True Colours (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2) (5 page)

‘No,’ I squeak.

‘Never mind.  You will.’  He takes a step back.  ‘So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get started.’

‘Started?’ I gasp, still struggling to get my lungs back under control.  ‘On what?’

‘My agenda.  We’re going to talk things through.  And then we’re going to sort things out.  And then I’m going to fuck the living daylights out of you.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that.’  I straighten my dress.

‘I would.’ He withdraws another step.  ‘Now, why don’t I make you that coffee?’

I glare at his self-assured smile for a good ten seconds before I push past him, huffing my way over to a sofa, muttering obscenities under my breath.  While he sets about making me an unwanted cup of coffee, I take off my shoes, tuck my legs under my bottom and fold my arms across my lap.  Watching the rain lash against the windows, I listen to the sound of water gurgling, the chink of a teaspoon.  At last, he appears in front of me and offers me a mug.  Reluctantly, I take it, holding it in both hands and curling my fingers around the sides.

‘Well?’ I probe.

‘Well what?’  With a mug of his own, he positions himself on the coffee table, right in front of me.

‘Item number one.  Talking things through.’

‘You’re going to listen?’

‘What choice do I have?’

Resigned to the fact that I’ve just got to grit my teeth and get on with it, the sensible half of my brain finally seems to have calmed down.  And if the idiot half wasn’t currently wavering, swamping itself with visions of sweaty bodies thrashing about on a bed, I’d definitely have the upper hand.

He chews at his bottom lip and stares at the floor.  The show’s clearly over for now.  He’s locked me in, whacked me with a good dose of the arrogant, womanising arse and kissed my face off.  And fair play to him.  He’s done pretty well with the shock and awe, but now that we’re down to the nitty gritty, he doesn’t seem quite so sure of himself.  And I’m beginning to melt.

‘Would you like to get started?’ I ask, breaking the silence.

He shakes his head.  ‘I don’t know where to start.’

‘How about with the deception thing?’

‘I told you.  I didn’t mean to.’

‘Not good enough.’

‘Maya, when I realised who you were, I lost all reason ...’

‘That’s not making me feel any better.’

‘I know you hate me at the moment.’

‘I don’t hate you.’  His head flicks up, his features softened by a look of hope.  ‘I pity you.’

His forehead creases.  ‘I don’t want pity.’

‘Not for the way you grew up.  I pity you because you wanted revenge.  That’s pathetic.’

He stares at me, his eyes suddenly cold.  ‘Can you honestly tell me you’ve never wanted it?’

I think of Sara.  Oh God, I’ve wanted it so many times.  In fact, if memory serves me right, only last week I paraded Dan in front of her while she was at her lowest ebb.

‘I should never have told you,’ he mutters.

‘But you did.’

He stares at me some more.

‘I’m no angel.  I have faults.’  He places his mug on the table.  ‘It was a few moments of madness.’

Now, that’s not quite right.

‘A few moments?  When did you first find out about me?’

‘Friday,’ he answers quietly.  ‘I saw your file on Friday.’

‘And you had me moved to Norman’s office?’

‘Yes.’

‘And then you called me on Monday, and then you ordered me up to that meeting.  I’d say that’s more than just a few moments of madness.’  My voice is rising now.  ‘That’s four fucking days’ worth of it.’

‘Okay,’ he snaps, sending a jolt right through my body and coffee spilling all over the plush cream sofa.  ‘Maybe it was more than that.’  Glaring into my eyes, he struggles to calm himself.  ‘Happy now?’

‘You used me.’

‘Oh, get real.’  He grimaces.  ‘That’s not true.’

‘You used me to get back at Sara.’

‘Think about it, Maya.  I did not use you.’

Pushing himself up from the table, he prowls to the window.  With his back to me, he folds his arms and stares out at the Thames.

‘Whatever happened, I wouldn’t have gone through with it.  I’m not that sort of man … not deep down.  I’ve never done anything like that in my life.’  His head dips.  ‘I would have come to my senses sooner or later.  I don’t even know what made me think like that in the first place.’

He drifts off into silence and I wish I could see his face.  Both of us know what made him think like that: my sister’s relentless bullying, a miserable childhood, the past we share.  I’m about to tell him as much when he begins to speak again, more quickly this time, as if he’s trying to force out the words before he loses the strength to do it.

‘I found out who you were on Friday afternoon.  I organised the swap because I wanted you near me.  And then I spent the weekend …’

He pauses and I wonder what on Earth he’s going to say next.  Plotting how to use you?  Planning how to destroy you?  When his answer finally comes, it throws me.

‘Pissed out of my head.  Trying not to think at all.  It was a fucking miracle I sobered up by Monday morning.’  I hear him blow out a breath.  ‘I walked in that day.  I knew you’d be in the lobby at nine.  I timed it so that I could see you but you had your back to me.  You were filling in a form.  I don’t know what I expected to happen when I saw you, but I certainly didn’t expect ...’

‘What?’

He turns.  ‘You were wearing a tiny strip of material that could barely pass as a skirt.  I rode the lift up to my office with the biggest hard-on of my life.’

I feel my lips begin to curve upwards.  No, no, no.  This isn’t good at all.  They’re breaking ranks.  This is a serious conversation, and I’m smiling at his crassness.

‘I called you because I wanted to hear your voice.  I had you come to the meeting because I wanted to see you properly.’  He pauses, weighing up his next words.  ‘You took my breath away as soon as I laid eyes on you.’

I’m thinking back to that meeting now, to his cold greeting.  Good God, if that’s taking someone’s breath away, then I’m a monkey’s aunt.

‘You covered it up well.’

‘I’m good at that sort of thing.’

As he moves back towards me, my body prickles with anticipation.  He comes to a halt in front of the sofa, reaching down, taking the mug from me and placing it next to his own before he positions himself back on the edge of the coffee table.  He leans forwards and rests his elbows on his knees.

‘Right from the start, I knew I was in trouble.  I was a complete fucking mess.’  He pauses, watching for my reaction.  ‘You do that to me, Maya.  You turn me inside out.  You’re in here.’  He touches his head.  ‘Every single minute of the day.  I need to fix this.’

I’m already captivated by the flecks of copper dancing around his pupils, the layers of dark blue that permeate his irises.  They’re pleading with me now, those eyes, and I just want to fall into his arms.  Reaching out, he takes my hand in his, triggering the same electrical charge that pulsates through me every single time we’re in contact.  Logic won’t last long.  I know that.  I need to drop in a weak and pointless protest, and I need to do it fast.

‘I don’t know if I can trust you.’

‘You can trust me more than anyone else in the world.’

‘How can I trust a man who keeps secrets from me?’

‘I tried to tell you, more than once.  It was never the right time.’

I stare at his long fingers, saying nothing.  I’m crumbling steadily.

‘And I’m not the only one who kept secrets.  You didn’t tell me about Boyd.’

It’s an instinct.  At the mention of his name, I pull my hand away.

‘That’s different.’

‘How is it?’ he demands, his voice still gentle.

‘That’s nothing to do with who I am.’

‘Of course it is.’

And he’s so bloody right.  Boyd, my sister, Tom: the whole lot of them have left me riddled with self-doubt and fear.

‘I never talk about him.  I don’t even like to think about him.  I block him out.  That’s the way I cope.’

‘And how do you think I deal with my past?’

He falls silent.  Taking both of my hands now, he gently encourages me to my feet, pulling me in to his chest and enclosing me in his arms.  I feel a hand at the back of my head, another at the base of my spine, and I can smell him now, that fresh signature scent of his.  A familiar spark of energy flutters through my body, concentrating in my chest and in my loins.  And then the tears begin to flow.  Maybe it’s because of Boyd, because Dan’s just scratched a wound that’s never really healed, or maybe I’m crying for Dan, suddenly overwhelmed by the awfulness of his past.  I have no idea, but a gentle trickle soon grows in force.

‘Maya, don’t.’  He moves back, wiping away the tears away with a thumb.  ‘I hate to see you cry.’

I can’t resist any more and anyway, I just don’t want to.  Instead, I lean in to him, every last bit of tension ebbing away.  And finally, I admit the truth: I’ve been the queen of self-deception.  I want him, I need him and in spite of everything, I was never going to let him go.

I hear him let out a quiet sigh of relief.  He kisses the top of my head and places his palms against my cheeks.  My head is angled upwards, so that I’m looking straight into his face.

‘You’ll never cry again,’ he whispers.  ‘Not if I can help it.  This is your sanctuary, remember?  Right here, with me.’  He wipes away more tears, slowly, carefully, watching my face for any sign of a reaction.  ‘And it’s mine too,’ he adds.  ‘You’ve saved me.’

‘From what?’

He blinks.

‘From being nothing.’  He shakes his head, struggling to find the right words.  ‘When I’m with you …’  A smile spreads across his face.  ‘You make me remember who I am.’

Lily’s words return to me.  He’s becoming his old self again, the real Dan.  I’ve pulled back the mask.

‘Give me another chance.  I won’t let you down, Maya.  I promise.  I need you in my life.’

Still holding my face, he waits patiently for an answer, and I have no problem in giving it.  Swallowing back another sob, I nod.

‘I need you too.’

He gazes at me for a moment, before lowering his lips to mine and delivering another perfect kiss.  While he holds me tight, I soak up the softness of his lips, the way his mouth shapes itself around mine as our tongues intertwine.  It goes on for an age.

‘Does this mean I’m forgiven?’ he asks, finally releasing me.

‘Possibly.’

‘How can I make that a definitely?’

‘For a start you could fuck the living daylights out of me.’

I give him a cheeky grin.

He shakes his head.

‘I don’t think I’m going to do that, after all.’

‘So what are you going to do then?’

He runs a finger down the side of my cheek.

‘I think it’s generally referred to as making love.  But before we do …’

Making his way over to the counter, he picks up the necklace.  I follow, turn, gather up my hair and wait.  The sweet pea appears in front of my face.  He threads the chain around my neck, back where it belongs, and closes the clasp.

And then he leads me back up to the bedroom.  As we come to a halt in the middle of the room, I’m tingling.  He lets go of my hand and stands in front of me.  While the seconds draw themselves out into an eternity, I see nothing but his eyes, hear nothing but the quivering of my breath, feel nothing but the ache inside.  And now I know exactly what it is: I’m consumed by a need for him, on every possible level. 

I’m half expecting him to say something, but as he lifts my dress over my head and drops it to the floor, he remains soundless.  Taking his time, he surveys my body, smiling his appreciation before he leans in and unfastens my bra.  For a few seconds, I feel his breath against my cheek, and I silently will him to kiss me, but he’s in no rush.  Instead, he trails the bra away from my shoulders, watching the slow progress of the straps across my skin before he lets it go.  And then he touches my face, lightly running an index finger down my cheek, my neck, across my sternum, tracing his way over each breast, circling my nipples again and again.  My skin comes alive at his touch.  Suddenly, I’m trembling.  Anticipation surges through every nerve and fibre … and I just can’t wait any longer.

Taking hold of his T-shirt, I push it over his head, ruffling his hair in the process.  And then I drink in the definition of his form.  This man is physical perfection, absolute and complete.  I’ll never cease to be awestruck by the sight of him, just like I’ll never get used to the fact that he’s all mine.  Reaching up, I brush my palms across his broad shoulders, his biceps, his firm pecs, his taut stomach.  He gives me a minute or so to admire him before he guides me back in to his embrace and while he nuzzles his head against my neck, I curl my arms around his back, loving the feel of his body: the warmth, the smell, the softness of his skin.  It feels like home.

At last, he releases me, cupping my face in his hands.

‘This is for keeps.  Understand?’

I nod mutely and it’s all I can do because, true to form, he’s already rendered me speechless.  In a stupor, I watch him sink to his knees.  He strokes a big hand across my stomach, setting off a spark of lust at my clitoris.  And then he leans in, kissing my crotch through the fabric of my knickers.  The effect is immediate: the spark seems to catch, forming a ball of warmth that travels inwards through my muscles, almost causing me to orgasm on the spot.  I dig my hands into his hair, close my eyes and let out a groan.  I hear him chuckle, feel him tuck a finger into the waistband, running it slowly from left to right before he draws my knickers downwards.

With my knickers removed, he returns to my crotch, curls an arm around my buttocks and gently encourages my legs apart.  Holding me in place, he touches his tongue against my labia, stroking me, exploring the folds of my flesh and homing in on my g-spot.  And now I’m a mess, a shambolic, sexed-up, brainless disaster area.  Soaking up the warmth of his mouth and the ripples of pleasure that course through me with every flick of his tongue, I moan shamelessly.

I’m pretty certain that my legs are about to give way when he finally comes to a halt.  Rising to his feet, he slips one arm around my back, the other beneath my buttocks, and lifts me.  He carries me to the bed, lays me down and straightens up.  Studying my body, his line of vision climbs from my crotch to my breasts and finally to my face.  And I feel no shame, no embarrassment.  I simply watch as he unbuttons his jeans and removes them.  The pants quickly follow and now I just can’t help it.  At the sight of his cock, all hard and ready to go, a grin spreads across my face.

‘Hands above your head,’ he says quietly, fighting back a grin of his own.

I reach up towards the wooden slats, automatically following the order, silently hoping he’s about to fetch the cuffs.  But he doesn’t.  Instead he climbs onto the bed, props himself on his left elbow, manoeuvres his right leg over me and pins me into position.

‘Now I’ve got you.’  He leans down to land a kiss on my lips.  ‘Are we ready for some serious pleasure?’

I’d like to ask him exactly what he means by ‘serious pleasure’, but he’s already made a start on delivering it.  Using a palm here and a finger there, he strokes my arms, my breasts, my stomach, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake.  Still taking his time, he retraces his path over and over again.  And while my skin becomes super-sensitive, ripples of warmth undulate throughout my groin, every last one of them converging in my vagina.  I’m soon wet, and before long I’m desperate too, craving his touch further down.

‘Turn over.’

‘What?’

‘Do as you’re told.’

I roll onto my stomach and immediately, I’m straddled.  Lowering himself onto my backside, he presses his hard balls against my buttocks.  And that sets me off.  In a futile attempt to spur him on, I grind my buttocks against him, but he’s clearly working to his own agenda and a full-on fucking seems to be a little further down the line.  In a whirlwind of desperation, I bury my hands beneath the pillow and wait.

‘Are we in need of a good fuck, Miss Scotton?’ he asks, his voice light with amusement.

‘You know I am.’

‘Patience.’  He moves my hair to one side, carefully.  ‘Everything comes to she who waits.’

His lips land on my neck, right at the nape, drawing themselves slowly across my skin, stopping here and there for a kiss.  I sense another movement.  Adjusting his position, he takes the kisses lower, repeatedly trailing goose pimples down my spine and before long, I’m shuddering under his touch.  His hands come to my sides, holding me firmly.  And then he moves lower again, covering both sides of my body with his mouth, smoothing its warmth across me.  At last, I feel his breath against my skin, right at the base of my spine … and somehow it causes me to jolt.

His grip tightens.  ‘You like?’

‘God, yes.’

‘This is what you get when you’re with me.  No more running.’

‘No.’  I gasp.  ‘Definitely not.’

Another movement and his palms touch against my thighs, gently urging me up onto my haunches and guiding my legs apart.  A finger runs from the base of my spine, down along the space between my buttocks, and then it disappears.  I feel his tongue in its place, licking its way along the same route.  Oh, good God, he’s going straight in for that again.  While half of me is quaking at the thought of it, the other half is currently sitting on the edge of its seat, quietly begging for him to get on with it.  He circles his tongue slowly around the edge of my anus, and then back up to my spine.  The last few kisses are planted right there, just above my coccyx, where he always gets me with his touch.

‘I thought you were going to …’

A hand comes into position over my backside.

‘Not now.  Just reacquainting myself with an old friend.’

He moves again, kneeling by my side and encouraging me over onto my back.  As if I’ve been thoroughly drugged, I move like a rag doll under his touch.  There are no two ways about it: he’s got me totally in his control.  I’d do anything for him.

‘I don’t mind a bit of back door action,’ I offer.

‘Later, maybe.’  He brushes a finger across my stomach.  ‘When I’ve got my kink on.’

An exquisite contraction erupts out of nowhere, a flood of heat deep in my core.  He’s breathing fast now, obviously just as aroused as me, but instead of getting on with it, he seems determined to kiss me to death.  Straddling me again, he leans down, sweeping his lips across my neck.  I turn my head to one side, allowing him more access, and he makes the most of it, skimming his mouth from the bottom of my ear down to my shoulders.

‘
A hundred years
,’ he murmurs, ‘
should go to praise thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze.
’  He lifts his head, watching for my reaction, but I have no idea what sort of reaction to give.  What the hell’s he going on about?

‘Pardon?’

‘Poetry.’

‘Oh.’

I suppose that’s what you get for going out with a man who studied literature at university, and then got thrown out ...  and then spent two years in the wilderness.  You have no idea what he got up to, my brain reminds me.  And you’re letting him do this to you?  My thoughts must have spilled out onto my face, and he seems to have noticed.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Relax then.  Where was I?’

I groan as his mouth travels further, down to my breasts, setting me alight with new sensations.  His lips latch onto my right nipple and he sucks gently.  And while my pulse soars, I gaze at the mop of blond hair that’s right in front of me.  It’s far too tempting.  I dig my fingers into it.

‘Behave, Maya.’  Raising his head, he smiles at me.  ‘Hands up.’

‘Or what?’

He grabs hold of my wrists, manoeuvres my arms back into place.  ‘I’ll think of something.’

Pushing out an exasperated sigh, I resign myself to my fate.  It’s all I can do.  Seeing as I’ve already given him my complete submission, there’s really no point in arguing.  His lips are already back on my skin, batting any logical thoughts to one side.  Moving to my left nipple, he sucks and releases, slowly, over and over again.  When he’s finally finished, his eyes meet mine.

‘Two hundred to adore each breast. 
Are we in a tizzy, Miss Scotton?’

‘Yes.  Get on with it.  Go there.’

‘Where?’

‘You know.  There.’

‘But I’m in no rush. 
Thirty thousand to the rest.
’

‘No,’ I groan.

‘
An age at least to every part
.’

He lowers his head again, running his mouth between my breasts, across my stomach, smelling me, tasting me with lazy, unhurried movements.  I’m a gargantuan, sweaty mess by the time he returns to my crotch.  Breaking contact, he looks up at me, his eyes glinting.

‘
And the last age should show your heart
,’ he whispers, his voice deep and smooth.

I raise my head from the pillow.  ‘You … you already have my heart,’ I manage to stammer.

‘I know that, Maya.  I’m reciting a poem.  Go with it.’

I smile and let my head fall back.

‘
For lady, you deserve this state
.’  He runs a hand across my pubic hair.  ‘
Nor would I love at lower rate
.’

I quiver inside.  ‘Love?’

‘Did I say you could talk?’

‘No.  Sorry.’

‘Bloody woman, ruining my poem.’

‘It’s not your poem.’  I’m betting on that.

‘Correct, it’s Andrew Marvell’s poem and he was a dirty bugger, I can tell you.  Now, spread these legs.’

Yes!  At last!  And about time too!  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m in seventh heaven here, on top of the world, drunk on ecstasy, but now I need the release.  He takes a while to run his fingers across my clitoris, sweeping further down to my vagina.  And then he leans in, his warm tongue lapping at my labia while a finger enters me, finding just the right spot and massaging me from the inside.  Gripping the pillow, I moan and groan, drowning in a floodtide of delicious warmth, wanting nothing more than to run my hands across the muscles of his broad shoulders, but I’m under orders.  I must resist.

I’m teetering on the edge when he finally comes to a halt.

‘And now for some real poetry.’  Slowly, he lowers himself onto me.

I feel his cock at my opening, sliding its way in, filling me perfectly like it always does.  He pauses, wraps a hand under my buttocks and smiles into my eyes before he begins.  Withdrawing to the hilt, he eases back in again, over and over, with the same controlled, unhurried movements, keeping it up until my insides become super-charged.

‘Oh Jesus, fuck!  Go quicker.’

‘I’m taking this slowly,’ he retorts, barely out of breath.  ‘I’ve put in the groundwork, laid the footings if you like.’

‘Oh.’  I swallow back a grunt.  ‘Builders’ talk.’

‘Exactly.  Now when you’ve spent all that time on the foundations, you don’t want to rush the erection, do you?’

With a devilish grin, he drives into me again, sending me to the edge of sanity, and I just can’t resist any more.  My hands fly up to him, fingers clutching at his hair, pulling frantically.  I move on to his shoulders, digging in as the pressure intensifies.

‘I’ll come,’ I gasp.  ‘I can’t hold it.  I’ll come.’

‘Come all you like.’  He brushes his lips against mine.  ‘I could do this forever.’

‘Shit, no.’

‘Shit, yes.  Tantric sex.’

And then the joking stops.  Our eyes connect.  Secured by his gaze and helpless beneath him, I let it all go as, moaning as my muscles seem to implode.  A deep, long orgasm undulates inside me, rippling outwards and clutching at his cock.  Soaking it all up, I’m lost in a Never-Never land of ecstasy.  And through it all, he keeps up the same steady rhythm, holding me tight.

Time backs out of the room, leaving us in oblivion, and at first I hear nothing apart from the sound of my own breathing, my heartbeat pounding inside my head.  But then it filters through.  His breathing has picked up pace too, and it’s coming to pieces.  He’s struggling to control himself.  His hands tighten against my skin as the pressure begins to build again.  Forcing his head in towards me, I press my lips against his, kissing him with a feverish passion.  And he kisses me right back, his tongue probing my mouth while his muscles stiffen.  For all his trash talk, he won’t be able to hold on for much longer.