Page 66 of Merciless King

It was my turn to freeze, only I was pretty sure I looked like a startled woodland animal. “Um…”

When nothing else was forthcoming from me, he said, “You like me.”

I nodded, even though it wasn’t a question.

“You like me a lot.”

I nodded again.

“You like the way I touch you.”

My lips parted and my breath exploded from my lungs. “Ah, well…”

He grinned and it was wicked. “You like the way I kiss you, too.”

I realized I was still clutching his arm. I nodded again, confused by the conversation, by the expression on his face, and excited all at the same time.

He touched my hair, lifting some of it, rubbing it between his fingers before sliding his hand around the side of my neck. He tugged me forward, kissing my forehead. “Dance with me,” he said and pulled me out into the middle of the living room.

A moment later, I was pressed up against him and we were slowly moving together.

With the lights off and the mini disco ball flashing around the room as it spun, showing glimpses of the other couples moving around us, it was like we were at a high school dance. Not that I’d ever been to one.

Van’s hands smoothed over my back as he swayed us from side to side. I should have let go, I should have left. Instead I rested my head on his chest and hung on tight.

* * *

My head pounded like a resident of Lilliput had moved in and was amusing himself by using my brain as a gong. I forced my lids open, and a sharp stabbing pain shot through my skull as light hit eyeballs.

I was hungover.

I’d never been hungover in my life, not like this anyway.

The sound of deep, even breathing had me turning my head, causing another shot of pain.

Van lay beside me. He was fully clothed on top of the covers, and he was sleeping deeply. I looked down at myself. I was still fully dressed as well. There was a towel on the floor by the bed, and a bucket.

I cringed and sent up a little prayer of thanks that I hadn’t needed to use it. There was also a large glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on my bedside table. I quickly downed two, along with the entire glass of water, and glanced at the clock. Crap. I needed to get to work.

While I mustered the will to move from the bed, I used the time to try and clear my foggy mind, to recall the events of the night before from my alcohol-addled brain.

I’d told Van that I’d lied.

That I’d been trying to make things easier on him.

He hadn’t reacted like I’d expected.

I glanced at Van again. All of a sudden I felt overwhelmed. My heart started to race a million miles a minute. We’d danced. He’d held me the rest of the night, his hands sure and warm moving over me.

What the hell had I done? I couldn’t pick up where we left off. I couldn’t do casual, not with him, not now. I’d ripped off the Band-Aid, ready to start healing, but last night I’d gone and torn the wound open all over again.

Van wasn’t the kind of man who rolled over easily. If he woke in this bed with me, I’d fall right back into his arms, if that’s what he wanted. Self-preservation kicked in. I needed to get away now.

He was a light sleeper, I knew that much. I slipped out of the bed as slowly as I could, grabbed some fresh clothes, and shut myself in the bathroom. I quickly dressed, brushed my teeth, and dragged a brush through my tangled hair.

I eased the door open.

Thank God.