"C'mon John," Grace leans forward a little and swipes her tongue across his earlobe. John shudders, his heart pounding in his chest and his body aflame with need for her. "You want me. You want to take me right now," she hooks one leg around his calf and presses up against him. John can feel the long leather boots through the denim of his jeans and it's only making things worse. "So why don't you?"
He's unable to answer as she smothers any thought of a reply with a kiss that swamps him in lust. Reaching down, he slides his fingers along the underside of her thigh and draws it upwards. Grace uses his grip to gain some purchase and before he realizes what has happened, her legs are wrapped around his hips and he is kissing her like his life depends on it.
"That's it," Grace purrs against his ear as he buries his face in her neck, his lips hot against her skin. "What do you want to do to me baby?"
"Doc," John groans, trying to fight his attraction to her.
"No talking John," she whispers, "it just gets you into trouble."
She kisses him again but when he tries to pull away from her kiss, she nips at his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "Now *you're* being a bad boy..." she says in a huskily erotic voice. However, it seems she's misjudged her tactics as John tenses.
"Enough Marlena!" He disentangles himself from her and sets her down. "What the *hell* do you think you're playing at?"
With the hint of a smile, Grace shrugs and walks away. She's not about to give John the pleasure of getting her upset. Not when he's so obviously jumped off the deep end himself. "*DAMMIT*, *answer* me!" He stalks after her and catches her arm, swinging her back around to face him.
"Whatever do you mean?" she asks.
"Christ, would you stop playing with me!" John feels the fury growing inside him. Face to face with her now he wonders how he could have ever thought that she was Marlena. She's nothing like the woman he loves. She's hard and calculating and it seems that she doesn't care who she hurts. Or rather, the more people she hurts, the better. "Abe told me about *Wesley*, and now I find you here with that punk..."
"I think a little turn about is fair play, don't you?" she replies snippily, a touch of bitterness swelling in her words.
"God, it's *hardly* the same thing!" John throws his hands up in the air.
"Oh no, that's right, thanks for refreshing my memory," Grace retorts, with acid delight. "You screwed Hope after pledging your undying love to me in a wedding ceremony in front of all our friends and family. I, on the other hand, was betrayed by you. I'm now separated from you and filing for divorce and I think a little bit of fun is merely what the doctor ordered. Different?" She smiles wickedly. "I guess so."
John is deflated by her argument and his guilt takes the edge off his anger. "Maybe. But where does it stop, Marlena?" he asks, the name sticking in his throat. It's not easy to call her by Marlena's name, but he doesn't want to raise her suspicions. "When is it that I've been punished enough?"
"Is there such a thing as enough?" she narrows her eyes as she pulls from his grip. "Anyway, why shouldn't I enjoy myself? You did, after all, hmmm?"
"I barely even *remember* it," John says exasperatedly as he watches her pour herself a martini. Marlena barely drinks, let alone knows how to fix a martini with such care, and the sight of this creature behaving so unlike his Doc suddenly leaves him breathless and aching.
He misses her so much it's like a physical pain. It's as though someone has torn out half his heart and left him with a raw, gaping wound in its stead.
"I'm sure you remember Olivia." Grace turns back to him. "Yvette. Diana." She takes a mouthful of her martini. "Oh and of course I *know* you remember dear, *sweet* Isabella. And Kristen." The sarcasm that laces her words is scything.
"What the hell does that have to do...?" John's brow creases as he tries to figure this comment into the very little he knows of this woman. "Honey, you know that *none* of them compares to how I feel about you. Not even IzzyB."
"How very tragic for you then." Grace chuckles as she walks towards the stairs. "Seeing as I'm divorcing your pathetic ass."
"I haven't said I'm signing the papers." John raises one eyebrow. "What makes you think I'm going to agree to a divorce?"
"You don't have any choice, *honey*." Grace turns and looks back over her shoulder at him. "You see John, I'm going to be leaving Salem shortly. I think it's best this way, don’t you? At least then, we can both move on with our lives. Just think..." she grins nastily, "if Hope pulls through you could try for another demon spawn."
The last comment is enough to break John's resolve and he crosses the living room in several steps and tears the drink from her hand and pitches it against the wall, where it shatters noisily. Wrapping steely fingers around her wrists he pulls her close to him.
"I'm not letting you go, Marlena. I won't let you do this. I *need* you." John can only hope that Marlena is still somewhere inside and that he can reach her. That she can feel his love and his fear for her. "Stop the fucking games and *talk* to me about how you're feeling for God's sake. I want to *hear* the anger and the pain. I want to hear it all and then maybe we can sort this thing out."
"You don't *get* that privilege any more John," Grace fights back, tearing her hands from his grip, as angry with herself as she is at him. She had promised herself that she wouldn't let him upset her and here she is once again, feeling uncomfortable and irate. "I'm not having this conversation with you, so you'd better get used to that idea."
"I'm *never* going to get used to that idea," he replies passionately. "You should *know* that about me, Marlena. I'm never going to willingly let you go. You mean *everything* to me."
"You're a *liar*!" She shouts as she lashes out, her open palm connecting with his cheek. "Get the fuck *out* of my house!"
"I'm not going *anywhere*," John grabs her wrist again and backs her up against the wall. "I know you still love me, Doc. The mere fact that you're so damn angry with me is enough to prove that. What on earth makes you think I'd give up on you, knowing that?"
"I don't love you." Grace's lips thin as she glowers at him. "You killed that, John. You killed any love I ever had for you when you screwed around on me."
"Uh-uh." John shakes his head. As much as she's not Marlena, he can sense a thread of the woman he loves within her and that gives him hope. Her emotions, although chaotic and an unknown quantity, seem real enough and he only has one option at this point. "You *do* still love me, Doc. You forget, I know you."
"You know *nothing*." Grace spits as he moves closer.
As much as she loathes him and intends to throw him out of the penthouse, she has never wanted him more than she does right now. Every nerve in her body screams with the impact of his proximity and she struggles not to let it show.
She fails miserably as he sandwiches her to the wall and slides his tongue between her willing lips. She whimpers softly and tips her head back slightly as he kisses her hard and she feels his hands slip from her wrists to her shoulders, his thumbs brushing lightly over her collarbones.
Drawing back slightly, John grins in victory. "You do still love me, baby and I'm not letting you go. Trust that."
Grace blinks rapidly, fury quickly replacing the lack of balance his kiss had provoked. "Screw you," she hisses as she pushes him backwards. Her eyes narrow as she tries to gather her composure.
"Not this time." He shakes his head, his eyes dark and unreadable. Reaching out, he draws his index finger softly over the curve of her cheek. "Not while we're both hurt and angry, that's not going to solve anything." He pauses as he sees the shiver that she tries so hard to hide and his mouth quirks in an odd haf-smile. "I'm going to go now. But I'll be back. You can count on it."
With that, and leaving Grace totally off-balance, he turns for the door. Grace stares after him for a moment, her heart pounding and a palpable rage swelling inside her. Her lips pale and thin, she storms after him as he opens the door.
"Sign those papers John and save us all a lot of misery." John turns around in the doorway to look at her and he reads a multitude of emotions in her eyes. Emotions he is not even sure she would admit to. Placing her hand on the door, she sneers at him. "Don't let it hit your ass on the way out."
John stiffens, wondering if he has pushed her too far. The last thing he wants to do is make her question the fact that he might suspect her true nature. And for all his superficial self-assurance, he is still terrified. Especially with the confirmation of her intended departure. It makes things all the more desperate and failure all the more imminent. But failure is the one outcome that he can't consider. To fail Marlena again is unthinkable.
Hiding his thoughts with an outwardly impassive expression, he leaves the penthouse, pausing to look at her from the open doorway.
"If you never believe another thing in your life Marlena, believe that I *love* you. I married you because I want to spend the rest of my life sharing everything with you. That will never change, even if you divorce me and even if you leave Salem. My love will always be with you. Running away is not going to change that fact." He smiles sadly. "I tried that once and I never even got off the ground, if you recall."
"Enough of the sob story," she rolls her eyes. "Just sign the damn papers." With that parting comment, she slams the door violently closed, not even waiting to see if John steps out of the way in time to avoid it.
John stares at the door as he hears the lock click into place and his stomach turns. He is fast running out of options. Between Abe and the police department and the knowledge that she is planning to leave, he is stuck between a rock and a hard place and playing safe isn't going to get him anywhere but in major trouble. He has to come up with a plan and he has to do it soon, or he's screwed. They all are.
Upstairs, in the penthouse, Grace slams the door in the bedroom and goes to the armoire. Pulling out a suitcase from the bottom, she throws it on the bed and yanks open the top drawers of the bureau. With furious determination, she begins to grab jewelry boxes from one of the drawers and dump them unceremoniously in the empty case. When the drawers are bare, she yanks them out of the chest and lets them crash on the floor. Pulling out the drawer below, she begins to collect handfuls of expensive lingerie and she flings them in the case.
After a while, her manic rage begins to subside and she looks at the case. An almost hysterical giggle bubbles up in her throat as she realizes just to what extent she has lost control of her emotions. It angers her that John can have such an effect on her and the fact that her first instinct is to run from him only makes it worse.
She had been sure that the stunt in the hotel room would be all it would take to break him, but he appears to be made of sterner stuff. And that both intrigues and alarms her. She has already allowed him to get too close and she is starting to think that maybe Stefano is right and she has underestimated him. And yet, despite all this, she can't seem to shake the growing desire she feels for him. He does things to her body that she has never felt before and it bothers her.
And not only that. To her surprise, she realizes that she can't seem to predict his next move. Not like, say Craig, who was the epitome of obvious. She's lost control of this situation and while she knows that she should get out before things get completely out of hand, she rather perversely finds herself more and more tempted to stay and play the game with him. Aside from Stefano, she has never come up against a man who provides such a challenge. It galls her that it should be John Black of all people and it has forced her to respect a man she would rather despise.
She needs to control him, to dominate him. The desire to see him crawling at her feet, begging for her to throw him a crumb almost overwhelms the need to escape the dreariness of Salem. The challenge of breaking him, of seeing him bend to her will, would almost be worth her staying. If only it weren’t for the damned police and their tiresome investigation of Lamont's death.
Sighing, she begins to rearrange the contents of the suitcase. She still has to pack; they will be leaving Salem inside forty-eight hours if everything goes according to plan.
A box in the suitcase catches her eye and she pulls it out and opens it. Nestled inside is a charm bracelet. It seems a strange keepsake but one that she assumes is in line with Marlena's sentimental nature. She rolls her eyes but still she fingers the charms, wondering what banal significance Marlena attached to such baubles.
-- No, not just charms. Those are good luck charms for your second chance at life --
Her eyes widen slightly and she drops the bauble as though it has sent a jolt of electricity through her fingers. Her throat is suddenly dry and palms clammy with sweat as she looks at the offending jumble of gold.
--...and we have an angel, for protection and guidance...--
Trembling, Grace snatches up the bracelet and tucks it back into the box, snapping the lid closed almost violently. Wrenching open the top drawer of her dresser, she stuffs it inside and then closes it.
Gritting her teeth, she does her best to tuck the unwelcome memories into a forgotten corner of her mind as she heads downstairs to pour herself a very stiff martini.