Page 19 of Merciless King

“Can’t sleep?”

I jumped and spun around. Van stood at the hall entrance, his face in shadow. His chest was bare and he was wearing a pair of sweatpants low on his hips, like he’d just tugged them on.

He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. His skin looked smooth apart from a trail of dark hair below his belly button that disappeared into those soft-looking pants. His stomach was ridged with muscle and his pecs were wide and heavy, but not too heavy. Just…right. I’d wondered if he had any tattoos. He did. One large one that covered his right pec, shoulder, and biceps to the elbow. I wanted to take a closer look, desperately. I stayed where I was.

My dad’s favorite sport to watch had been MMA fighting. He always had matches playing on the TV when he was on leave. Van’s body was like one of those men. A fighter. Raw and lean and muscled. Strong.

“London?”

I lifted my gaze to where his would be, which was easy since I couldn’t see him properly in the shadows. I’d almost forgotten that he’d asked me a question. I shook my head, answering him, though I didn’t really need to since I was standing here and not tucked up in his spare room.

He stepped forward and I managed to hold my ground and not step back. Light from the window angled across the sharp edges of his cheekbones and jaw. His eyes looked black.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

Was I? I took stock of myself and realized he was right. I guessed I’d been shaking since I woke up, maybe since Van coaxed me out of the back room of my shop. “I’m okay,” I said automatically, even though I was far from okay. So far from it I didn’t know where I was or what to do with myself.

“You have a nightmare, sweetheart?” he said gently.

I knew from the look on his face he was remembering all those times I woke screaming in the hospital. I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want him thinking about it either. But I nodded, because he was waiting for my answer.

I took him in again, standing there like he’d just stepped out of one of my fantasies, and hugged myself tighter. I couldn’t believe I was here, with him. Van was gorgeous. Brutally masculine. Fierce.

He belonged here in this beautiful apartment. It suited him.

I most definitely didn’t.

Did he bring a lot of women here? Probably.

Beautiful, confident women who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid of everything and everyone.

Or maybe…

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I said, or more whispered. Then I inwardly cringed. I couldn’t believe I’d asked him that. But then I seemed to blurt a lot of things when I was around Van King. Maybe it was the darkness, the shadows. Yes, it definitely felt more like a dream, a fantasy, standing here in his apartment, than reality.

My belly felt weird even thinking of him here with a woman. Someone he cared about. But why wouldn’t he? He was an extremely good-looking guy. And a good man.

He shook his head. “No girlfriend.”

I ignored the flutter in my belly. “You have a brother, don’t you? Any other siblings?” I didn’t know why I was asking him a bunch of questions in the middle of the night. I just knew in that moment I wanted to know more about him. It felt important. More important than anything else.

“No,” he said. “Just me and Hunter.”

He didn’t ask me anything in return and I wondered if he already knew. Probably. He was a PI. Had he taken it upon himself to find out about my background, my history? Not that there was much to discover. Or was it wishful thinking that he’d taken that kind of interest in me?

“I don’t think I’m going to get back to sleep tonight. Is it okay if I watch some TV?”

He strode across the living room, picked up a remote, and hit a couple of buttons. A TV glided up and out of the cabinet across from the couch, and the screen turned on. “I’ll make us a drink,” he said.

“You don’t need to stay up as well.”

His gaze moved over me and his eyes gentled. “I want to.” He headed to the kitchen.

* * *

I woke on the couch, my face smoothed against something hard and hot. Forcing my eyes open, I quickly realized the something hard and hot was Van’s stomach. I also had my arm slung around him.

My first instinct was to jerk back, but then I saw that he was asleep. I sure as hell didn’t want to wake him, not after I’d been draped over him like cling wrap. His fingers were buried in my hair—had he been stroking it? Yeah, right. Wishful thinking, London. I carefully reached up and moved his hand, untangling my hair, then eased up slowly.