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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
The Door of Memory
Part 12 – By Phenyx
01/16/05
“Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. “
Susan B. Anthony
-
Jarod leaned his head back against the cushions and sighed. Light from the single bulb on the porch filtered through the window, casting odd, crooked shadows across the room. Through the darkness, he could just see the ceiling above his head. He studied it for a time, hoping to find some solace in the blank surface.
When he realized there were no answers forthcoming, Jarod shifted his attention. He gazed around the room, unsure of what he was supposed to do at this point. Sulking in the dark was doing him no good. The throw pillow he was hugging to his chest offered no security.
Security?
Jarod lifted the decorative square and stared at it in confusion. He suddenly felt lost, as if the ground had just shifted and he’d found himself falling. Any lingering trace of anger evaporated, replaced by bewilderment over recent events.
“I don’t understand,” Jarod thought to himself.
He tossed the pillow aside and stood up. Restlessness twitched along his limbs so that Jarod began to pace without noticing he was doing so. He had made two passes and was starting on a third when a frame on the mantel caught his eye.
With a wistful smile, Jarod picked up the image, caressing the glass with his fingertips. This was the newest addition to Parker’s collection of photos, one of the few in existence that pictured the two of them together. Jarod’s mother had captured the shot on Christmas Day, a little over one month ago.
In the picture, Jarod was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. In his lap he held a jumbled mass of wrapping and crepe paper. He was looking down at the half-opened gift with a look of excitement and wonder on his face. Jarod loved Christmas. He liked getting presents almost as much as he enjoyed giving them. That joy was evident in the snapshot his mother had taken.
But what truly made this photo special was the emotion that had been caught on Parker’s face. Clad in jeans and a soft pink sweater, Parker was sitting at Jarod’s side. Shoulder to shoulder with him, she had been leaning forward in order to see what was in the box. As the camera captured the moment, Parker had glanced up at Jarod. The look on her face contained a blend of indulgence and adoration. She was happy. She was in love. In this frozen instant of time, it was written on her as blatantly as if she’d tattooed it across her forehead.
Jarod swallowed hard. He held the picture to his chest, hugging it as he had the pillow a few moments ago. He realized he was trembling. Abruptly afraid that he might drop it, Jarod carefully placed the photograph back on the mantel with one shaking hand.
With nothing left to hold on to, Jarod wrapped his arms around himself as he battled with his emotions. Confusion morphed into fright. A vague unformed fear clawed at him until he was shivering uncontrollably.
“Bullshit,” he hissed. The bravado of the word did nothing to alleviate the shakes. There was nothing formless about this. He knew exactly what he was afraid of. He was afraid that she would ask him to leave.
Jarod plopped down in one corner of the dark couch and rocked gently back and forth. His puzzlement twisted in on its self and slammed back into his chest like a physical blow. How could this happen? He loved Parker. He loved her more than he ever imagined was possible. She loved him. Jarod knew that and the picture proved it.
How could he care about her so much and still have said those things? How could she have loved him so passionately this morning and yet ripped into him with such vehemence tonight? They had railed at each other worse this evening than they ever had during the years she had chased after him. Now, in a cliché that Jarod did not find the least bit amusing, he’d been banished to the couch. The couch for Christ’s sake!
It hurt. It hurt that Parker could so easily turn him out of her room. How much more effort would it take for her to turn him out of her life?
If it had been anyone else, Jarod would have seen tonight’s argument as the signal to move on. He had in fact, ended past relationships over far less heated disagreements. Of course, Jarod would never have lost his temper with another woman. He had never allowed himself to get close enough emotionally for any other woman to affect him this way.
But Parker could. Parker had always known exactly how to push his buttons, even when they were kids. God knew Jarod could push her trigger whenever the whim struck him to do so. Perhaps that was why the fight had been so bitterly fierce; they each knew the other’s most vulnerable areas. Angry words had struck targets with a precision that no weapon could ever match.
They had argued about The Centre. Once again that evil place was coming between them. With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, Jarod had wanted to take Parker to Martha’s Vineyard for a retreat but she had protested. Parker said she’d taken too many long weekends since they’d started their affair and couldn’t afford another one so soon.
In retrospect, it was Parker’s choice of words that had set off Jarod’s temper. He didn’t like being an “affair” in her eyes. It didn’t feel like one to him. For Jarod, the four months that they had been together was record breaking. He was in this for the long haul, and had thought that she was too.
Then again, they didn’t talk about the future. They didn’t talk much about the past either for that matter. It wasn’t that they didn’t talk, because they did. Jarod and Miss Parker actually talked quite a lot. Parker was smart, well educated and had traveled extensively, making her an excellent conversationalist. She and Jarod talked about everything from political ethics to quantum theory. Yet Parker wasn’t above discussing nonsense like which brand of ice cream was the best or why women could wear socks to bed but a man shouldn’t.
And yet, as easy as it was to be with Parker, Jarod knew there were many topics that were simply taboo between them. Her father was one. Jarod’s deep animosity for Mr. Parker made it difficult for him to speak a civil word about the man. Kyle was another. Neither Jarod nor Miss Parker could forget that her twin had killed his brother. Jarod sometimes felt that Parker might like to hear about his memories of her mother, but he could think of no way to discuss Catherine Parker without alluding to the fact that her death had been directly related to her desire to free Jarod from his prison.
Jarod sighed. The sound came out as more of a whimper. Slouching with resignation, Jarod glared through the darkness at the ceiling once more.
“I hate this,” he said aloud. Jarod glanced around, half expecting a response from the shadows. He made a decision, frightening and risky, but once made, he knew it was the right thing to do. Girding up his courage, Jarod stood and strode across the room with determination.
Worst case, Parker would toss him out of the house. Jarod’s steps faltered a bit at that thought. But the alternative was to sit out here in the dark, miserable and full of resentment. If he did that, if he let this seed of doubt fester, what he and Parker had built together thus far would eventually crumble into dust.
Stopping at the closed bedroom door, Jarod almost knocked, but didn’t. “It’s my room too,” he thought peevishly. Turning the knob, he entered as silently as he could. It was darker in here than in the rest of the house. The heavy curtains over the windows were made for just that purpose. An eerie sense of déjà vu washed over Jarod, forcing him to take a deep breath to push it away.
“Parker?” he said. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” she answered.
Jarod stood there in the dark, rooted to the spot with uncertainty. He gazed toward the lump of shadow on the bed with no clue what he was going to say. His next words could be the most important he’d ever spoken. The rest of his life could be shaped by what happened in these few minutes, and yet he was standing there as mute and stupid as a tree stump.
“Say something, idiot,” his mind growled at him.
“I don’t want to sleep on the couch,” is what came out of his mouth. Even to his own ears it sounded petulant and whiny.
Parker sighed heavily.
After a long silence, Jarod spoke again. “Please don’t send me away,” he said in a shaking voice. “I don’t want to leave.”
The shadow that was Parker sat up in bed. “Who said anything about leaving?” she asked with obvious surprise. “Jarod, it was only an argument.”
Jarod took a step closer before replying. “It was an ugly one.”
“True,” Parker admitted.
Neither spoke for several minutes, until the silence between them was deafening and Jarod could no longer stand it. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” Jarod gasped. “Please Parker, tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
“Jarod,” Parker’s voice sounded both sad and indulgent. “I’m not your first girlfriend. Am I?”
Jarod shook his head. Then, realizing that Parker may not have seen the motion in the gloom, he answered, “No. There have been others.”
“So,” Parker went on gently. “What did you do when you argued with them?”
Jarod looked down to stare at his feet. He could barely see them in the darkness.
“Shit,” Parker bit suddenly. Jarod heard a soft thump, and recognized it as the sound of a small fist hitting a pillow. “I know what you did.” Parker’s voice was sharp. “You packed your stuff and hit the road. Didn’t you?”
Jarod shrugged, not caring if Parker could distinguish the movement. “This,” he began, “is the longest relationship I’ve ever had, romantically speaking.”
Parker sighed again and Jarod could hear the weary sadness in her tone.
He kept talking. “There was a girl once. I was involved with her for two whole weeks.” Jarod swallowed. “Granted, it wasn’t two consecutive weeks but I think it still counts.”
“Jarod,” Parker’s soft voice was like a caress. “Come here.”
Jarod approached and stood at the side of the bed. Parker grabbed his fingertips in one hand and gently shook his arm.
“So what you’re telling me,” Parker said. “Is that you’ve never had a lover’s quarrel.”
“I guess not.”
Parker patted the mattress at her side and Jarod sat. “Okay, let me explain how this works,” she said. “Couples fight. It is a fundamental truth. And don’t look for me to stroke your ego by asking if we are a couple. Let’s just take that as a given. Agreed?”
“Okay,” Jarod tried to keep the elation in his voice to a reasonable level.
“As a couple we are going to occasionally disagree,” Parker continued. “Even fight at times. I know it’s scary and I know it hurts but it is completely normal. When two people become involved, the closeness they share gives them each a great deal of leverage when angered. And if there was ever a man and a woman who knew how to hurt each other, it would be us.”
“We can bring out the worst in each other,” Jarod whispered.
“You can say that again.” Parker’s wry tone held no accusation but Jarod flinched just the same. In response, one soft palm cupped Jarod’s cheek and turned him to face Parker. “Oh Jarod,” she sighed sadly. “Sometimes that little boy is so very close to the surface, isn’t he?”
Jarod swallowed. He was going to cry. He knew there was no stopping it, but he fought the tears anyway.
Parker’s low voice was soothing and painful at the same time. “Four years old and lost. So lost and alone, unable to understand what has happened to his world.”
Jarod lost the battle and began to sob. Parker pulled him into her arms and held him tight. Jarod clung to her like a drowning man to a life preserver. Parker ran her fingers through Jarod’s hair, comforting him as she went on.
“You can’t hide him from me, Jarod,” she whispered. “You can’t hide that little boy any more than I can hide the lonely girl in me. Those children lurk inside us, right next to the dark, dangerous monster that can so easily kill another being.
I’ll tell you a secret,” Parker said. “Yes, at times we do bring out the worst in each other. But it is only because we know it is there. No one else does. No one else ever will. That’s why I’m beginning to believe this might work, Jarod.” Parker’s voice was now little more than a whisper.
She kissed Jarod’s temple tenderly then continued. “There are so many old wounds, scars that have never properly healed. No one else can see them. No one else can tend those old hurts.”
Parker leaned back, lying on the bed and taking Jarod with her. With his head cushioned against her breast, Jarod closed his eyes and gave in to the feeling of security. He allowed the fear and anxiety he’d been suffering to fade away.
When his sniffles had subsided Jarod asked, “Now what?”
He could feel Parker’s soft chuckle. “Are you still angry with me?”
“No.”
“Well then,” she said. “The next part is easy. You apologize and we have make-up sex.”
Jarod lifted his head to gaze at her skeptically. “I apologize?” he asked.
“Yup.”
“As I recall, I wasn’t the only one yelling,” Jarod said.
“Maybe not,” Parker replied with a smile. “But if you want to get laid, you will ask for forgiveness.”
“That doesn’t seem exactly fair.”
“Tough.” Parker shrugged. “It’s the price you pay for getting seriously involved, Pez-head. I’ve got you by the you-know-what.” To demonstrate her point, Parker grabbed Jarod by the piece of anatomy in question.
“Oh!” he gasped in surprise.
Parker rolled over, flipping Jarod onto his back. She sat up, straddling his thighs as she looked down at him. With her tangled hair and disheveled appearance, Jarod thought she was the most desirable thing he ever seen in his life.
Leaning forward, Parker kissed Jarod’s lips. The kiss seemed full of love and promise. Parker’s hand moved erotically over him for a moment before abruptly squeezing. Jarod groaned, not sure if it was pleasure or pain that tore the sound from him.
“Where’s my apology?” she demanded.
Jarod laughed. He couldn’t help it. God, but he loved this woman. “Oh mistress of my universe,” he declared. “My royal highness, I beg thee. Forgive this wretched excuse of a man for being so unworthy of your presence.”
“Hmm,” Parker seemed to ponder for a moment before leaning in for another kiss. “Gotta love a man who knows his place.”
With a dramatic growl Jarod rolled, pinning Parker to the mattress beneath him. Parker’s laughter warmed his heart as Jarod began to nibble along the curve of her throat. After a long, languorous taste of her lips, Jarod leaned his forehead against Parker’s and sighed.
“I am sorry, Miss Parker,” he whispered with all seriousness.
“Me too,” she answered.
“I don’t ever want to fight with you again,” Jarod vowed.
Parker kissed him. “Don’t promise anything yet, Rat. You may change your mind when you find out how much fun making up can be.”
“It will take a lot to make me forget the misery of the last couple of hours,” Jarod said.
A sly smile spread across Parker’s face. “Hold that thought, love. We’ll discuss it in the morning.”
Part 12 – By Phenyx
01/16/05
“Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. “
Susan B. Anthony
-
Jarod leaned his head back against the cushions and sighed. Light from the single bulb on the porch filtered through the window, casting odd, crooked shadows across the room. Through the darkness, he could just see the ceiling above his head. He studied it for a time, hoping to find some solace in the blank surface.
When he realized there were no answers forthcoming, Jarod shifted his attention. He gazed around the room, unsure of what he was supposed to do at this point. Sulking in the dark was doing him no good. The throw pillow he was hugging to his chest offered no security.
Security?
Jarod lifted the decorative square and stared at it in confusion. He suddenly felt lost, as if the ground had just shifted and he’d found himself falling. Any lingering trace of anger evaporated, replaced by bewilderment over recent events.
“I don’t understand,” Jarod thought to himself.
He tossed the pillow aside and stood up. Restlessness twitched along his limbs so that Jarod began to pace without noticing he was doing so. He had made two passes and was starting on a third when a frame on the mantel caught his eye.
With a wistful smile, Jarod picked up the image, caressing the glass with his fingertips. This was the newest addition to Parker’s collection of photos, one of the few in existence that pictured the two of them together. Jarod’s mother had captured the shot on Christmas Day, a little over one month ago.
In the picture, Jarod was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. In his lap he held a jumbled mass of wrapping and crepe paper. He was looking down at the half-opened gift with a look of excitement and wonder on his face. Jarod loved Christmas. He liked getting presents almost as much as he enjoyed giving them. That joy was evident in the snapshot his mother had taken.
But what truly made this photo special was the emotion that had been caught on Parker’s face. Clad in jeans and a soft pink sweater, Parker was sitting at Jarod’s side. Shoulder to shoulder with him, she had been leaning forward in order to see what was in the box. As the camera captured the moment, Parker had glanced up at Jarod. The look on her face contained a blend of indulgence and adoration. She was happy. She was in love. In this frozen instant of time, it was written on her as blatantly as if she’d tattooed it across her forehead.
Jarod swallowed hard. He held the picture to his chest, hugging it as he had the pillow a few moments ago. He realized he was trembling. Abruptly afraid that he might drop it, Jarod carefully placed the photograph back on the mantel with one shaking hand.
With nothing left to hold on to, Jarod wrapped his arms around himself as he battled with his emotions. Confusion morphed into fright. A vague unformed fear clawed at him until he was shivering uncontrollably.
“Bullshit,” he hissed. The bravado of the word did nothing to alleviate the shakes. There was nothing formless about this. He knew exactly what he was afraid of. He was afraid that she would ask him to leave.
Jarod plopped down in one corner of the dark couch and rocked gently back and forth. His puzzlement twisted in on its self and slammed back into his chest like a physical blow. How could this happen? He loved Parker. He loved her more than he ever imagined was possible. She loved him. Jarod knew that and the picture proved it.
How could he care about her so much and still have said those things? How could she have loved him so passionately this morning and yet ripped into him with such vehemence tonight? They had railed at each other worse this evening than they ever had during the years she had chased after him. Now, in a cliché that Jarod did not find the least bit amusing, he’d been banished to the couch. The couch for Christ’s sake!
It hurt. It hurt that Parker could so easily turn him out of her room. How much more effort would it take for her to turn him out of her life?
If it had been anyone else, Jarod would have seen tonight’s argument as the signal to move on. He had in fact, ended past relationships over far less heated disagreements. Of course, Jarod would never have lost his temper with another woman. He had never allowed himself to get close enough emotionally for any other woman to affect him this way.
But Parker could. Parker had always known exactly how to push his buttons, even when they were kids. God knew Jarod could push her trigger whenever the whim struck him to do so. Perhaps that was why the fight had been so bitterly fierce; they each knew the other’s most vulnerable areas. Angry words had struck targets with a precision that no weapon could ever match.
They had argued about The Centre. Once again that evil place was coming between them. With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, Jarod had wanted to take Parker to Martha’s Vineyard for a retreat but she had protested. Parker said she’d taken too many long weekends since they’d started their affair and couldn’t afford another one so soon.
In retrospect, it was Parker’s choice of words that had set off Jarod’s temper. He didn’t like being an “affair” in her eyes. It didn’t feel like one to him. For Jarod, the four months that they had been together was record breaking. He was in this for the long haul, and had thought that she was too.
Then again, they didn’t talk about the future. They didn’t talk much about the past either for that matter. It wasn’t that they didn’t talk, because they did. Jarod and Miss Parker actually talked quite a lot. Parker was smart, well educated and had traveled extensively, making her an excellent conversationalist. She and Jarod talked about everything from political ethics to quantum theory. Yet Parker wasn’t above discussing nonsense like which brand of ice cream was the best or why women could wear socks to bed but a man shouldn’t.
And yet, as easy as it was to be with Parker, Jarod knew there were many topics that were simply taboo between them. Her father was one. Jarod’s deep animosity for Mr. Parker made it difficult for him to speak a civil word about the man. Kyle was another. Neither Jarod nor Miss Parker could forget that her twin had killed his brother. Jarod sometimes felt that Parker might like to hear about his memories of her mother, but he could think of no way to discuss Catherine Parker without alluding to the fact that her death had been directly related to her desire to free Jarod from his prison.
Jarod sighed. The sound came out as more of a whimper. Slouching with resignation, Jarod glared through the darkness at the ceiling once more.
“I hate this,” he said aloud. Jarod glanced around, half expecting a response from the shadows. He made a decision, frightening and risky, but once made, he knew it was the right thing to do. Girding up his courage, Jarod stood and strode across the room with determination.
Worst case, Parker would toss him out of the house. Jarod’s steps faltered a bit at that thought. But the alternative was to sit out here in the dark, miserable and full of resentment. If he did that, if he let this seed of doubt fester, what he and Parker had built together thus far would eventually crumble into dust.
Stopping at the closed bedroom door, Jarod almost knocked, but didn’t. “It’s my room too,” he thought peevishly. Turning the knob, he entered as silently as he could. It was darker in here than in the rest of the house. The heavy curtains over the windows were made for just that purpose. An eerie sense of déjà vu washed over Jarod, forcing him to take a deep breath to push it away.
“Parker?” he said. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” she answered.
Jarod stood there in the dark, rooted to the spot with uncertainty. He gazed toward the lump of shadow on the bed with no clue what he was going to say. His next words could be the most important he’d ever spoken. The rest of his life could be shaped by what happened in these few minutes, and yet he was standing there as mute and stupid as a tree stump.
“Say something, idiot,” his mind growled at him.
“I don’t want to sleep on the couch,” is what came out of his mouth. Even to his own ears it sounded petulant and whiny.
Parker sighed heavily.
After a long silence, Jarod spoke again. “Please don’t send me away,” he said in a shaking voice. “I don’t want to leave.”
The shadow that was Parker sat up in bed. “Who said anything about leaving?” she asked with obvious surprise. “Jarod, it was only an argument.”
Jarod took a step closer before replying. “It was an ugly one.”
“True,” Parker admitted.
Neither spoke for several minutes, until the silence between them was deafening and Jarod could no longer stand it. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” Jarod gasped. “Please Parker, tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
“Jarod,” Parker’s voice sounded both sad and indulgent. “I’m not your first girlfriend. Am I?”
Jarod shook his head. Then, realizing that Parker may not have seen the motion in the gloom, he answered, “No. There have been others.”
“So,” Parker went on gently. “What did you do when you argued with them?”
Jarod looked down to stare at his feet. He could barely see them in the darkness.
“Shit,” Parker bit suddenly. Jarod heard a soft thump, and recognized it as the sound of a small fist hitting a pillow. “I know what you did.” Parker’s voice was sharp. “You packed your stuff and hit the road. Didn’t you?”
Jarod shrugged, not caring if Parker could distinguish the movement. “This,” he began, “is the longest relationship I’ve ever had, romantically speaking.”
Parker sighed again and Jarod could hear the weary sadness in her tone.
He kept talking. “There was a girl once. I was involved with her for two whole weeks.” Jarod swallowed. “Granted, it wasn’t two consecutive weeks but I think it still counts.”
“Jarod,” Parker’s soft voice was like a caress. “Come here.”
Jarod approached and stood at the side of the bed. Parker grabbed his fingertips in one hand and gently shook his arm.
“So what you’re telling me,” Parker said. “Is that you’ve never had a lover’s quarrel.”
“I guess not.”
Parker patted the mattress at her side and Jarod sat. “Okay, let me explain how this works,” she said. “Couples fight. It is a fundamental truth. And don’t look for me to stroke your ego by asking if we are a couple. Let’s just take that as a given. Agreed?”
“Okay,” Jarod tried to keep the elation in his voice to a reasonable level.
“As a couple we are going to occasionally disagree,” Parker continued. “Even fight at times. I know it’s scary and I know it hurts but it is completely normal. When two people become involved, the closeness they share gives them each a great deal of leverage when angered. And if there was ever a man and a woman who knew how to hurt each other, it would be us.”
“We can bring out the worst in each other,” Jarod whispered.
“You can say that again.” Parker’s wry tone held no accusation but Jarod flinched just the same. In response, one soft palm cupped Jarod’s cheek and turned him to face Parker. “Oh Jarod,” she sighed sadly. “Sometimes that little boy is so very close to the surface, isn’t he?”
Jarod swallowed. He was going to cry. He knew there was no stopping it, but he fought the tears anyway.
Parker’s low voice was soothing and painful at the same time. “Four years old and lost. So lost and alone, unable to understand what has happened to his world.”
Jarod lost the battle and began to sob. Parker pulled him into her arms and held him tight. Jarod clung to her like a drowning man to a life preserver. Parker ran her fingers through Jarod’s hair, comforting him as she went on.
“You can’t hide him from me, Jarod,” she whispered. “You can’t hide that little boy any more than I can hide the lonely girl in me. Those children lurk inside us, right next to the dark, dangerous monster that can so easily kill another being.
I’ll tell you a secret,” Parker said. “Yes, at times we do bring out the worst in each other. But it is only because we know it is there. No one else does. No one else ever will. That’s why I’m beginning to believe this might work, Jarod.” Parker’s voice was now little more than a whisper.
She kissed Jarod’s temple tenderly then continued. “There are so many old wounds, scars that have never properly healed. No one else can see them. No one else can tend those old hurts.”
Parker leaned back, lying on the bed and taking Jarod with her. With his head cushioned against her breast, Jarod closed his eyes and gave in to the feeling of security. He allowed the fear and anxiety he’d been suffering to fade away.
When his sniffles had subsided Jarod asked, “Now what?”
He could feel Parker’s soft chuckle. “Are you still angry with me?”
“No.”
“Well then,” she said. “The next part is easy. You apologize and we have make-up sex.”
Jarod lifted his head to gaze at her skeptically. “I apologize?” he asked.
“Yup.”
“As I recall, I wasn’t the only one yelling,” Jarod said.
“Maybe not,” Parker replied with a smile. “But if you want to get laid, you will ask for forgiveness.”
“That doesn’t seem exactly fair.”
“Tough.” Parker shrugged. “It’s the price you pay for getting seriously involved, Pez-head. I’ve got you by the you-know-what.” To demonstrate her point, Parker grabbed Jarod by the piece of anatomy in question.
“Oh!” he gasped in surprise.
Parker rolled over, flipping Jarod onto his back. She sat up, straddling his thighs as she looked down at him. With her tangled hair and disheveled appearance, Jarod thought she was the most desirable thing he ever seen in his life.
Leaning forward, Parker kissed Jarod’s lips. The kiss seemed full of love and promise. Parker’s hand moved erotically over him for a moment before abruptly squeezing. Jarod groaned, not sure if it was pleasure or pain that tore the sound from him.
“Where’s my apology?” she demanded.
Jarod laughed. He couldn’t help it. God, but he loved this woman. “Oh mistress of my universe,” he declared. “My royal highness, I beg thee. Forgive this wretched excuse of a man for being so unworthy of your presence.”
“Hmm,” Parker seemed to ponder for a moment before leaning in for another kiss. “Gotta love a man who knows his place.”
With a dramatic growl Jarod rolled, pinning Parker to the mattress beneath him. Parker’s laughter warmed his heart as Jarod began to nibble along the curve of her throat. After a long, languorous taste of her lips, Jarod leaned his forehead against Parker’s and sighed.
“I am sorry, Miss Parker,” he whispered with all seriousness.
“Me too,” she answered.
“I don’t ever want to fight with you again,” Jarod vowed.
Parker kissed him. “Don’t promise anything yet, Rat. You may change your mind when you find out how much fun making up can be.”
“It will take a lot to make me forget the misery of the last couple of hours,” Jarod said.
A sly smile spread across Parker’s face. “Hold that thought, love. We’ll discuss it in the morning.”
