Free Who Are You? by Elizabeth Forbes Page A

hadn’t taken advantage of the situation. She should appreciate him. He gets between the sheets and lies on his back, thinking, or rather trying to control his thoughts. There are tricks he’s learned which help. Focus on the minutiae, remember … think back to this morning. Getting up, going to the bathroom, the journey to the office. The day’s business. What did you have for lunch, Alex? Focus … What calls did you make? What meetings did you plan? Christmas – think about your mother’s arrival. The tree you’ve promised to Ben tomorrow. The visit to the country’s most expensive garden centre, the ritual of getting the box of decorations from the big oak coffer. The moment you discover whether the lights will light or not. Juliet saying: I told you we should have bought a new set. Focus. Focus on all these things and then you won’t think. He turns onto his side and strains his ears for any sound of movement downstairs. Harder – he concentrates so hard that it seems the cavity in his ears is growing bigger, hollow caves sucking in every microscopic wave of sound, and he thinks he can hear tapping, almost rhythmical, like the sounds of rodent feet scurrying across floorboards. Then it stops. There’s silence again. He thinks about Juliet, he thinks about Caroline’s stockings. Marcus Hunt’s frightened face. He thinks about Ben. And Ben’s fear. And then he stops himself … the tapping starts up again … the rodent dance. But it’s not rodents, its fingers on a keyboard. Alex gets out of bed, pulls on his silk robe and goes down the stairs as quietly as he can, stealthily, just like a cat would stalk a mouse. There’s a faint glow of light coming from Ben’s door, which isn’t quite closed. He pushes it open and sees Juliet look up. Her face is lit by the reflection from the laptop screen.
    ‘Come to bed,’ he tells her.
    ‘No. I’m watching Ben. I’m going to stay here tonight.’ She keeps her eyes fixed on her screen.
    Alex feels his temper rising. This is not good. Things can get ugly. Instead of raising his voice, he lowers it. ‘I said come to bed. ’ He walks over to her, takes the laptop from her hands and snaps the lid shut. Then he takes her hand, pulls her out of the chair and says, ‘Good girl. Come on. Don’t worry, Ben will be fine.’
    Back in their bedroom, he says, ‘Shall I unzip you?’ She doesn’t reply.
    He slides the zip down to where it ends just above the cleavage between her buttocks. He pushes the shoulders of the dress down to her elbows so that the dress slips towards the floor. She steps out of it. She’s wearing tights.
    ‘What are these?’ He asks.
    ‘They’re tights.’
    ‘I hate tights.’
    ‘I know that.’
    ‘But you still wore them.’
    ‘Yes, I still wore them. I’m not your fucking doll, Alex.’
    ‘You are my doll, my little girl doll that I can do with whatever I please.’
    ‘I am not !’ She hisses.
    ‘Take them off!’
    She looks at him defiantly, and then with a sigh of defeat she pulls the tights down and steps out of them. Alex grabs her hand and pulls her over to the bed, then pushes her onto her back. The bedside lights are still switched on so he can see her face quite clearly. That light in those iceberg eyes – it’s fear, he knows that. But it’s also arousal. He knows that she loves the edge, the riskiness, the never knowing what to expect. That’s why she’ll never get bored of him. She’s still got her bra and pants on. ‘I like seeing those new babies of yours shown off, like they’re framed, presented for me,’ he says, as his hands explore her, pushing her knickers down her legs and pulling them free. She closes her eyes. He kisses her lips lightly, then her cheek, then his mouth is next to her ear: ‘I love you, Juliet Miller. Never forget that.’
    Juliet opens her eyes and he smiles down at her, and then as he enters her he can feel her body start to tremble. He knows she wants him; she needs him. They