Page 16 of Merciless King

What did you say to someone who had done that for you?

My heart started to pound harder, my skin heating, my palms getting sweaty.

Pull it together, London.

I glanced down at myself. Jeans and a pink sweater that was soft, slightly fitted, and had a neckline that came down in a deep V, showing the white tank I wore underneath. Casual but smart. I’d had a quick shower and had made an attempt to look presentable, which always made me feel a little more in control. My hair was pulled back in a ponytail, though a few wisps had escaped. But then my hair couldn’t be tamed, so I’d come to terms with it never being perfect. I had on a little light makeup, just some mascara and a little blush since I’d been so pale when I looked in the mirror.

Now just…open the door.

I gripped the handle.

Van knocked and I jumped.

“You okay in there?” he called.

My face heated. Did he know I was standing here? “Yes!” I called back and tried to yank the door open…and almost walked into it. I’d locked it last night out of habit. I fumbled with the lock and tried again.

My blush deepened when I finally got it open. Van stood back a little from the door, his arms crossed, head tilted to the side, and those dark eyes on me. They lowered to my sock-covered feet. I cringed. They were pink and had little worms holding books and wearing glasses on them. Then I watched as that dark gaze moved all the way up. It felt like an eternity, when in reality it was seconds, probably less than a second.

“How you feeling this morning?”

I jumped again, so deep in my own head, desperately searching for the right words, that his took me by surprise. He didn’t miss my reaction. He frowned.

Not sure what to do with my hands, and to hide the way they trembled, I crossed my arms as well. “I’m okay.”

He took a step closer and I jolted, almost falling over my own damn feet.

Van froze, his frown deepening. He was silent for several frantic beats of my heart, watching me in that intense way of his. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Are you afraid of me, London?”

Every curse word I knew—which was extensive since my dad had literally been a sailor, or at least in the navy most of my childhood—shot through my mind. I hated that I was like this. Having social anxiety sucked and made life extremely difficult at times. Add on top of that a general awkwardness around men and some insecurities about my body that I was still working on, and living under a rock became increasingly appealing.

As hard as this was, I did not want Van, of all people, to think I was afraid of him. “Definitely not,” I said, while avoiding actually looking at him. “No way. I’m not afraid of you. You’re the last person in the world I’d be afraid of. Well, not like that, you know? Like you don’t scare me. I know you’d never hurt me.”

He just stood there staring at me.

I flushed hotter. “So, um…no. Not afraid.” In my fantasies, I wasn’t this ridiculous. Not completely, anyway. Because as hard as I’d tried, I couldn’t even imagine away my nerves when I’d fantasized about what it would be like to be with a man like Van. What it would feel like to be kissed by him, touched…

He took a step closer again.

And dammit, I went rock solid, right after another one of those little jolts. Again, he didn’t miss this.

He pulled up short again. “Why do you keep jumping when I take a step in your direction? What do you think I’m going to do?”

I inwardly cringed. I was going to have to tell him, wasn’t I? Man, I so didn’t want to. But there was no way I was going to let him think it was him when it was all me. “It’s not you. I, ah…I have social anxiety disorder, and one-on-one situations are often hardest for me…especially around…well, around men.”

Sweet baby Jesus, why? Why the hell did I keep on talking?

“You seemed okay with me before…back then.”

“I was doped up to the eyeballs.” The pain meds had made everything a whole lot easier.

His brows slid higher. “Okay.”

He thinks I’m nuts.

I skirted the couch and rushed for the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“That’d be good.”