“It’s over,” she said, gripping the back of the sofa to stay upright, since her knees weren’t co-operating. “You know it’s over. Don’t do this.”
“You’re too tired to watch the film. I can understand that. So get that nightie off and get to bed. I want to make love to my wife—that’s my right. It’s time you had a little reminder of what you’ve been missing. God, I’m going to make you scream.”
“No,” she cried, and all she could think of to do was run. Run far and fast away from him.
She made a bolt for the front door, but he caught up with her in two strides and dragged her wrist away from the handle.
“Get off me, get off me,” she sobbed, but he pinned her in the door frame, towering over her, his breath sour and whisky-smelling.
“Come on, Ness,” he growled. “You don’t mean that. Have you forgotten the way we were? Like a pair of horny animals, doing it anywhere and everywhere. Remember that day we fucked eight times? Your poor sore little pussy. And my cock, smeared with blood. We had to stick to oral for a week. Do you remember that?”
“That was before,” she said, struggling to release herself from his pinion. “Before I realised what you really were.”
“Before you went cold on me,” said Dafydd, pressing harder.
Vanessa knew that grip. It was just tight enough to hold her, but not so tight as to cause bruises. He was an expert in that.
“Before you started raping me,” she said, and she spat in his face.
He stared at her so murderously that she felt faint. Then he transferred both of her wrists to the clamp of one hand and wiped her gesture from his cheek, slowly and deliberately.
“Rape is a strong word, Ness,” he said.
“It’s a strong thing. A terrible thing. A crime.”
“Yet you never reported it.”
“You know how the law stood back then. Marital rape wasn’t recognised. But if you touch me now, so help me God, I’ll be down to that police station so fast…”
“Ness.” He put a finger on her lips, sealing them. “I’m not a rapist.”
She shook her head to indicate her disagreement, struggling even harder against his inexorable power.
“I’m not going to give you anything you don’t want,” he said. “But I want to show you that you’re not being honest with yourself. You think you don’t want me, but you do. You want us again. You want what we had. Think of it, Ness. It was the best time of our lives.”
She tried to bite his finger and he removed it, leading her back into the living room and sitting her down on the sofa while he knelt in front of her, holding her by the backs of her legs.
“Look at me,” he said. “I’m on my knees before you. I want you. I love you. You’re my wife. Give me a second chance.”
“You haven’t earned one,” she said flatly. The phone still lay on the mantelpiece. If she could just get him to let go of her… Now that she knew he wasn’t going to rape her, she felt a little more level-headed. At least he was too interested in self-preservation to risk the consequences of that particular horrific crime.
But it didn’t mean she was safe. Not yet. She was going to have to carry on blanking his advances whilst trying not to rouse his temper too high.
“I’ll earn it. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said. “Couldn’t you at least finish it with that dweeby drummer? I can’t bear to see you with him. He’s just not man enough for you, Ness. You deserve a real man.”
“Real men don’t rape women.”
“For God’s sake, can’t we let bygones be bygones? I’m sorry about all that, truly I am.”
Something about this blatant falsehood brought Vanessa back to indignant life.
“You fucking liar,” she exclaimed. “You’ll say anything to get your own way, but you aren’t sorry, not at all. You’d do it again if you could get away with it. Well, thank fuck for DNA testing and forensic science, that’s all I can say, because if it weren’t for them I’d be lying on the bed covered in bruises right now. Don’t you dare try to deny it.”
Some of the concentrated evil went out of his face. Her words had struck home.
He sat back on his heels, still holding on to her legs.
“You really do hate me, don’t you?” he said, mournfully, as if expecting sympathy.