True Colours:The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2(15)

'Your move, Maya.'

I try to focus on the game. Sensing an opportunity, I move a knight, forcing him back into check.

'Check.'

He studies the board, silent again. Perhaps I should try another prompt.

'You said they didn't feed you.'

'At first they did. And then it was some of the time. Eventually, I  suppose they just saw it as a waste of money. So I took things from  packed lunches at school, stole from the local shop. I got quite good at  that.' Suddenly, he seems to have divorced himself from his own words.  Fully focussed on the board, he's working through scenarios, only half  conscious of what he's saying. 'Layla used to slip me something every  now and then.'

'Is she the one who found you?'

'Yes.'

So, why rip up her card? Why shut her out? Those are the questions I'd  really like to ask, but it's not the right time. I'll have to go with  something else.

'I can't understand why the school never picked up on this.'

'They did. A couple of times. A letter, a warning about my appearance.  My mother made an effort for a few weeks and then it all tailed off  again. She did just enough to keep Social Services off her back. And in  the meantime, he took it out on me.'

He surveys the board.

'School,' I whisper.

'What about it?'

'You said it was a nightmare.'

'It was, but kids are kids. They make fun of anyone who's different.'

'But my sister made it worse.'

'She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know the truth. She was  just a part of it.' His voice is breaking now, cracking at the edges.  'There were a whole load of things that drove me to  … '

He comes to an abrupt halt, glancing up at me. He doesn't need to say  any more. We both know what he's talking about now: how he lay down with  a razor blade and waited for the pain to stop. I reach out, noticing  that my own hands are shaking, and take a hand in mine. Turning his palm  upwards, I gently run my fingers over his wrist.         

     



 

'No scars.'

With a sigh, he offers the other hand. I take it, examine it, but in the gloom, it's difficult to see anything.

'You wouldn't know it's there, but it is.' He straightens his lips and stares at me. 'You've beaten me.'

'What?'

He nods at the board. 'Check mate. You get to go home.'

'How the hell did that happen?' Letting go of his hand, I scrutinize the  board. Yes, he's totally right. There's nothing he can do. I've backed  him into a corner. When I look at him again, I catch a hint of despair  in his eyes, and I'm not having that, not after what he's just done.  Reaching out, I topple my king.

'You can't do that,' he complains. 'You know the rules. You've won.'

He reaches out to topple his own king. I grab his hand just in time.

'I'm not playing by the rules tonight.' I smile at him. 'I'm staying.'





Chapter Eight


I open my eyes and blink at the skylight, surprised to find that I'm  being greeted by the sun. For a handful of seconds, I wonder where I am,  and then confusion gives way to contentment: I can already smell him,  feel his arm behind my neck, hear the deep, regular rhythm of his  breathing.

Careful not to wake him, I roll over to find him on his back with his  head turned towards me, not a trace of tension in his features. Reaching  up, I trail a finger down his face, wondering if last night's  revelations have left him feeling this way, but the truth is I have no  idea. After we showered in silence, holding each other under the streams  of water for an age, he took me back to bed and made love to me until  we finally drifted off to sleep on the cusp of dawn. And through it all,  hardly saying a word, there was a new reverence in his eyes, a new  tenderness in his touch  …  a deeper connection between us.

I move the finger downwards, opening my palm, running it gently over his  chest, across the smattering of hair and up to his shoulders, enjoying  the firmness of his muscles, the softness of his skin. I've obviously  been too preoccupied with his physique to notice the change in his  breathing. When my eyes return to his face, a small smile has crept into  the corners of his lips.

'Feeling me up?' he asks, eyes still closed. 'You're a pervert.'

'You created the monster,' I remind him, snuggling up against his chest.  His arms close around me and we spend a minute or two in silence,  enjoying the simple experience of being together. It's interrupted by a  ring tone.

I give a start. His arms tighten.

'That's your phone.' While he brought his mobile to bed with him, I left  mine downstairs on the coffee table. 'Aren't you going to answer it?'

'No.' Slowly, he reaches over to the bedside cabinet, picks up the  mobile and focuses on the screen. 'Norman.' Silencing the call, he drops  the mobile and looks at me.

My stomach lurches and my heart begins to thud, and I'm hardly  surprised. His hair's a glorious mess and he's still half-asleep, and my  God, I could eat him.

'It might be important.'

'It's never important. Not with Norman. He can wait. Come here.'

He pulls me in, bringing my face right next to his and without any  persuasion at all, I move further. Determined to be on top this morning,  I straddle him, placing a hand to either side of his head and letting  my hair tumble over his face. With a broad smile, he cups my right  breast, kneading gently, pulling the nipple between his thumb and  forefinger, causing a ball of warmth to fizzle into life between my  thighs.

I lower my lips to his, kissing him lightly, teasing him, moving to the  edges of his mouth, along his chin, across his cheek. Impatient for the  endgame, he reaches to the back of my head and draws me closer. The kiss  deepens, tongues intertwine, and I sense his other hand against the  small of my back, pushing me in to his morning erection.

'You're wet already,' he murmurs into my mouth.

'It's a nice way to start the day.'

'And now that you're moving in,' he smiles, 'you can start every day like this.'

'What makes you think I'm moving in?'

'Oh I don't know. A little game of chess.'

I try to sit up straight, but I don't get very far. I'm clamped into place by his hands.

'Hang on a minute,' I protest. 'We made a deal. I beat you.'

'And then, rather strangely, you conceded defeat.'

'I said I'd move in if you beat me. You didn't.'

He screws up his nose. 'You're being pedantic.'         

     



 

'And you're being pushy.'

'So, that's a no then?'

'Of course it's a no. There's plenty more talking to do yet.'

The grip on my hair relaxes. I sit up. He grimaces.

'No more big talk, Maya. Please.'

I gaze down at his face and begin to crumble. There's something so  innocent, so child-like about his plea that I just can't refuse. And  besides, after last night, I'm not entirely sure that I'm ready for any  more heavy-duty conversation. Perhaps we should lighten things up a  little.

'Not today,' I reassure him. 'We did enough of that last night. I think we can move on to the small talk today.'

He rolls his eyes.

'All the little things.' I take his chin in my hand. 'The window dressing.'

As if I've just asked him to drink straight out of an unflushed toilet, a frown takes hold of his face.

'If we must.'

Before I know what's going on, I'm flipped onto my back, my hands pinned  into place above my head, and now he's straddling me. Jesus, this man  can move at the speed of light.

'I suppose it had to happen sooner or later.' His lips skim across mine  and then, without warning, he pushes himself up from the bed.

'What are you doing?' I demand, flummoxed by the move.

'Wouldn't you like to know?' With a wink, he makes his way over to the  wardrobes. Sliding open the door, he pulls out a drawer, rummages around  and retrieves the leather cuffs. 'Kink.' He sidles back over to the  bed, holding the cuffs in the air.

Oh shit, my brain gurgles, you're in for it, lady.

'You're not going to torture me into moving in.'

He climbs onto the bed and kneels next to me. 'Give me your hands.'

'I mean it, Dan.'

'So do I. Hands.'

Within seconds, I cave in. While every last part of my body lights up  with excitement, I offer him my wrists. With a smile of satisfaction, he  wraps a cuff around my left wrist, concentrating intently as he buckles  it up, moving on to my right wrist when he's satisfied. Finally, he  motions towards the headboard and knowing exactly what I have to do, I  lie on my back and raise my arms, watching as he manoeuvres himself  above me, tugging out the straps and fixing the cuffs in place.

'Seriously,' I breathe, my pulse quickening. 'You're not forcing me into it.'

'That's not my intention.' He checks the bindings and looks down at me, his eyes hooded.

Starting at my clitoris, a tremor of lust passes right through me.

'So, what is your intention?' I ask, my voice uneven.

He traces a finger across my cheek.

'Small talk is eminently dull.' The finger moves further, down the side  of my neck, causing me to close my eyes and groan. He pauses at my  sternum. 'Legs apart.'

Immediately, I follow his order, watching as he repositions himself.  Lying next to me and watching out for every single reaction, he runs the  same finger from my chest downwards, stopping to circle my belly  button, slowly, lazily. 'However, I clearly need to discover the tiny,  irrelevant facts about you.' The finger travels further down, across my  left thigh. 'And you need to discover the tiny, irrelevant facts about  me.' While he gazes into my eyes, he brushes the finger across my pubic  hair. 'So, I might as well have some fun while we're at it.' Lightly, he  traces a path around my labia, pausing to press against my clitoris,  sending a flutter of want deep into my loins.