Читать книгу Broken Hearts - Grace Monroe - Страница 9

She loved how he looked when they were having sex. Staring at him, with his arm muscles supporting his full weight, she couldn’t care less about whether or not she was getting what she wanted or needed. Instead she wondered how they looked together–what other people would think of them if they could see them at this moment.

Kelly Adams thought a lot about the opinions of others. She lay on her back beneath him and did what she could to satisfy Dr Graham Marshall’s every desire. Her jet black hair (straight out of a bottle) fanned out on the pillow, just as she’d arranged it. She lifted her legs higher round his shoulders as he growled and shut his eyes. Kelly was out of breath; this was bloody hard work, but it was worth it. She watched his body for signs that he was close to orgasm; every sinew in his neck tightening as he strained before the collapse came and he took his body out of hers. As his face came to rest on her shoulder, she made a few dramatic groans herself and gave quite an impressive shudder. To be honest, she’d never had an orgasm anyway, so she wasn’t quite sure how it should be, but men always appeared quite satisfied with what she’d learned from DVDs and magazines and friends. She wasn’t bothered–as long as he’d enjoyed himself, and as long as she could get him to herself, what else mattered?

Graham Marshall lay for a moment and listened to Kelly’s heart race with her exertions. His nose wrinkled at the smell of her deodorized sweat interlaced with too much sweet perfume. He stroked her skin lazily and peered across her thighs at the clock on the hotel bedside table. It was one in the afternoon. Marshall sat bolt upright and threw his feet onto the floor, making the springs in the bed creak. Kelly watched her naked lover walk towards the bathroom, picking up his sports bag on the way.

‘Please stay, Graham,’ she said, unable to conceal her neediness. She knew that he hated that sort of thing, but sometimes she just couldn’t help it. They were so good together, so perfect, and she just wanted him to recognize it. ‘Why don’t you take the afternoon off? Why don’t you stay with me? Please?’ she whimpered again.

‘I’ve got a consultation at two thirty,’ he replied without turning round, the coldness in his voice unmissable.

The hot water washed away the sweat he had just worked up and he ran his soapy hands over his firm pectorals, taking time to admire his own body. He towelled himself dry in the cramped hotel bathroom. Condensation from the shower had fogged up the mirror so he took the end of the towel and wiped the glass. Haunting blue eyes in a chiselled tanned face stared back out at him. Even he thought they looked cold. His mouth was thin and hard. Women were either seduced or cowed by it; the ones he liked best were both.

He rubbed his hands through his thick dark brown hair; artfully messy was the look he was going for. Everything was artful with Graham Marshall. When he eventually came out of the bathroom, Kelly was still naked. On more than one occasion she had tried to entice him back into bed after he was ready to leave. He knew she was trying to control him with sex–he also knew how unlikely it was that she would succeed.

‘Kelly, Kelly, Kelly,’ he whispered seductively as he moved towards her and sat down on the bed. She smiled at him, waiting for the words that would make her feel worthwhile, words that would recognize just how perfect and special she was. Graham Marshall paused, then bent down to tie his handmade shoes as he sat up and looked at Kelly, leaning forwards to face her. ‘This, this my darling…’ He twirled her hair around his fingers as she gazed at him. ‘This…is the last time I’ll be seeing you.’

Kelly jumped out of bed almost at the same time as he stood up, a stunned expression on her usually confident, unremarkable but mirror-perfect face. ‘You are joking. You are joking! Tell me you’re joking, Graham?’ she said, her voice cracking.

‘Why would I be?’ he asked, casually.

‘Because…because…well, why would you not see me again? What’s wrong with me? Why wouldn’t you want me? I just don’t understand,’ she whined.

He stopped halfway through fixing his tie and stared at her. ‘No. You probably don’t. But you see, Kelly, you do nothing for me. You look like a hundred other stupid tarts. You have no brain to speak of. You lie there like a dead fish when we’re in bed, only showing some sign of life when you remember that you have to pretend to be enjoying it. You’ve been convenient, I’ll give you that–but what are you exactly, Kelly? What are you?’ Marshall kept his back to her so she would not see his grin as he finished his speech.

‘What do you expect me to say? I don’t know what you want me to tell you,’ she said, pulling at her hair and pacing the room. He half turned and stared into her eyes, enjoying the play of emotions on her face. ‘Okay Let me give you something–your little eyes lit up there, didn’t they? You’re not bad to look at in an overdone, fake sort of way, and you have never asked for much really, but…’ he tapped his forefinger off his temple as he spoke, ‘…you’re stupid, stupid, stupid.’

Kelly’s mouth fell open. She glared at him for a moment before her jaw tightened with anger. ‘You bastard! You think you can use me, and then just decide it’s over?’ she spat, anger flushing her skin again. ‘I’ll tell your wife. I’m going to phone her now. Watch me.’ She reached into her handbag for her mobile. His laughter filled the room as he picked up his briefcase. ‘Why don’t you care? Why don’t you care, Graham? You’re joking…tell me you’re joking!’ Her fury passed swiftly, and there was a pleading note in her voice.

He shook his head. ‘Actually, I never joke.’

The smile slipped from his lips and he looked at her in a way that she’d seen before but always tried to ignore. This time it frightened Kelly and she stepped back and fell into the headboard. Graham Marshall prowled round the divan until he was standing over her. He studied her impassively for a second, in the manner of a lab technician observing an experiment. Suddenly, he grasped her ankle and painfully twisted her leg until she was face down on the wrinkled sheets. He took a moment to admire the length of her neck and the curve of her shoulder as she cried out in agony. He ran his free hand through her long black hair, and then he pulled it so hard that a clump came out in his hand, exposing a small patch of bleeding scalp. Her body trembled as he flipped her over onto her back again, still holding her leg.

‘I will only say this once.’ He spoke to her slowly, as if she was incapable of taking in anything but the most simple of messages. ‘You will never phone my wife.’ He yanked her hair again. ‘What will you never do?’ he asked. The smile had returned to his lips.

‘Phone your wife,’ she said, trying to keep the fear from her voice, hoping that he’d just hear obedience. ‘I will never phone your wife.’

He caressed her cheek with his forefinger. ‘Be a good girl and tell me why you will not contact my wife.’ He spoke slowly and clearly, enunciating every syllable. He twisted her ankle again; she winced in pain as the tears streamed down her face.

‘I won’t phone…I promise I won’t phone.’ It was hard for Kelly to speak as she was sobbing so loudly.

‘You didn’t listen to me,’ he whispered, squeezing the fingers on her left hand now that he had let go of her leg.

‘I won’t phone!’

‘Tell me why.’ His voice was soft and understanding.

‘I’m a good girl and you told me not to.’ Kelly tried to smile as the excruciating pain coming from her fingers threatened to make her lose consciousness. Had he broken them? ‘I always do what you want…please stop hurting me.’

He let go of her and kissed her–gently–on the forehead.

‘Not bad,’ he smiled. ‘But a smarter reply would be that you won’t do anything to piss me off because I can hurt you–really, really hurt you.’ He crouched down beside Kelly and opened his briefcase. He paused for a moment, his back to the shaking woman, before taking out a scalpel. The blade shone so that he could see his own reflection in it. He placed the tip of the blade to his own cheek and closed his eyes at the coldness of it. ‘Really, really hurt you,’ he repeated, never taking his eyes off her as he put the scalpel back in his briefcase and walked away from the bed. Kelly wrapped herself in the duvet, trembling. He watched her reflection in the hotel window as he adjusted his tie. Could he convince her that this had all been a sick joke? Would she open her legs for him again? There was no doubt she would–she was dim to the core and she was crazy about him. These thoughts caused him to grin, and for a moment he played with the image of Kelly grateful to have him back because he was right–she was stupid.

‘You know, the room is paid for…you should rest, stay till the morning if you wish,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry,’ Kelly cried. ‘Please come back after your consultation! Please! I’ll be good, I promise!’ she pleaded, but he was already on his way down the corridor.

The cold air hit him as soon as he left the hotel. The sky looked threatening, dark grey snow clouds rolling in over the Firth of Forth. He turned off the alarm on his black Porsche. Maybe one day he would do something for Kelly. Something delicious, a reminder, a keepsake. He drove off, smirking with expectation.

Maybe she was a good girl after all.