Read True Colours (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2) for Free Online Page B

fucking key.’  As if nothing particularly interesting is going on at all, he opens the fridge and helps himself to a bottle of water before sauntering over to the counter and sitting down.  ‘Clive’s got the fucking key.’  He unscrews the bottle top and takes a swig.  ‘ And he’s got the spares.’
    My mind sifts through this new information.  In the lift at his office, in the garage, even in my own bed: he’s trapped me plenty of times before.  But locking me into his apartment, well that really is going that extra mile.  As if it’s going to make the slightest bit of difference, I glance at the door again.
    ‘You’ve locked us in?’
    ‘Yup.’  He takes another swig of water.
    ‘For how long?’
    ‘Until Tuesday morning.’
    ‘Tuesday?’  My bottom lip takes a dive.
    ‘I think that should do it.’
    He may still be turning me on, but his arrogance is nothing less than a spark in a tinder box.  I sense a flare in my gut, a rush of blood, a sudden urge to lash out.
    ‘That’s false imprisonment,’ I seethe.  ‘I could have you done for this.’
    He shakes his head.  ‘I don’t think so, seeing as it was Lucy who locked us in … with Clive’s help.’  He takes another swig of water, places the bottle on the counter top, folds his arms and leans forwards.  ‘Now, I’m sure you don’t want to land our friends in trouble, do you?’
    No, I don’t, Mr Foster, but this was your idea and they’re simply accomplices.  And if you think you can wriggle out of it that easily, you’re very much mistaken.  That would be the best thing to say, the only sensible thing, but when I open my mouth, I hear nothing more than another dose of profanity.
    ‘Bollocks.’
    ‘And can I get arrested for falsely imprisoning myself?’
    Another rush of blood.  Another urge to scream and shout.
    ‘This isn’t funny.’
    ‘I know.’
    I’m about to turn and kick the door when I make the mistake of locking eyes with him.  Firm and determined, those whorls of blue are totally fixed on me, drawing me in like a ruddy tractor beam.  I’m already half-mesmerised when I finally manage to snap myself into action.  Looking round the room, I fix my attention on the floor-to-ceiling windows.
    ‘I’ll go out there and yell.  Somebody’s going to hear me.’  Running over to the windows, I tug at a handle.  Nothing moves.  ‘Open this,’ I growl, wheeling round.
    ‘I can’t.  Clive’s got the …’
    ‘Yes, I know,’ I cut in, losing it now.  ‘Clive’s got the bloody keys.  Fuck it, Dan.  I’m sick of this.’
    ‘So am I.’  He pushes the bottle away and rubs his hands.  ‘And that’s why nobody’s running any more.’  Placing his hands on his thighs, he watches as I slink back over to the front door.  ‘Neither of us.’
    Okay, so it’s time for a glare.  And I give him one: a top-of-the-range, you’re a total bastard glare.  Unwavering and unbothered, he stares right back at me and try as I might, I can’t detect a trace of weakness in him.  No nervousness.  Nothing apart from sheer determination and a good dose of lust.  His eyes are hooded, his lips parted slightly, and I know exactly what he’s after.  A delicious shimmer of want pulsates between my thighs.  Fuck it, no!  Determined to get through this in one piece, I squeeze my legs together.
    ‘Why would you run?’ I demand.
    ‘I’ve got my reasons.’
    He gets up and I shiver.  Whatever happens next, I need to avoid contact at all costs.  I’ll cave in at the first touch.  History has taught me that.
    ‘So, I cooked this up.’  He takes a step forwards.  ‘Lock the pair of us in, and no one backs away.’
    ‘You deceived me.  It’s over.  Just accept it.  Locking us in here is going to achieve nothing.’
    ‘Three things.’  Giving me a slow, languid smile, he runs his eyes up and down my body.  He’s back to being the cocky bastard I first met.  And why wouldn’t he be?  After