He looked down the hallway towards the bedroom, but didn't see her. He didn't hear her moving around either. Maybe she'd gone to the bathroom. He set his glass down on the side table and stepped towards the front entryway, staring dumbly at the floor. Something was wrong. Her shoes and handbag were gone. The entryway was empty. Hadn't he left them there on the floor? He held his breath, ears straining. Nothing. Something did a sickening tilt in his stomach.

In the next instant he was striding into the bedroom, scanning the room for any sign of her. All her things were gone. He lurched across the hall to the bathroom, the door slamming dully into the wall as he stared at the empty room. She was gone.

No...no no. Why did she leave? What the fuck was she thinking? His building was new, but this wasn't a great neighbourhood. And what time was it...late. Very late. Fucking silly little bitch! What had she done?

He was out the front door in the next breath, pausing on the threshold only long enough to put the door on the latch. He practically ran down the hallway, his bare feet pounding silently on the carpet. It was like that old nightmare. Always running, down hallways, through corridors, never finding her.

He turned the corner that took him towards the lifts and instantly slowed, gulping in air in sheer relief to see her standing there, waiting. She was watching the light above the lift, arms hugged tight around her, her hair still tousled from his fingers, her blouse wrinkled from where it had lain on the floor. She looked utterly vulnerable and it only made him angrier.

He covered the short distance between them in several swift strides, reaching for her arm and twisting her to face him. He didn't care if he was being too rough. She was being stupid and dangerous...

"What the

fuck

do you think you're doing?" He stared down at her, watched her jerk back from him, from his words. Confused, he stared at his own reflection in the sunglasses she was wearing. Why-?

He marched her a step backwards and pressed her to the pillar between the two lifts, grabbing her upper arms and shaking her.

"Did I ask you to leave?

Did I?

" he hissed. What was she playing at? And why was she wearing those fucking sunglasses in the middle of the night? His grip tightened as she raised her chin in that defiant way of hers, and he didn't even think. He plucked the sunglasses off her face and tossed them onto the floor. If she was going to run away she should at least look him in the eye and tell him why, damn it. But one look at her stopped him dead. Tears streaked her cheeks, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Oh hell.

He kept her pressed there, unable to think, his mind a blank. Some part of him acknowledged the faint ding of the lift arriving, the scrape of the elevator doors sweeping open. A glance told him it was empty, thank god. The doors slid closed again with a metallic clunk and it whirred off to another floor. He had to get her out of the corridor. Now.

She stumbled a little as he dragged her down the hallway back to the flat. He didn't care. He just needed her indoors, safe, contained. Fucking stupid girl...didn't she know the first thing about living in a city? It had to be nearly midnight and she was wandering around half dressed and half asleep. He pushed his front door open and shoved her inside unceremoniously, letting it slam shut behind them. She took a few steps forward until she stood nearly where she had when she first arrived, and just stopped.

He had to brace himself against the door, waiting for his breath to come back. This was not how he'd imagined this conversation going. Had no idea what had gotten into her pretty little head to send her off on a wander in a completely unknown part the city. He pushed off from the door and walked past her, his limbs full of a deep weariness. He slumped into his reading chair, defeated. When he swivelled to look at her, she was still standing in the same place. Her eyes were closed. It was as if she didn't even know how to look at him.

He turned in his chair to stare out into the darkness of the skyline, and waited. Minutes passed, and he didn't hear a move or a sound. The hall light illuminated her, casting her reflection onto the inside of the high windows as if she were some sort of ghost...an apparition.

"I-" she said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and spoke again. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have left..."

He tried. He really tried to contain the rage that fought to overflow. Did she have any idea...any clue the panic he felt when he found her gone? He was up and out of the chair and pacing the floor, his words just erupting out of his chest. "You're sorry? You're fucking

sorry?

So that makes it all right then?"

I'm sorry Jarod..." she repeated, plaintively. As if using his name would placate him.

Images of all the horrific things that could have happened to her kept rolling through his mind, unbidden. "And where did you think you'd go? Just go out in the dark and walk home?"

"I was going to get a cab," she said softly.

At this time of night? The cabs didn't dare come down some of the nearby streets during the day let alone this time of night. "You don't even know where you are," he retorted. "There aren't any cabs for miles, or buses for that matter."

"Well, I didn't know that," she said, defensively.

"And you certainly didn't ask!"

"I told you...I'm sorry, okay?"

He paced some more, getting closer to her with each circuit. Why couldn't she understand what she'd been about to do? He'd brought her here. He was responsible for her, entirely responsible. But as he stepped closer he knew that wasn't the only reason he was so angry. She hadn't just left. She'd left

him

. Walked out without a word. Walked out and left him with a gaping, painful hole in his chest.

"Why? Why did you leave?" He stopped right in front of her. Her, with her damned eyes tightly shut. Trying to keep him out. He knew what she was doing.

"You told me to get dressed, and you seemed angry...I thought you wanted me to leave," she said miserably.

He stared at her, looked down at the small hands she held in defiant fists at her sides. Oh no...hell no. He was not going to be made into the bad guy here. It seemed that there was only one way to get through to her.

He put his hand to her upper chest, his fingers loosely circling her throat, and pushed her backwards into the wall.

"You promised. Not.To lie."

"I'm not, I swear!" Her eyelids flickered, but she still refused to look at him.

"Liar!" He knew it wasn't the whole of it. He moved his grip to her arms and pressed her into the wall more firmly. He would have an answer.

"I felt...I don't know. Rejected. I said something stupid and you were so angry with me and I just wanted to escape, okay?" She dropped her head low, her voice wobbly with tears. "I thought you didn't...didn't want me."

Didn't want her? Didn't want her? Had he been so unclear? Had the fact that he'd spent hours kissing and holding her completely escaped her notice?

"Did I say I was angry at you? Did I?" he said, shaking her gently, his voice rough.

"No...no..." she said, the tears that had threatened finally rolling down her cheeks..

She would never understand if she didn't look at him. If she just kept shutting him out. "Open your eyes..." he said, voice low. When she didn't, he shook her again. "Now!"

Her eyes opening to his had a most physical effect on him, tightening his chest, constricting his breathing. She went completely still under his hands and he loosened his grip. He couldn't read what was going on in her mind, though he thought she looked as stunned as he felt. He needed to explain...needed her to understand. Staring down into those warm brown depths muddled his thinking, and he had to look away just so he could speak.

"I don't have...

girls

...up here. Blindfolded or otherwise. Okay?" His eyes returned to her dangerous gaze, determined she see that he was telling her the truth. "I haven't been with anyone...for...years."

Her eyes drew him in, her mouth...so close.

He tore himself away with some difficulty, pacing back into the living room, as if the act of walking in circles could somehow help him drag a coherent explanation from the confused depths of his head.

"It's my fault...I guess I can't blame you," he said, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. What else could he say? They were in a mess, and it was him that had gotten them there. He paced some more.

"This whole thing started out wrong, right from that first day in the office. I started us out all wrong. But what did you want me to do?"

He turned to face her, beseeching, but not expecting an answer. She just clung to the wall, her eyes never leaving him. It unnerved him.

"You just sat there...at your computer every damned day, your big eyes following me every time I walked down the office. And smelled...like flowers. And your mouth-" he stepped closer, reaching out his fingers to her lips, but dropped his hand to his side without touching her. He knew he sounded like a fool, but now that he'd started, the words just poured out of him.