Clear and Bright: Chapter Eight: I Know

Once I had recovered, and given my humble stamp of approval on his office artwork, Jaimin walked me back to the gallery. I could have braved the short walk alone, of course, but the idea of his gentlemanly escort was too appealing for me to refuse him. As if I had a choice.

It was merely an hour later that he was back, requesting my company for the evening.

"Don't you have a restaurant to run?" I asked him.

"They can manage without me."

"On a Friday night?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

I can't tell if he's joking, or if I'm on my way to hurting his feelings. "No. It was merely a question. I expect it's a busy time, is it not?"

"Yes. We're booked, but I have a competent staff. They've been trained well, I assure you."

"No concerns?"

"None. Except for their lack of loyalty, perhaps."

I can't help but laugh, "I find them quite loyal."

He gives an exasperated sigh, "I'm sure you do. I can't say that I blame them, I suppose. You are rather irresistible."

I answer with a flutter of my lashes.


"Adorable," he says with a laugh, "So? You haven't answered my question. Can I take you home with me?"

"I haven't been home in two days."

"You went home this morning."

"To shower and change. Then I left again."

"If you want to say no, Claire, say no. You don't have to make up excuses."

Oh crap. Vulnerable. "I wasn't doing that. You're not tired of my face yet?"

I realize my mistake as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I try to fix something and end up making it worse. His face is a stone... a beautiful stone with black daggers for eyes. I rush over to him, and look up at him as sweetly as I can. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You want to take me home with you?"

His hands move instantly to my face, "Yes, I do. And I could never get tired of your face, clearly. Your mouth, on the other hand, could be put to better use."

I pout at him and he smiles. Oh, thank God.

"Do you have anything important you need to do at home?"

"No, not really. I've just never gone so long without picking up a brush. It feels strange."

He brushes his thumb across my cheek, then releases my face, and takes a step away. "I see. Well, I don't want to keep you from something you love. I just wanted to be near you. I didn't mean to push."

Mr. Vulnerable is breaking my heart. "I'd ask you to come home with me, but we'd surely starve."

"I assure you, that would never happen. You have a completely smitten chef at your disposal, more than willing to indulge your every want. You have a stove, don't you? Please tell me you don't have some little hotplate set up on your counter?"

"Actually, I have a fabulous kitchen. I think you'd be impressed. I'm afraid it's wasted on me. My abilities are limited."

"Come home with me," he says with pleading eyes.

It's really not a question. I suppose painting could wait. What's one more day? "Okay. I would like to go home, though. If a quiet, relaxing evening is what you're proposing, I'd like to change."

"We could go out if you'd rather? Anything you want, as long as I get to spend time with you."

I know his offer is sincere, but I can see it in his face that it isn't really what he wants. It's not what I want, either. "No. Quiet sounds nice."

His smile melts me. "Can I come with you, and inspect your fabulous kitchen while you change?"

"Yes, that would actually be wonderful. I didn't drive today, you could save me from my new boots. They hate me. I don't have much love for them either, at the moment." If only they were as comfortable as they are fabulous. And expensive... ugh.

"It would be my pleasure. It's nice to hear you want to be saved from something other than me," he says with another mush-inducing wink.

He is absolutely aware of what that does to me. Evil man.

"So adorable," he says with a cocky grin.

I roll my eyes at him.

"So, how soon until you're free? I'm ready whenever you are."

I hear Nadine from somewhere behind us, I didn't know she'd come in. "I won't hold her hostage anymore. As long as I get her back on Monday, you can have her now."

I pretend to be outraged, "Geez, why don't we just auction me off? Highest bidder wins. Who wants to start?"

Jaimin doesn't hesitate. Mr. Arrogant is back. "There's no point. I'd win."

Nadine is quick to stake her claim, "Don't be so sure, pretty boy. She is invaluable to me. I hope your pockets are deep."

"Very deep." Then, as he's just registered her words, "Pretty boy?"

"That's what I said."

I don't think Nadine is really up for this, he'll eat her alive. I decide to interject before either of them can say another word, "As entertaining as this is, my feet hurt. So, unless someone's going to get me a pillow to rest them on, a comfortable chair and some popcorn for the show...?"

"You haven't had the last word, Nadine, I assure you, but I'm not so arrogant that I would allow Claire to continue in discomfort while I put you in your place." Turning to me, he ignores Nadine's cackling and adds "Stay here while I get my truck, I'll be right back to get you."

"Is he always that cocky?" Nadine asks with a roll of her eyes.

"It comes and goes."

"You know I only let him get away with that last remark because he was ultimately concerned for you. I've never had a man give a damn if my feet hurt. God, that's sweet."

"You like him."

"I do, Claire. I really do."

She follows me as I go to grab my jacket and bag. I smile over my shoulder at her, "Good."

"Charming arrogance aside, he wants to take care of you. Let him." Her words are full of meaning. She knows me well.

I don't want to go there. Not now. "I knew you found that charming," I say with a smirk.

"As do you. How about that... we finally agree on something."

I laugh, because she's right. On both counts. "It does have a certain appeal. It's kind of hot. As far as us agreeing, you might want to mark that on the calendar."

"Cocky, arrogant men are only hot when they can back up their words. Lucky for you, I have a feeling he can. If what that man puts on a plate is any indication of his potential abilities, can you imagine the delicacies you're in for when you let him take you to bed?"

My mind wanders instantly to the three times he's kissed me. I have no doubts...


He's just coming through the door as we reach the lobby. "Ready, beautiful?"

"Yes," I say, my voice cracking on the single word. I'm sure I'm blushing.

There's curiosity in his expression, but he doesn't ask. Maybe he assumes he walked in on some girl talk. Most men would rather not know. I've never been more thankful for that. He takes my jacket from me and holds it open. I can't remember the last time someone did that.

He gives Nadine a cocky grin as he takes my hand and leads me out. He's parked right out front. When he opens my door, I'm about to climb up, but he lifts me and sets me in the seat. He then bends down, unzips my boots, and pulls them off.

"I don't have a pillow, but this is soft." He pulls a sweatshirt from the backseat, folds it, and places it under my feet. "Better?"

I'm so stunned by his sweet gesture, I just stare at him. Wow.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Is he crazy? "Wrong? No. It's much better. Thank you," then I blurt out before I can stop myself, "Are you real?"

He laughs, and the sound melts me. Well, I'm pretty sure I was already melted, so I don't know what I am now. Or maybe I do...  HIS.

He leans in and kisses my cheek, "I think so. Now buckle up, beautiful."

He closes my door, and walks around to his. I glance through my window towards the gallery and find Nadine standing in the door. She's been watching. Her mouth is open. I simply nod at her. Exactly.

"You were a thousand shades of red when I came in... can I ask why?"

Oh no. He's not most men. "Please. Please, Jaimin... please don't ask me that."

"Claire."

"Please?"

"Haven't we already been through this once today? I told you, there's nothing you can't say to me."

"Please. I'm begging you."

"Was it about me?" he asks with a raise of his brow.

Well, isn't he clever? A simple yes or no question. Only two possible answers, a lie or the truth. I sigh, and answer a simple "Yes", hoping he'll let it go.

"But you don't want to tell me."

"No, I really don't."

He seems to actually be considering letting it go. Oh, please let it go...

"Okay. This time."

Thank God.

It's not far to my apartment, we're already here. I reach for my boots and cringe at the thought of putting them back on, even for a minute.

"You don't need those, I'll carry you," he says as he takes them from me.

"You don't have to do that."

"But I'm going to."

I know there's no point in arguing, and I really don't want to put them on, so I keep quiet. Yes, Sir.

As we enter my apartment, he sets me on my feet and takes a curious look around. I'm maniacal about order, except in my studio; I don't allow my compulsive tendencies to enter that space, at least not while I'm working. The only thing not in it's place here is a book and a sketchpad I've left on a side table. I sometimes paint things that form in my mind while I'm reading. I never read without a sketchpad next to me. It doesn't escape his eye.

He walks over and picks up both, reading the title of the book before setting it down. He has quite a collection of books in his apartment, and I know that my current reading is among them.

"Enjoying it?" he asks.

"Yes."

He smiles at me as he then asks, "May I?" holding up my sketchpad.

I feel a moment of panic at his request. "Ive never let anyone look at my sketches before. I think it would be like someone asking you for your secret recipes."

He looks disappointed. He thinks I'm telling him no. He can't possibly know the magnitude of my words, or of how much of myself I'm about to give him. "But you can look, if you want."

You'd think I'd given him some invaluable gift, by the expression on his face. Maybe to him I have. Something I never shared with anyone else. I know what it means to me. Someday maybe he'll understand what I've done. I want him to know. But for now, I smile at him, an acknowledgment that I understand what it means to him.

"Watching you look at it, however, is more than I can handle. I'm going to go change and freshen up. When you tire of my scribbles, the kitchen is that way." I point to it's general direction and head to my bedroom.

I'm not a fancy girl. I have an impeccable wardrobe, at the height of fashion, for my professional life, but when I'm not at the gallery, I'm a very simple sort. I quickly freshen up, and put on a pair of slim, dark jeans, long sleeve chocolate tee, and simple ballet flats. A touch of gloss to my lips, a brush through my hair and a dab of perfume, and I'm ready.

As I come out, I'm surprised to see him sitting in my favorite chair, seemingly engrossed in my sketches. I'm a bit uneasy at the sight, but try to be casual, "Aren't you bored of that yet?"

My voice startles him slightly, he hadn't heard me come in. I think back to this morning in his kitchen... maybe the familiar sounds of your own home make subtle noises easier to detect.

His breath catches as he looks at me, "How is it that you get more beautiful every time I see you? You take my breath away."

I'll never have to wear blush again...

He stands, setting my sketchbook back on the table, and walks over to me. "I only put it down because I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I could look at it for hours. Well, if you weren't here to distract my eyes...

You spend a lot of time in that chair, reading and drawing, don't you?"

I'm surprised by his question. "Yes, how did you know that?"

"It smells like you. I was surrounded by you the second I sat down. Only the sight of you could have pulled me away."

Nope. Never. Need. Blush. Again.

"I love this color on you." He touches the neck of my tee, the tip of his finger lightly grazing my throat as he does.

A shiver runs through me, although I suddenly feel very warm.

"And this one," he says, now running his fingers over my flushed cheeks.

He looks at me so tenderly, and there's a flicker of something else in his eyes. I think he's going to kiss me, but he merely sighs, and takes my hand. "I think I'd better take a look at that kitchen now, while I still remember how to be a gentleman."

Well, if you must...

He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, as if he'd heard my silent thought. Can I keep no secrets from this man?

"Very nice. I'm quite impressed. I think the previous occupant must have been a chef."

"I don't really know. If they were, they'd probably be mortified that someone like me lives here now."

He's opening cabinet doors, looking at everything. If it were anyone else, I'd think it was rude, but I know it's merely his chef's curiosity.

"Your cookware is quite a surprise. Professional. Very expensive. Has it ever even been used?" he asks, with a cocky raise of his brow.

I stick my tongue out at him. "One or two pieces. I admit I wouldn't have a clue what to do with most of it. It's my grandmother's doing, she never gave up hope that someday I'd be inspired. She was a wonderful cook. She loved this kitchen. She bought all of that for me, even though I told her it was unnecessary. She said she knew someday it, and this kitchen, would be put to good use. I didn't know how then, but now... if it's not too presumptuous, I think maybe she foresaw you... "

My voice trails off. I feel the tears welling in my eyes. I miss her so much. Did she know? I think of her words, and the spark in her eye when she spoke them. So many times. Someday dear, trust me. He's coming. Could she have known he was out there searching for me? It wouldn't surprise me.

His arms are wrapped around me. I was so lost in my thoughts, I never even saw him move.

"I'd love to hear about her someday, if you're willing to share that with me. She must have been a wonderful woman. I'm sorry, sweetheart. It breaks my heart to see you sad," he pulls back just enough to wipe the tears that have fallen. "But makes me very happy that you think that. And I'd like to believe she saw."

I rest my chin on his chest, and smile up at him. "She would have liked you," then, changing the subject, I ask brightly "So, did I pass inspection?"

"The kitchen certainly passes," he says with a wink, "you I'm still evaluating. I have one more thing to check before I give my report, but it's not looking good." He releases me and gives me a stern look as he walks toward the refrigerator.

Uh oh. My mushy state is quickly overcome. I know it's exact contents: eggs, butter, a chunk of Gruyere, half a bottle of white wine and a few bottles of Perrier. His back is to me, I can't see his face, but I hear him take a deep breath. Something tells me I'm in trouble. When he closes the door and turns around, I know I am. Crap.

"Claire."

I feel like a child being scolded with the mere use of my name. "But I'm adorable, remember?"

He doesn't smile. "It isn't funny. You were planning to come home. What on earth would you have eaten? Have you had a particularly busy week, or is it always like this?"

I pout at him, hoping to lighten his sudden mood, but nothing.

"Not now. Answer me."

Just standing here getting scolded is hurting my feet, even in my comfortable shoes. I hop up to sit on the island across from him. "Well, I probably would have had a cheese sandwich."

His expression is one of disgust. "That's not even remotely food. Is that the only thing you know how to make?"

"It is food to me. I happen to like them. And no, it's not the only thing. I make eggs sometimes."

He closes his eyes. I can't tell if he's mad or something else. When he opens them, he looks sad. "How often do you eat cheese sandwiches or eggs for dinner?"

"Ummm, I don't know, maybe a few times a week. I eat pasta sometimes too. I'm capable of that. Did you know that you can buy sauce in a jar?"

He looks like he's going to be sick. "You are truly breaking my heart here, Claire."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're starving. You're starving and helpless, and I'm so much of an arrogant asshole that I made you fight and beg for your breakfast just because you wanted to take it with you and eat it in peace."

Mr. Sweet and Sensitive is definitely here now. He's smothering my face with kisses and whispered words, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

I know he's being completely serious, but I can't help but giggle. I grab his face, trying to hold him still. "I admit to being a bit helpless when it comes to cooking, but I promise you I'm not starving. You are arrogant, but definitely not an asshole. And to answer your earlier question, it's not always like this. Not exactly. I do usually have lots of fruit in there. I like things that don't require cooking. And, I tend to do my shopping before I lock myself in for the weekend. Once I start painting, I'm pretty much worthless to the world and myself. I was with you yesterday, so no shopping. And I wasn't here last weekend, so things are a bit more sparse than usual." I plant a sweet kiss on his lips, and ask "Okay?"

"Where were you?"

"What?"

"You said you weren't here last weekend. Where were you?"

A girl could get injured from his sudden mood swings. I detect a bit of jealousy in his question. He's so far off. "I spent a peaceful weekend in the country."

He steps back and looks at me intently, crossing his arms. "With who?"

Definitely jealous. "With myself. And my painting."

He just looks at me. I'm not sure he believes me. We all have our issues. I think his involve honesty and trust. I want to put him at ease. "I told you yesterday, there isn't anyone. There hasn't been for almost a year."

He's still not talking, so I add a few more details, "My grandparents house. Well, I guess it's mine now... anyway, I like to be in the city during the week, but I spend a lot of my weekends there. It's beautiful, and peaceful, and makes me happy. It's hard sometimes, but it helps with the sadness of missing them so much to be there. It's difficult to explain. I lived there with them for a long time. It's home to me."

He runs his hands through his hair, seeming to relax. "I'm sorry, Claire. I shouldn't have jumped to any conclusions. I told you, jealousy is a very irrational feeling, and one I'm very familiar with when it comes to you. The thought of you with anyone makes me crazy."

His jealousy doesn't bother me, but there just isn't any reason for it. "You also told me I had nothing to be jealous of. I'd like you to believe me when I say that neither do you. I know we have to get to know each other, and I know that trust takes time. But I think I understand you enough to know that honesty is very important to you. I'm glad. I respect that. It's important to me too. I haven't lied to you, and I won't. In time, I hope you'll be able to trust that."

"I'm jealous of every person who ever got to be near you. Being here with you now doesn't take that away, it only makes it stronger, more irrational. You're so much better than anything I ever imagined." He steps forward, until he's standing between my legs. His hands come up, and he gently trails his fingers down the sides of my face. His words are full of meaning and vulnerability, "I like hearing you talk about time. I promise you I'll do everything I can to make you happy. I know I can be difficult, but please don't run away from me."

"I'm not going anywhere. I wish you would believe me when I say that."

"I'd like to."

I want to lighten the mood. "If you really mean it... about doing everything you can to make me happy, there is something I want."

"Anything."

I reach up and touch his lips, suddenly too shy to ask.

His voice is low, "Tell me."

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

Why do I always seem to be begging him? "Please?"

"Say the words."

"You know what I want. You're being cruel."

"I do know what you want. You're being bashful. I want you to tell me."

"Maybe you just don't want to." I try to move my legs and get around him so that I can jump down, but he won't let me.

"Oh no you don't," he pulls me tightly against him and locks my arms behind me, "You're going to stay right here and finish what you started."

Oh! I'm trembling like a scared little girl, but I'm anything but. Why can't I just say it? I want him to kiss me, why is that so hard to say? "Nice girls don't ask for such things."

"Says who?" he asks with a chuckle, "Did your mommy tell you that?"

He's enjoying this way too much. I consider telling him that my mommy never gave me any advice, but I don't want to ruin the moment. "You're being difficult again."

"I know."

"Stop," I say, pouting.

"It's two little words, Claire. You can do it."

"Can I text it to you?"

He laughs at my silly request, "You were definitely much braver behind your phone. The answer is no. Tell me. Now."

I focus my eyes on the buttons of his shirt, my voice so small in it's shyness that I barely hear it, "Kiss me."

He leans his face even closer, his lips almost touching mine, "So close."

UGH! "What? What do you mean close? I did what you wanted!"

Another soft chuckle, "I want you to look at me when you say it."

"You're evil."

He's toying with me, running his lips ever so lightly across mine, along my jaw, down my neck. Again and again. "But I can be very, very nice."

Oh, dear God...  A small whimper escapes my lips. "You're the one that said my mouth could be put to better use. Did you forget?"

"Nope."

"Then why are you torturing me?"

"Because I can. And because you like it."

"Arrogant bastard."

"Guilty. And I think you like that, too."

"You're infuriating."

"I know."

I can't take much more of this. "Please?"

"It's in your hands, beautiful."

"You're not even looking at me."

His eyes snap to mine instantly. They're so dark. God, those eyes...


The want I see rips me from my shyness. "Kiss me."

My arms are still trapped behind me, but he moves to hold both of my hands in one of his with ease. His now free hand moves up, his fingers gently grazing the skin of the back of my neck before wrapping themselves in my hair.

He holds me gently, but securely as he whispers to me, "Patience."

His lips resume their agonizing tease, trailing from my ear, along my jaw, down my neck and up again. My breathing is ragged. This man is going to be the death of me. I struggle to break free, I want to pull his mouth to mine, but I can't move. I am completely at his mercy. He tightens his grip on my hands and his fingers tangle more securely into my hair. I think he's going to continue to torment me, but his lips find mine and I forget my struggle.

Each time he kisses me it's different. He begins slowly... playful, teasing little kisses. His tongue sweeps seductively over my bottom lip before he pulls it into his mouth, sucking it gently. He bites it ever so slightly and I gasp. It seems to ignite something in him. He's suddenly ravenous. His hand in my hair tightens it's grasp, pulling and twisting. He releases my hands and we pull at each other. We can't get close enough. My legs wrap around him, I no longer have control of my body. It's controlling me, he's controlling me. Our mouths devour each other, the taste of him is unbelievable. I've never wanted anyone so much. I feel his arousal firm against me, my legs pulling him tighter to me. God, I want him...

What am I doing? I can't do this. I'm not thinking clearly. Why can't I think? I know why... his mouth is why. His hands. His... I want him so much. I know that he wants me. Maybe...

You're being a tease, I hear her say, It isn't nice. You know you can't. You know you won't. You have to stop.


I really hate her right now. Why does she have to be right? I have to stop. I can't do this. Not now. Not yet. Can I? God, why does he have to feel so good? My head is telling me to stop, but my body has a mind of it's own. My mouth should be saying no, but it's busy and greedily ignoring me. I...

He's pulling away from me. I feel one of his hands on my legs, trying to release himself. "Claire," he says breathlessly, "No, sweetheart."

It's exactly what I needed to say, needed to do, so why does it hurt?

"Please don't look at me like that. I'm sorry, it's my fault. I shouldn't have done that. I lost control. I want you so much, I stopped thinking. I can't do that with you, and you can't let me. I know you're not ready for this, Claire. I promise never to push you. I can and will be patient with you. I need you to be able to trust me to protect you, even from me." He looks worried and afraid, "Are you okay?"

Okay? "Yes, I'm fine. Or at least I will be when my heart returns to normal. Why are you sorry? You didn't take anything that I didn't give you, and I asked you to kiss me, remember? I'm not a child, and I don't want you to protect me from you. No, I'm not ready for that, but it doesn't mean I don't want you. I lost control too. I'm sorry if I teased you. I didn't mean to do that. I don't know what came over me. I've never wanted anyone so much. Like everything else since the moment I first felt you watching me in the street, this is new for me. I've never experienced this before. You have some kind of power over me. I think you know that, and I'm trusting you not to use it to hurt me. Everything about you affects me. I hardly recognize myself with you. I'm not too proud to admit any of that to you. But please, don't be sorry. That hurts."

Geez, who's vulnerable now? I don't even understand why I'm so hurt. I am willing the tears not to fall. Please, not again. How many times does he have to see me cry?

He looks at me as though I slapped him, "The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you. I'm truly sorry if my words have. I think you must have misunderstood me. I didn't mean it that way. The only thing I'm sorry for is if I scared you with my actions, if I disrespected you in any way. I'm not sorry that I kissed you. I'm not sorry that I want you. I'm sure as hell not sorry that you want me. I want you to feel safe with me. I need that. I don't want to destroy any chance I may have of building that because I lost control... "

I cut him off now, "You haven't. Why do you always seem to think I'm afraid of you in some way?"

"I don't know. I just don't want to screw this up."

"Is there something I should be afraid of? Do you have a secret second life as a serial killer or something?"

He laughs, "No."

"But then, it's not like you'd admit it or anything."

"I suppose not, if I were. I promise, no skeletons."

"Then what reason would I have to be afraid? Why would I not feel safe with you?"

"I don't know. You said this was new for you, it's new for me too. I want you in ways I haven't ever wanted anyone. I don't really know how to do this. I don't want to do it wrong. I just found you, I don't want to lose you."

"Didn't you hear anything I said?"

"Yes. I'm still processing it. Your words stunned me."

"Why?"

"I didn't know you felt that way. I don't have any power over you, Claire. You've got it backwards. You have all of the power."

It's the same thing Nadine said. I've seen vulnerability in him, but I didn't know he felt quite that way. He thinks I'm going to run. I don't understand why. "What did you mean you don't know how to do this? What do you want from me that's new for you? What do you think you're going to do wrong?"

He lifts me down from the counter, "Are you still willing to come home with me?"

"Yes. If you still want that."

"Of course I do. Let's talk there, if that's okay? I'll be more comfortable away from the scene of the crime."

The what? "Thanks! I finally put my kitchen to good use, which I happened to think was quite wonderful, if irresponsible, and you call it a crime scene. You really know how to hurt a girl."

He pulls me into his arms and smiles at me, "You are completely adorable. I didn't say it wasn't wonderful, just that I felt like a criminal with a sweet little victim. And I don't think that's what your grandmother had in mind for putting your kitchen to good use."

"Well, I don't feel like a victim. You should get over yourself. And as for my grandmother, she's probably up in heaven with pom poms in the air. My grandfather, on the other hand, is probably next to her with a shotgun aimed straight down at you."

He laughs at this, "As he should be. Now, why don't you go grab some things for tomorrow, as I have no intention of bringing you home tonight. I promise to get over myself, rediscover my manners, and behave."

"I think you just want to see me in my pajamas."

"I'm sure that's a sight to behold, but I rather like you in my clothes, so you won't be needing any. Just grab what you'll need to go out in the morning. Tomorrow will be fairly busy for me - please contain your excitement at not having to put up with me, it will hurt my feelings - I'm taking you shopping before I set you free. I won't have you starving while I'm not around to feed you."

"You don't have to do that. You just said you'll be busy, I can shop by myself. I promise I will. I won't starve. And for your information, I happen to like putting up with you."

"I'm glad to hear that. And for your information, it wasn't a request. I'm taking you shopping. Now move your cute little ass or you'll be wearing those clothes tomorrow."

I'm about to protest, but the look he gives me makes me think better of it. I wiggle 'my cute little ass' at him and go to grab my things, happier than I want to admit at the idea of another sleepover. I hope he doesn't completely behave...


                                                 ~


We're sitting on his couch, my feet propped on a pillow in his lap. I'm on my third glass of wine, one of his, and it's delicious, just like the dinner he prepared for us. He is pampering me with his magical hands, and I am in heaven.

We didn't talk about anything serious during dinner, just about his busy day tomorrow and what I would do with mine. I want to get back to our conversation before the wine renders me incoherent. "Tell me what you want. What are you afraid of?"

He's quick to answer, "I told you, I don't want to lose you."

"And I told you I'm not going anywhere. Do you want something that you don't believe I'm willing to give you? You haven't asked me for anything, so how do you know?"

"I want you."

"I'm right here. Tell me."

"I want everything, Claire. I want this. I want to sit and talk to you, and rub your feet when they hurt. I want to take care of you. I want to laugh with you. I want to be a reason you smile. I want to be the reason your cheeks flush and you get weak in the knees. The only reason. I want to go for walks with you and hold your hand. I want to know what movies make you cry. I want to go to sleep with you next to me. I want to wake up and see your beautiful face, and make you breakfast every morning. I want to do everything and nothing with you. I've never wanted that with anyone, but I want it with you. I don't know how, I don't have a clue, but I want it. And I don't want that to scare you."

"You keep saying you don't know how? I don't understand? Surely you've had relationships? Been in love?"

He takes a deep breath. He seems uncomfortable. He's looking at me, but not saying anything.

"It's okay... if it's something you don't want to talk about, I won't push."

"I don't want to keep any secrets from you, Claire. I'm just thinking about what your reaction will be. It worries me."

"I don't know what that means."

"I know," he runs his hand through his hair, never breaking eye contact with me, "I've never cared for anyone. Maybe once when I was young, but it certainly wasn't love. I've never had a serious relationship, or any relationship at all, really. It never appealed to me. I never thought anyone was worth my time."

I'm surprised by his admission. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

I glance around us, seeing my face everywhere, "How did women react to all of this when you brought them here? Did they ask? Did you explain it to them?"

"I never brought anyone here."

"Never?"

"Never. No one belongs here but you. I'm no angel, Claire. This place was sacred to me, because of you, and at times I was content to wait for you ... but I'm still a man. I didn't deny myself certain comforts. There have been many women, used for my needs and tossed aside. I never cared about any of them. I wasn't nice to them. They didn't mean anything to me. I didn't respect them. I didn't care about their feelings. I didn't want to talk to them, or spend time with them. I used them, and they let me. It's not easy for me to say these things to you, but I have to tell you the truth and hope you won't run from it. That's who I've always been. That's not who I want to be with you. I would never treat you that way. I'll probably do a lot of things wrong, but I will try my best. Please be patient with me. Well...  if you're not too disgusted by what I've told you. I wouldn't blame you if you were. Maybe you've already changed your mind... "

I pull my feet from his lap and stand, sitting my wine glass on the table. I don't realize how it looks until I see his face.

He looks like someone punched him. He speaks before I can say anything, his voice quiet as he stands, "It's too much. You want to go home."

Oh no... "No. I admit I'm a bit shocked, but I don't want to go anywhere, if that's okay?"

He looks confused, but relief is quickly settling over his features. "You don't?"

"No. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give you that impression. I was just going to excuse myself for a moment... can you forgive me for my bad timing?"

He nods at me and smiles, seemingly unable to speak.

I'm shocked by his admission, I can understand why he was worried, but it's not my place to judge him. He hasn't treated me in any way like what he described. If those women were willing to be disposable for his limited affection, then that's on them. I'm not going to punish him for it.

"I don't scare that easily," I say, planting a kiss on his cheek, "You worry too much. Now, if you must, my glass is empty... you can worry about that and I'll be right back."


He's on the phone when I come back. He's arguing with someone. He doesn't see me. "I don't know what delusions you're under to think you have some kind of claim on me. I assure you, you have none. I fucked you a few times, that's it. It's of no concern to me if you told yourself it was anything more. You have nothing I want, not now, not ever. You served your purpose and you got what you wanted. Now you'll have to find someone else to wrinkle your sheets."

I wish I wasn't hearing this. There's not a trace of sweetness in this man. His voice sounds foreign to me. He said he wasn't nice and didn't care about their feelings. It's very clear that he wasn't exaggerating. I can't help but wonder if she's hurt by his words.

Whatever she said in response, he's laughing at her now. It's a sinister sound. I sit back down on the couch and pull my legs up to my chest. I close my eyes as if I can turn off what's playing out before me. Of course it doesn't work.

"Enough! I'm done. I've let you waste far too much of my time already. Stop humiliating yourself, it's making me sick and sure as hell doesn't mean anything to me. Don't call me, and stay away from the restaurant."

He doesn't say anything else. I think he hung up on her. I open my eyes and he's looking at me with a horrified expression.

His phone rings, and he silences it, cursing under his breath. He disappears into the kitchen for a moment and comes back with my glass of wine and the bottle, the phone call must have interrupted him before. He hands me my glass, sets the bottle on the table and sits down cautiously next to me. "I'm sorry that you heard that. I don't know what else to say, Claire, I'm mortified."

"You lied to me."

"No... "

"You said there wasn't anyone. You lied."

"No, Claire, please let me... "

"You were seeing her."

"No, I wasn't."

"No? It certainly sounded that way."

"Well, technically, I suppose, but it didn't mean anything. Nothing at all."

"Technically? Until today? Just now?"

"It's not what you think."

"Did I or did I not just hear the break up?"

Again the phone rings. Again he silences it. "It wasn't like that."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It was the first time I'd spoken to her since I met you."

"And?"

"I told her I wouldn't see her again."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

He shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair, "About a week ago."

"How long were you involved?"

"We weren't."

"Okay, I'll use your terminology. How long were you fucking her?"

"That doesn't suit you, Claire."

"I agree, and I wouldn't have to resort to it if you would stop being difficult and answer my questions."

"I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm trying to tell you that she didn't mean anything to me. I just don't see it that way. There was no relationship. Please don't make this into something it wasn't."

"How long did you have a physical relationship with her? It's a simple question. I want to know the answer. If you're not willing to give it to me, then take me home."

He answers immediately, "I don't even know. Maybe two months?"

"It meant something to her?"

"So she says. I don't see how, she has nothing to base it on. It's ridiculous."

"You were intimate with her."

"There was nothing intimate about it."

"Do I need to revert to your terminology again?"

"No. I don't like that."

"Don't you?"

"No. Not from you."

"Am I the only woman you've ever wanted to be sweet and proper? Am I the only woman you've ever been nice to?"

"Yes and yes."

"Am I so different?"

He looks disgusted again, "You're completely different. You're everything. They were nothing. Don't compare yourself to them. It was just sex, Claire. It didn't mean anything to me."

"We see things very differently, Jaimin. I think giving your body to someone is very intimate. It should mean something."

"That's because you're a beautiful person."

"Even a kiss can inspire emotion. I'm sure she had plenty of instances to base feelings on in two months. Even though you didn't return them, maybe you could at least be understanding of that."

"There was nothing, I assure you. And I never kissed her."

"What? Now you're lying."

"No, I told you I'll never lie to you. I've been honest with you about everything else, why would I lie to you about that? I think a kiss is a very intimate act. I never kissed her. I never kissed any of them."

"You kissed me."

His eyes are tender as he answers, "Yes I did."

It means something to me, of course it does, but I can't imagine giving myself to someone who didn't want to kiss me. I can't understand how any woman could accept such a thing. I can't let it go, "Did they ever ask you to?"

"Yes."

"And you refused them?"

"Yes."

"That's cruel."

"I told you I wasn't nice. Don't feel bad for any of them, Claire. They got what they ultimately wanted."

"To be taken to your bed."

"Their beds. And yes."

I feel sick, but I can't stop myself from asking questions, even ridiculous ones. "Did you make them breakfast in the mornings?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Absolutely not. I never spent the night with any of them. I never stayed longer than it took to get dressed."

"Ever?"

"No."

"You've never spent a night just holding someone in your arms?"

"Just you."

He was so sweet, I never would have imagined he'd ever been any other way with anyone. I seem to be the only person that's ever seen that side of him. "And that was enough?"

"Yes. More than enough."

"For how long?"

"As long as you need. As long as we need, if I can presume there is a we. You're still here, so ... "

"We? Are you saying that you need time?"

"Yes."

"If I offered myself to you right now, you would deny me?"

"Yes."

"Liar."

He laughs, "You're adorable."

"I'm being serious!"

"So am I. We both know you have no intention of making any such offer, but if you did, I would have to politely decline."

"Why?"

"Many reasons, sweetheart."

"You don't want me?"

"That is not one of them. You know that. I thought you were being serious?"

"Then tell me."

"You're not ready. That's the most important reason. And I need you to trust me. You don't. I'll wait as long as it takes until you do. You've been hit with a lot of unpleasant truth tonight. I'm not happy about that. I want you to be able to trust that I'm capable of more than that. I want you to understand how I feel about you. I want you to know that you're respected, without any doubts. I need you to know that it would mean something to me. It's important to me. I know it will take time. If it takes forever, you're worth it to me. I'll do whatever I have to to earn your trust."

I don't need to ask him anything more. It doesn't matter. I drain the remaining contents of my fourth glass of wine, set the empty glass on the table, and climb onto his lap.

His hands move to my hips, but he gives me a wary look, "Please behave."

I smile at him sweetly, "I promise. You trust me, don't you?"

He laughs again, "Hell no."

"Earlier you called me a sweet little victim."

He smirks at me now, "You're sweet when you want to be. You are little, that's certainly true, but I think I may have been wrong about the victim part. And that was before you had four glasses of wine."

"I like it."

"Good, I'm glad."

"May I have some more?"

"You're a thirsty little thing. You can have anything you want. I think it's best if I don't move, but if you hand it to me, I'll pour it for you."

"Why don't you want to move?"

"You know why."

"You're no fun."

His eyes burn with intensity, "I'll make you eat those words someday."

I giggle and reach for my glass and the bottle and hand them to him. "Talk is cheap, pretty boy. Now pour. Just a little. Please."

He takes them from me, but just as I think he's going to pour it they're back on the table and I'm flat on my back on the couch, him hovering above me. It happened so fast, I didn't see it coming.

"What did I tell you about that mouth?"

"My mouth?" I feign innocence, "Whatever did I do? I said please."

"So did I. I told you to please behave."

"I did! Not a single wiggle. Isn't that what you meant?" I wiggle against him as I say the words.

"Stop."

I pout at him, trying to suppress the giggles that are threatening to erupt. His eyes narrow at me and I suddenly feel guilty. I shouldn't be so playful with him, it isn't fair. I know he wants me, and I know this must be difficult for him. He has women throwing it at him, he can have it whenever he wants. He's used to that. He's giving it up, willing to suffer and wait, because he believes I'm worth it.

"I'm sorry." There's nothing playful in my apology, it's sincere. "Please don't be angry. I'll be good. I promise."

My seriousness seems to change his mood as quickly as my playfulness did. It's probably for the best, but I'm a little disappointed that my current helpless position will be wasted.

"I'm not angry, but you could do a little less to tempt me," he says, and kisses the tip of my nose as he pulls me up. He pours wine into my glass and heads into the kitchen. He returns with two glasses of water and sets one in front of me. "Please?"

I'm determined not to give him any more stress tonight. I know he's just concerned about all of the wine I've had, so I will oblige him. His phone rings just as I bring the glass to my lips, his satisfied smile turning to irritation before he even looks at it. I thought she'd given up. I'm surprised when he answers it.

He listens for a minute, he's immediately angry. I hear him say "I'll be right there" and he hangs up. He looks at me and shakes his head, "I have to go to Jouissance and take care of a problem."

"Anything I can help with?"

"No. I don't want you to come with me."

Oh. "I'm sorry, I hope everything's alright. Go ahead, I can get myself home." I jump up to slip on my shoes, but he grabs me before I can take a step.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting my things? I don't want to hold you up when you have something important to deal with. I just need to grab my bag and..."

He cuts me off, he's angry, "First of all, I don't want you to go anywhere. I want you to stay here and wait for me. I'll handle it as quickly as I can. Second of all, I know you may see me in a different light after tonight, but do you really think I'm so much of an asshole that I'd fill you with wine and set you out on the street to fend for yourself? If I wanted you to go home, which I don't, I'd certainly see to it that you got there safely before I did anything else. Jesus, Claire, you really have no idea how important you are to me."

My voice is small, "I didn't mean to upset you. I don't think that. You said you didn't want me to go with you... I misunderstood. I wasn't thinking anything, really, I just didn't want to be in the way."

He cups my face in his hand, "You could never be in the way. I need to go, but I want you to understand why first. They called me because Cecile is there making a spectacle of herself. She went there looking for me after I hung up on her and refused her calls. Her behavior is unacceptable and I'm going to put an end to it. I don't want you to go with me because I don't want you subjected to that, or whatever I may do or say to her. And frankly, she's not worthy of being in your presence. I'll be back as soon as I can, and I want you right here. Please? Promise me you'll stay put?"

I don't want to go anywhere. The words are easy, "I promise."

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me so fiercely, it takes my breath away. "I'm sorry," he whispers against my lips, "this is not what I had in mind for a quiet, relaxing evening. Please give me a chance to make it up to you."

"I'll forgive you if you hurry back," I whisper shakily back to him.

Hearing his key turn in the door as he locks me in makes me smile. I don't care what he's done, and I don't care what he may be about to do or say to her now. He's been gone only seconds, and I already miss him.

I curl up on the couch and look again to my face all around me. It wasn't so long ago that I don't recognize myself, but I feel different. It's not that so much in my life has changed, my life itself is not so different. It's me. Would I have felt this way, even a few days ago? No, I wouldn't have. I know that with certainty. The change is him. This beautiful man walked into my life with his moods and his built up need for me, and turned my world upside down.

He wants things he's never wanted - wants them with me. He's opened his heart, and he's offering me parts of himself he's never shared with anyone. What I don't think he understands is that I want it, all of it. I know he isn't perfect, and he doesn't claim to be. I don't want perfect. Perfect doesn't exist. We all have flaws. I want to know all of his. I just want him.

He's still afraid that I'll run... I've ran, ran from every person I've ever been with. He doesn't know that about me. I could never deal with how much they wanted me, needed me, or needed from me. It was always too much. I need to be honest with him about that. I need to, but he's already so afraid, telling him would make everything so much harder. He feels so vulnerable now, how can I be truthful without ripping him wide open? How much of himself is he willing to risk? I don't want to run from him. I won't run from him. I can't define it, even for myself, but I know that I won't run this time. We hardly know each other, it's irrational, but I know. How can I make him see that? I want to give him that knowledge, and I need to give him truth, but how do I give him both? How do I know he won't be the one to run from me if he understands one and can't believe the other? I'm suddenly afraid. I've never been afraid of someone leaving before. No one has ever left me. No one has ever hurt me.

He showed me things about himself tonight, things that he knew would shock me. He may not have planned it, but he didn't hide the truth from me. He knew he was taking a risk by being honest about who he had been, but he took it, and let me decide if I could accept it. I have to do the same thing for him. I have to give him a chance to trust me. I have to risk myself. This is what's different. I want him enough to be afraid of losing him. I'm afraid. For the first time in my life, I know what it feels like to need someone. It's a desperate, irrational feeling. I need him. I understand now. I understand what they felt for me. I understand how I hurt them. I understand how much he can hurt me. I'm vulnerable and exposed. I have no control. He can hurt me.

My instinct is to run. I didn't understand their need for me, it scared me and I ran. That's what I do. Now it's my own needs that I'm afraid of, and nothing has ever scared me more. It's my only chance to protect myself. My heart is pounding. My thoughts are racing through my head, but I'm not moving. I didn't run from him yesterday. I didn't run from him tonight. He's right, the truth was unpleasant. It wasn't easy to hear. It should scare me, should scare the hell out of me, but it doesn't. I don't feel any differently about him. I'm not those women. He's capable of more, he's already shown it to me.

I look towards the door, knowing it's now or never, and I know it's never. No, that's not what I do; that's what I did. I had a moment of panic, that's all. I already knew I wouldn't run. This is where I want to be. This is where I need to be. There's no choice to make, I've already made it. I'm willing to take the risk. He's worth it. I don't know how, but I know that this is where I belong.

I don't know how long I've been sitting here lost in my thoughts, I'm pulled from them by a noise outside of the door. Someone's there. I hear the sound of keys in their hand, but they don't use them, attempting to turn the handle instead. It doesn't scare me. I know it's him. I know what he's doing. If I had decided to leave, the door would be unlocked. I promised, but he still wasn't sure. He doesn't trust me yet. He doesn't understand how I feel about him. Time. We just need time. His key turns in the door now and the sound fills me with joy, though I feel a stab of sadness that he thought I had left. He's smiling when he opens it, because he knows I'm still here. I kept my promise. He didn't scare me away.

He comes to sit next to me, he's cautious again. The fact that I'm still here isn't enough to put him completely at ease, he's quiet.

"Is everything alright?", I ask him.

"Yes. I took care of it."

"She shouldn't have disrespected you that way. I'm sorry that she put you through that. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

"I really don't want to talk about it, but that doesn't seem fair to you. I'm sure you have questions. I can't expect you to just trust me... "

I put my finger to his lips and climb onto his lap again. He doesn't say anything this time. "I don't care. If you want to tell me, I'll listen, but I don't need to know. I can give you that trust. I do have one question, though."

"I'll tell you anything you want to know."

I grab his face in my hands as I ask "Did you really think I had left?"

I can see the fear in his eyes before he utters a sound. He did. I can't imagine what went through his mind before he turned that door handle and knew he was wrong. It breaks my heart.

"I thought once I left, your head would clear and you'd find it easy to just walk away. I would have come after you, but it's what I expected. I'm happier than you can imagine that I was wrong."

I laugh and shake my head, cocky bastard! "You're unbelievable. I don't know whether to slap you or kiss you."

"Kiss me, definitely." He smiles a playful smile, then raises his brows, "What did I do, exactly?"

"You know what you did! 'Once you left, my head would clear?' Did you think I wouldn't catch that?"

His eyes go wide as he realizes he's caught, but he tries to play innocent, "You want to slap me for admitting I was afraid you left? I'm vulnerable and you want to wound me? That's not very nice, Claire."

I roll my eyes at him, "Stick to the kitchen Chef boy, you're a terrible actor."

Mr. Arrogant has arrived, "I don't like that. I have talents that have nothing to do with a kitchen, although after today, I'll consider it's new possibilities... and someday I'll make you forget you ever called me a boy."

I sigh dramatically, "Promises, promises. And tha... "

I'm cut off, my words turned into a squeal as I find myself once again flat on my back beneath him. My arms are trapped at my sides, held tightly by his legs as he straddles me. His hands are cradling my head, he was careful in his playful move and it doesn't escape me.

"You like taunting me, don't you?"

"You're the one bragging. You're appallingly arrogant. I was merely expressing my hopes that you'd prove it. And before you so rudely interrupted me, you were the one in trouble."

"I don't believe you find me appalling," he says with a smirk, "and I would very much like to discuss your hopes, especially while I have you at my mercy, but since you have pointed out my rudeness, that will have to wait. What were you saying? I'm in trouble? Then by all means, continue with your tongue lashing."

"Thank you. Yes. Big trouble. Hmmm... tongue lashing? Well, you DO have me at your mercy. I'm not in a position to slap you, how very convenient for you. I suppose a tongue lashing will have to do. So, where would you like it? My tongue, that is."

He takes a sharp intake of breath. His eyes close briefly. When they open he looks pained. "Are you trying to kill me? I'm out of my element with you, but I'm trying, and your incessant teasing is downright cruel. What did I do that made you want to punish me that badly? Do you want me to fail? Will that make it easier for you to run away?"

Oh no. He's serious. I went too far again. "No, of course not. None of that," I frown at him, but I'm not going to completely let him off the hook, "however, I do think you tried to manipulate me with that kiss before you left here. You're not innocent, by any means. We both know what you did, but I'm honestly not trying to punish you for that or anything else. I'm sorry if I'm being cruel, it's not my intention. I told myself to stop being so playful with you... I'll have to try harder.

Make you fail? Don't say that. Why would I do that? It may come as a surprise to you, but I trust you enough that it makes me careless with my words. It isn't anything more than that. I promise to try to be more considerate. I have time to work on that, because I'm not running anywhere. And in all fairness, I'd like to ask you for something. If you want something, ask me. Talk to me. Don't use the power you know you have over me to manipulate me."

I watch him as he absorbs my words. I know I've given him something. I see it there in those deep, penetrating eyes that first claimed me.

He gazes at me for a moment, and locks it away, responding with a playful pout, "You didn't like my kiss?"

"I didn't say I didn't like it. I said you tried to manipulate me with it."

"I didn't want you to leave."

"I promised you I wouldn't."

"You did. I was just too afraid to believe it. See? I don't have power over you, except maybe for your current helpless state" he chuckles, then continues, "I kissed you because I wanted to. The fact that you got weak in the knees was just dumb luck on my side. I won't deny that I tried to accomplish that, but I still thought you would leave. You held all of the power. I'm sorry that you felt manipulated, but I'm not sorry for why I tried. And one more thing... I like your careless words. Don't change anything, please. I'll gladly suffer."

I knew he understood. He smiles at me sweetly before his eyes move to his position of power over me. His grin is pure arrogance now.

"Feeling powerful?" I ask him with raised brows.

His eyes are playful. "Very."

"Don't you feel sorry for your sweet little victim?"

"Not sorry at all."

"Aren't you going to let me up?"

"Not until I've taught you and your smart mouth a lesson."

"I thought you were going to rediscover your manners and behave?"

"You and I both know you'd rather I didn't."

There is no limit to his arrogance. "I see you haven't gotten over yourself, either."

"Am I mistaken? Tell me the truth."

"No, you're absolutely right. I don't deny that."

He smiles at me and plants one innocent kiss on my lips. "Can I ask you one question?"

"Yes."

"Did you think about leaving?"

He needs to know. I'm here, but he needs more. "I had a moment of panic."

He starts to pull himself off of me. He moves just enough that I can free my arms. I grab his shirt and pull him back to me. "Don't do that. I didn't leave. It was a moment. It wasn't anything you said. It was me. It was a moment and it passed. I couldn't leave."

His voice is low, "What stopped you?"

I look into his eyes, and they're so full of need. This is what I've always run from. It's right here staring me in the face. I'm shaking. It's not because I'm scared, it's the complete opposite. I'm overwhelmed with the knowledge that I'm not afraid of it. Not this time. My heart is pounding again, my breathing erratic. He's waiting for an answer. I want to tell him. I'm trying to find the words.

The need in his eyes changes to worry and concern. He's getting up, pulling me with him until I'm cradled in his arms. "Claire? What's wrong? Talk to me. You're scaring me."

His arms around me give me strength. My breathing slows and I find my voice, though it's weak. "It's you."

He misunderstands immediately, not giving me a chance to continue. His words are desperate, "No... please? I'm so sorry... please give me a chance to fix it. I'll do anything... I can't lose you already... "

I put my fingers to his lips to silence him, he's so wrong. "No. You don't understand. You asked me what stopped me. It's you. I couldn't leave because of you. I couldn't leave because... "

I stop for a second, and take a deep breath. This isn't easy for me, but I'm willing to give it to him. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't seem possible, but I know. I need him to know. I take his face in my hands, "Breathe," I whisper to him. "Please?"

His only response comes from his eyes, telling me he can't. I smile at him, and give him the words that I know will melt his fear away. "I couldn't leave because I know, without any doubts, that this is where I belong."

Watching his fear fall away is a beautiful sight. Watching it being replaced with trust melts me. He believes me. He trusts my words. I don't see question or doubt, only understanding. It makes sense to him.

He's so tender... his eyes as he looks at me, his smile, his fingers caressing my face, his voice as he tries to speak "You can't possibly... " His words linger unfinished, he's too overwhelmed.

He's wrong again. I can. I do.

"I know," I whisper to him.