Bodice Ripper, Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Sarah’s head cleared a little, enough for her to realize that she was straddling the lap of a man who she had previously turned down in every way she knew how, the lap of a man who drove her absolutely insane. It was also the lap of the wrong man.

The strange thing was, she didn’t particularly care.

In theory, Jareth Corbett and the Goblin King were the same man, but it was the Goblin King who had mercilessly teased her, Jareth had just been the convenient outlet for that tension and anger. And yet… If they truly were the same person, then it didn’t particularly matter whose lap she ended up in, did it? Why treat one any different from the other? If the Goblin King had done it, then it stood to reason that Jareth had the capacity to do the same, even, arguably, the desire to do the same.

She burrowed her face into the crook of his shoulder, thinking. Was keeping them separate in her mind keeping them separate in reality? Was the catalyst she needed simply in action rather than memory, to treat the two halves as the same person in order to make them the same person? Sarah groaned, confused, frustrated, and yes, she admitted to herself, still decidedly horny.

Jareth frowned down at the woman in his arms. “That wasn’t a good groan. You’re thinking, aren’t you?” He let out a dramatic sigh. “Thinking is bad for the libido. Kiss me.”

She shook her head, dark hair falling over his shoulder and whispering down his arm. It felt nice, inviting even; that hair was just begging his fingers to curl around the silky strands, to pamper, to pet… to use as leverage in order to angle her head properly.

“Nothing is ever simple with you, is it?” Sarah let out a frustrated huff that ghosted over his neck in the most deliciously distracting way.

“What’s so complicated?” came Jareth’s immediate, strained reply. “You just put your lips over mine and we’ll work it out from there.” She was definitely thinking, he decided, only a thinking woman would ignore such an invitation from a man she obviously desired.

She shook her head again, glossy locks trailing up his arm as she sat up straight. “I think you have amnesia,” she said suddenly, looking him in the eye so that he could see her sincerity.

Jareth stared at her oddly for a moment, the replied, “And I think you have intimacy problems. Let’s screw.” Forget seduction, he wanted inside this woman’s pants and he wanted there now. His finer parts were in serious danger of suffocating in pants that were much too tight. Her wiggling bottom and lusciously stimulating assets were not helping.

Sarah choked on a laugh. “I can’t believe you just said that! Are you always so bold-faced?”

He brought his hands up to cover her own, still resting on his shoulders. Head cocked, he replied, “I know what I want from this world, minx, and have a tendency to go after it with single-minded intensity. So yes, I am always this bold-faced; perhaps not usually so crude, but the intent is there.” He rolled hips that were still being hugged by her knees. “Besides, you have to admit, you did start it. Can’t blame a man for wanting to finish it.”

She seemed to fight a quick battle within herself and, he cursed, it was a struggle that her basic instincts apparently lost. “I’m serious,” she said breathily, “we’ve met before, and you don’t remember even the tiniest thing about it.”

“Then let’s make new memories,” he replied lightly, ducking his head to nip at the underside of her jaw.

“Jareth,” she growled warningly, rearing back enough to prevent him from his goal.

“And you say I’m being difficult,” he muttered. Damn it all, how was it this woman could blow so hot and cold? Here he was, nearly lost to higher reasoning, and she was trying to have a conversation. It was cruel that women could remain so levelheaded in their desire; he had no control over where his blood supply decided to wander, and it was a damn shame she wasn’t more sympathetic to that fact. “Do we really have to talk?” he asked, sounding dangerously like a pouting teenager.

Sarah nearly snickered at his whine, it was just so childish and… endearing. Poor man, she laughed to herself; she really could sympathize, he’d done it to her in the dream, after all. A wicked part of her was pleased that she’d been able to return the favor. “If we talk,” she soothed, smoothing a hand down his cheek, “that means spending more time together.” He snorted, as if to say he knew of a much better way to spend time. “But not right now,” she amended, shooting off his lap, “I have a shop to run.”

Jareth’s hand closed about her wrist as she tried to walk passed his chair. “You’re still ill, and in no condition to work.”

“My fever is gone,” she protested, trying to shake his steely grasp.

He shook his head, managing to make her feel as though he was looking down his nose at her even though she was the one actually looking down. “That doesn’t make you completely better.”

No, it didn’t, she agreed silently, but she couldn’t afford to take time off, not with how poorly her profit margin had been doing lately. Guilt-trip him, she decided, men usually backed down from that. “So I’m well enough for you to consider having sex with, but not to work?” she taunted. “Double standards, Jareth. If you really care about my health then you can’t approve of whichever is most convenient; it’s all or nothing.”

He growled low in his throat, a sound that sent up warning signs for her to run and hide, but he released her wrist. “Why do you always have to fight me?”

Sarah tried to hide her grin at his purely male irritation. “It worked out rather well for me last time, feather-boy; why mess with a good thing?”
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Byron grinned at the girl’s cheekiness; she was certainly a spitfire. She’d mentioned Jareth having amnesia, did that mean she knew he was the Goblin King? It would make his work a lot easier if that were the case; it meant that she would see him in the event that Jareth couldn’t. Perhaps she would even be sympathetic, and there was no quicker way to get things done than have active help from a human that the Goblin King was attached to.

Quickly, quietly, Byron decided to followed her.
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“No,” Didymus refused for what felt like the thousandth time. “I agreed to help you with Jareth, no more. If something must be done about Lady Sarah, then it will not be by my hand.”

Hoggle stopped his irritated pacing. “Damn it, Didymus; your oath of duty is older and more important than your desire to protect Sarah! Or have you had a change of heart?”

“I will do what must be done to secure our goal, but I will not hurt her,” the lanky knight replied calmly.

“Who said anything’s going to hurt her?” the dwarf demanded.

Didymus shook his head sadly. “Destiny’s wheels often turn in places that we can ill afford them. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he’s managed to find her again.”

“You’re a damned fool, Ciren Didymus,” Hoggle said quietly. “A damned fool with romance on the brain.”

His companion shrugged, but remained resolute.

“Fine,” the shorter man snapped, relenting, “I’ll do it, just make sure you keep an eye on Jareth. We need as much space between them as possible.” He scrubbed a hand over his tired face, “If the Wise Man is right, and Jareth’s magic really is starting to break free, then we don’t have much time to set things right.”

You always where a troublemaker Jareth, Hoggle thought to himself as he left Didymus’ room in search of his own, you never did learn how to stay away from the fire when it mattered most.
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An hour later found Sarah sitting behind the familiar service counter of her store. She had showered at Jareth’s and was currently wearing her day-old pants and one of his shirts, the sleeves rolled up several times so that she could find her hands. The soft linen was comfortable and well worn, but she felt a little ridiculous in what was obviously not her own clothing. Honestly, the man couldn’t have driven her home to let her change? He had taken way too much joy out of lending her that shirt, and she still wasn’t sure if it was because he was trying to stake some sort of visual claim or if he just really loved making her uncomfortable.

They had visited her car, still on the side of the road and still refusing to work. Once she had gotten to a phone, Sarah had called a tow-truck and was currently waiting for news on the state of her vehicle. Jareth was already anticipating the worst, or just being bossy, because he had informed her that he would come around to drive her home that evening.

Business had been slow so far that morning, not a soul in the store. She was almost wishing she hadn’t thrown Jareth out to do… whatever it was he did with his time. It was strange how his company was suddenly starting to seem normal; after all, she had only known him for a few days, had once feared him like nothing else (and on some levels, still did), and always seemed to have her back up around him. This was the same man who had once put her through hell, who had invited himself into her life, and stolen the key to her backdoor so that she would never be able to shut him out. On the other hand he was also the same man who had fueled her teenage fantasies, who had a latent ability to draw her to him; he was dead sexy and wickedly interesting, and Sarah was nothing, if not curious. It had always been her downfall, curiosity; she was Pandora in modern form. Things hadn’t ended on the best note between them with the Labyrinth, and she couldn’t help but wonder if a second chance wasn’t really such a bad idea. She’d never been so curious about a man, and if circumstances had been different ten years ago she would have been sorely tempted by his offers.

So, he came on a little strong. So, his intentions weren’t exactly noble. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy his company, did it? And what sort of fool would she be to let the same intriguing opportunity slip by twice? Alright, so the circumstances were vastly different and she had the self-assigned mission of restoring his memory, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make the best of things. Who was she to argue when life decided to hand her an ex-king who wrote erotica for a living?
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Her car was dead. Deceased. Beyond repair.

“Maybe you could hire yourself a voodoo priestess to resurrect it?” Elizabeth Carver tried to joke.

Sarah looked up at her friend. “Liz, I now own the world’s largest paperweight. The engine seized, I don’t even think voodoo could help this one.”

She watched as Liz shuffled nervously, then leaned over the counter to stop her fidgeting. “It’s not all bad, is it? I mean, you did want to get a new car, now you have the reason!” It was almost sad how the perky blond was trying to put a light spin on things.

“But I don’t have the money,” Sarah sighed, “not if I want to repair the roof on my house before the decade is out.”

“You could always get yourself a boyfriend to take care of you,” Liz skillfully changed the subject.

Sarah groaned. “Don’t even joke, Carver. I apparently have a pseudo-boyfriend who I’m sure would be more than happy to take charge pf my personal affairs.”

Liz brightened up and grinned impishly. “So things are progressing with the new neighbor, then?”

“Without my knowledge or consent,” Sarah replied dryly. “Don’t get me wrong, Lizzy; I am curious, but he moves fast and we have some… unresolved issues between us.”

“You’ve known the guy for all of, what? Two, three days? And you already have unresolved issues?” Liz asked incredulously. “Resolve them, Sarah. I don’t know what it is or how you have to work through it, just get over these ‘issues’. You won’t stay young forever, you know, and I’m rather tired of seeing you alone.”

Sarah let out a heavy sigh. “He has blatant commitment issues, honey; we’re looking at a fling here, not undying love.” And yet, she couldn’t forget what the Goblin King had told her: He will never let you go. How was it that one half of the man made it clear that tomorrow was never a certainty, while the other half demanded no less than eternity. She wanted to see where life would take her, but it was hard to know how to act when she was afraid to engage her heart for fear of pain, and yet afraid to withhold it for fear of causing pain. “He’s just looking for some rough and tumble.”

“Don’t knock it, girlie,” Liz cautioned, “maybe that’s all he wants right now, but you never know how that might change. Don’t be shutting doors before you even know what could lay on the other side.”

Sarah raised a brow. “You’re suggesting I counter-seduce him?”

“I’m suggesting you get him addicted to you,” the blond amended. “Spend some more time with him, and if you really like him then find a way to become his favorite drug; make it so that he can barely even breathe without you by his side. He might be a guy darling, but he’ll figure out who he belongs to sooner or later.” She interestedly eyed the masculine shirt that Sarah was wearing, then added, “Or vice-versa. Wearing his clothes already? Doesn’t seem like there’s anything pseudo about this relationship to me.”

“There was an incident,” Sarah began.

Liz cut her off, “I hope it involved some sweaty and naked limbs.”

“I didn’t,” Sarah snapped defensively. “I needed a clean shirt to wear, and he’s moronically territorial for someone who doesn’t want to enter into a real relationship.”

“So you admit that you spent the night, then?” Elizabeth wheedled.

“This conversation’s done,” Sarah stated decisively. “Yes, I spent the night; no, it’s not what you think. You’ll probably be the first to know if anything happens, Liz, but don’t go making up stories where nothing happened.”

“Worried about town gossip?” Liz waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Sarah snorted, and began to shoo her friend off. “I said this conversation is done. Now leave me to mourn the passing of my car in peace.”