Beauty and Pain Read Free Page A

ago. I’d forgone breakfast and nipped to the buffet carriage to grab a muesli bar and a drink. Whilst paying I’d noticed there was a storeroom, tagged onto the back of the carriage, with its door wide open for anyone to just wander into and, so I’d thought, help themselves to any number of sugary snacks.
    “The toilet is far too small,” I said. “But there is one option.”
    “Go on.” A spark of interest lit his dark eyes and his brow creased.
    “No, come on. This way.” I stood. “I’ll show you.”
    My coat swept behind me as I made my way down the aisle and gripped the odd headrest for balance. I didn’t bother to turn and check whether Gabriel was following me. I knew damn well he would be.
    My strides were so long, so doggedly determined, that my stocking tops were on show with each step, my skirt having ridden up and the flap of my coat flicking at my knees.
    A couple of old codgers and a prim-looking woman stared, but only for the seconds it took me to reach the automatic door to the next carriage.
    It slid open with a swoosh, and I could tell by the amount of time it took to close again that he was right behind me. I would have loved to sneak a glance at his face, see if he held his chin high and his lips tight. Were arousal, excitement and anticipation written plainly on his handsome features, or did he simply look like he was following a stranger on his way to grab a cup of tea and a bacon butty?
    The buffet carriage was empty of customers, as was usually the case at this point of the route. The train had journeyed from much farther west and it was the early commuters who purchased their first meal of the day onboard—not so much us, with only half an hour to go into central London.
    A member of staff had his back to us, refilling a coffee machine with water, and I went onto my toes slightly so that my heels didn’t tap and alert him to my presence. Though it wouldn’t have mattered, the ever-present clack-clack, clack-clack of the rails provided an appreciated cover noise.
    I spotted the same door I’d seen previously.
    Damn, it was shut.
    I could only send a quick prayer heavenwards that it wasn’t locked. That would really scupper my plans if it was.
    The member of staff was out of view now, hidden by a thin wall that gave him privacy to sit down, wash dishes, prepare sandwiches—I didn’t know and it wasn’t any of my concern.
    I reached the handle and turned to Gabriel. He was close behind me. There was a little color on his cheeks. He tugged at his bottom lip, not the center, but to the right a bit, and as he did so he appeared to hold in a naughty smile, like a kid about to fire a catapult or cherry knock a neighbor’s front door.
    I pushed down the handle, heart hammering, pussy clenching.
    Was I really doing this?
    Fuck, yes, I was. The door was unlocked.
    I slipped in. My stranger followed.
    He shut the door quickly behind us. I heard the click of a lock.
    “How very convenient,” he said. “A private, secure place for you to tell me a little more about your penchant for pain.”
    Just tell, not show? My stomach dropped a little. I’d been hoping for so much more than talk.
    “Turn around,” he said, gently facing me away from him by maneuvering my shoulders.
    I glanced at the small space. It wasn’t much bigger than if we had resorted to one of the toilets. But it smelled a whole lot better—chocolate, sugar and the lingering scent of coffee. There were two high windows letting in the watery autumn light, which filtered over the shelving units and a flat space covered in what appeared to be stock charts and Health and Safety notices.
    Gabriel’s body heat left me. The sense of loss was acute, but then I saw him hang his suit jacket up and hook it onto a peg holding several catering aprons.
    “Here,” he said, touching my collar. “Let me. I have a feeling it’s going to get hot in here.”

Chapter Three
    Oh, please, Lord, if it was going to get hot in here, let it