Page 65 of Merciless King

Baby. I remembered him groaning that in my ear while he moved inside me. My belly warmed.

I grabbed his arm before he could turn away. “No. It’s fine.” I waved a hand to indicate how okay I was with this whole thing. “I’m fine.”

I motioned to his drink and swayed a little to the right. “Stay. Drink your Bend Over Shirley. It’s surprisingly good.”

He glanced down at the pink drink in his hand and back up to me. His grin sucked the oxygen from my lungs. “Ruby?” he asked.

He was asking who had decided on the drinks. Yeah, now I could read the man’s mind as well. “Willa,” I said.

Van smirked. “Could’ve gone either way.”

“You’re not wrong.” I’d only known these women for a short time, but I’d worked out quickly that Ruby and Willa were cut from the same cloth. Fun and fearless. Well, all the women could be described as that. They all exuded a strength that I could admit I was envious of. I liked them. All of them. A lot. And if I wanted us to remain friends, I had to work out how to be around Van without falling all over him—or falling apart, no matter how much it hurt.

I glanced at the others. They were all dancing, though I noticed there were several sets of female eyes covertly watching mine and Van’s interaction. When I met them, I got subtle nods or head tilts asking without words if I was okay, if they needed to run interference.

They knew Van was a good guy, were his friends, but they still had my back. It meant a lot.

Yep, I really liked these women.

“How’ve you been doing?” Van said in that sexy low voice of his, all raspy and gritty.

I took him in and there was no way to miss the wariness in his eyes. He was worried about me, about how his nearness affected me. He was standing like he was ready to step back and give me space at a moment’s notice. He thought I was going to freak out on him. Oh God, I’d made him feel like some kind of monster.

I thought I was helping him, ending it the way I had, but it turned out, I’d actually hurt him.

Maybe it was too many shots, but when I looked up into his concerned eyes, I knew I needed to come clean.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted.

He glanced down at my hand on his forearm. The muscle flexed, then he looked back up at me, frowning. “Sweetheart, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

I shook my head, probably a little too vigorously, but yeah, the emphasis seemed extremely important to me right then. The cocktails had nothing to do with it. I took a deep drink and focused back on Van’s frowning face…or tried to. “I lied.”

He shifted, stepped closer. “You what?”

I nodded. “I lied to you.” He just stared at me, waiting for me to elaborate, so I pushed on. “Being around you…it’s not…” I took another sip of my drink.

Van took the glass from my hand and put it down on the table. “It’s not what?”

Somehow my mouth felt dry, which should have been impossible after all the drinks I’d had. “It’s not…unbearable.”

He stilled.

“I was, um, trying to make it easy on you…you know, to end things. I could see you wanted to, but you were worried about my feelings, so I did it for you.” I chewed my lip. “I can see now that was a mistake.”

He didn’t look worried anymore. He looked pissed.

“I should have handled the situation differently.”

“No shit,” he bit out.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, London.”

“Sor—okay.”

His eyes went all intense. “So, if being around me isn’t unbearable, then what is it?”