“My name is Marvin, Miss. It's a pleasure to meet you,” he says with a big smile, the golden tooth glistens, and I do my best not to stare at it.
“I’m Clara. It’s nice to meet you as well,” I respond with a small smile.
Marvin takes off his black rain jacket and drapes it over the passenger seat. Little drops of water roll down the fabric anddrip onto the car mats, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He wears a black blazer that matches the rest of his outfit.
“Ready to hit the road, Miss?” Marvin asks me as he gets comfortable in his seat and buckles his seatbelt. He adjusts the inside mirror of the car and glances at me, waiting for a response.
I nod. Catching on that I am not the talkative type, he fidgets with the radio, and once he finds a station he likes, he slightly turns up the volume and starts the engine. I quickly buckle my seatbelt, put in earplugs, and turn on music to soothe my nerves. As the car pulls onto the road, I lean my head against the cold window and gaze outside. Rain continues to pelt against the glass in a relentless rhythm. As we drive through the street I’ve called home for many years, I stare until every sense of familiarity fades, and we drive off into the unknown.
Somewhere during the eight-hour trip, I doze off, and when the car jerks as it drives over a bumpy, gravelly road, I wake up and stare outside with eyes wide open. Everywhere I look, I see trees and nature, not a person in sight, as a canopy of green invites us into its embrace. Excitement blooms inside me as I take in my new, beautiful surroundings of serenity. A large brick house looms against the green scenery, reminding me of a small castle or fortress. Grey clouds of smoke billow from the chimney, and the porch is covered in plants and flowers, with an overgrown wisteria along the downspout serving as the centerpiece, and amidst them, a worn wooden bench, the moss green paint peeling, revealing its old age.
My fingers hover over the buttons of my phone. I want to text or call Jasper to tell him I’ve arrived, but suddenly, a suffocating fear grips my throat. Instantly, dark thoughts cloud me. What if he sees me and feels disappointed? Or regret? What if he has second thoughts and sends me away? Or abandons me? Tears gather in the corner of my eyes, and my demons fightfor my attention, each one offering an even crueler insight than the last. As I blink, I feel the first tear climb over the ridge and cascade across my cheek. The next one follows faster, and I stay seated, frozen in place, as the van comes to a stop. I hear Marvin speak to me, but I don’t register his words; the paralysis that has me in a chokehold, is too overwhelming.
I don’t notice the car door opening or the cold air brushing against my skin. Male voices echo around me, but I can’t understand the words, as if my head is underwater and everything sounds drowned out. I only come to my senses when Jasper grabs my chin, his calloused fingers rough against my soft skin, forcing me to look at him. The sight of him strangely grounds me, and I return to the present. I feel myself shivering as the cold seeps in. My coat is still damp from nature’s earlier assault, and Jasper takes off his, beckoning me to get out of the car. When I do, he drapes the warm fabric over my shoulder. I take a small whiff, his scent embracing me.
“Let’s get you inside, my love,” he says, his voice gravelly and low. “Marvin, could you please make sure Clara’s belongings are brought inside?”
“Of course, Sir,” Marvin says, giving a slight bow.
The inside of the house is warm, and a fire roars in the wood stove, its orange glow shining from the small glass window with iron casts that remind one of Gothic church arches. Despite the building's size, it radiates coziness. Being in Jasper’s presence strangely calms me, and I let him lead me through his home.Our home. I realize my belongings will fit in just fine; his place is filled with antiques, trinkets, and books—everything that makes my heart flutter. When we arrive at the area where the bedrooms are situated, he scrapes his throat.
“I don’t want you to feel forced to share a bed with me, so I prepared a guestroom for you, so you have a choice. You can stay wherever you feel most comfortable.”
His voice is gentle and soft, with a rough edge and a vulnerability hidden within his words. He fidgets with his fingers as he waits for my answer. All he wants for me is to feel safe with him, especially being here by myself. A small smile spreads across my face, the gesture more grand to me than he’ll ever realize. It’s the respect he shows for me, my boundaries, my comfort.
“I want to stay in your room, if you’ll allow me.”
His eyes light up, those hazelnut-flecked eyes, the perfect color to complement his long raven hair, which is tied in a ponytail. I hear his breathing become a little heavier, or perhaps more relaxed. The large deadhead moth tattoo that is wrapped around his throat, comes to rest as well.
“Then I’ll carry your suitcase and boxes to my room, whenever you are ready to go to sleep, and you can unpack tomorrow,” he says with relief.
He rests his hand on the small of my back as he guides me away from the bedrooms and continues the house tour. Everywhere I look, I see paintings of all sizes in ornate frames, mounted animals, antique lamps, jewelry boxes, and books. It feels as if the house swallows me whole—its maw wide, its teeth made of everything I adore. The trepidation I felt upon arriving evaporates with each step I take deeper into Jasper’s den. A lair I want to explore.
“Are you hungry?” Jasper asks, when we descend the stairs.
I nod. “I could eat something.”
He leads me back to the kitchen, and I sit down on one of the mahogany chairs, admiring the intricate details carved into the wood.
“Would you like some tea as well?”
“Yes, please,” I say, as I gaze at him, unable to keep the smile from my face, and he grins back at me. He sifts through thekitchen cabinets to fetch the kettle and two porcelain cups. From a drawer he takes a jar with fresh honey.
I glance at him.
I want to frame this moment so I can relish in it a little longer, as it encompasses the peace I’ve been yearning for.
Chapter Three
Iwake up early; outside, it’s still dark except for the faint moonlight, and it takes me a few seconds to remember where I am, what I’ve done. The memories of yesterday flood back into my mind. I’m in bed next to the man of my dreams, who’s still sleeping soundly beside me. I trace the soft black fabric of the sheets with my fingertips; the lace edges are the only rough patterns. It’s strange that I no longer need to wake up at a specific time, to perform my mundane work tasks or call my mother. The moment Jasper and I made plans for my move, I filed my resignation letter. I don’t think my boss even knew who I was. My mother had noticed my absence, which was surprising. I had ignored her wave of worried texts yesterday after not calling her, because I didn't feel any desire to update her on my whereabouts. Part of me felt she didn’t deserve to know, as she never cared for my well-being before.
I turn on my side and close my eyes once more, my imagination taking me hostage, but for the first time in ages, it’s pleasant, instead of troubled. This time, life sings where death is silent.
Dawn nudges me awake, and it’s been years since I felt this well rested. The scent of freshly baked pancakes and eggs finds its way into my nostrils, and I get out of bed. I slip my feet into the soft slippers Jasper put next to the bed for me, and I wrap the black silken bathrobe that’s draped over a chair around my body. I quickly brush my teeth to rid me of my morning breath. Before I shuffle silently into the kitchen, not wanting to stir or frighten him, as he handles hot pans and a kettle.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Did you sleep well?” he asks, and leans in for a kiss.
I press my lips to his and feel heat coil between my legs as his tongue probes my mouth open to meet mine. I let him in, our mouths exploring one another. I drape one arm around his neck, and deepen the kiss. He softly bites on my lower lip, and I let out a soft whimper, which I try to swallow down. Unconsciously, I press my thighs together in hopes the sensation lessens, but the friction only makes it worse. Desire pools in my stomach with our close proximity. Last night, besides a cuddle and a kiss, he stayed respectful and said he’d follow my lead when it came to intimacy.
