Not My Heart to Break (Merciless World Book 3)

by W. Winters

  I have to ask her before I lose the nerve, before the moment is over. I need to know. “And the father? Are you going to tell him?”

  She didn’t mention him at all in the message. I imagine she’s unsure who he is, but I’ll damn well know before the sun sets tonight.

  “I’m going to tell him when the baby’s here.”

  She holds my gaze, and hers is mixed with uncertainty as she confesses, “I think he deserves to know.”

  I nod in agreement although that’s not at all what I think. I lie to her like I did to Declan and say, “As long as you want me there at your side, then the world can throw whatever it wants at us, because I know it’ll be all right.” I don’t know if anything is going to be all right. All I know is that I made a deal with the devil and I pray he keeps his word. All I can do is pray and I hate it.

  I can hold her all the while though. Every moment I can love her, I will. Her message was very clear about the condition of her heart although she neglected to mention that she’ll likely die within the year and that if she doesn’t get a donor transplant, she most certainly will.

  “Go the bedroom and get undressed,” I command her, again not giving her a choice. And again, she’s agreeable, kissing me hurriedly as if afraid I’ll change my mind and then she slips off my lap.

  I miss her warmth instantly, but she has to go without me. I need a moment. Just one to forward the message to Declan and then text him to listen to it.

  And then I listen to her again.

  I’ll need his help to find out who the father is. I add in a message, that Marcus knew. That this is what Marcus told me, which isn’t a lie, but Marcus told me much more.

  The floor creaks and that’s when I see Laura’s come back.

  “Are you okay?” Laura whispers, drawing my gaze to hers as she stands in front of me, her legs between my knees. I nod into the palm of her hand when she cups my chin.

  “I just need a minute, Babygirl.” She rewards my whispered response with a kiss and I tell her to go. That I’ll just be a minute.

  Hate is so much easier to hold on to than any other emotion. And that’s all I can think as she leaves me.

  She’s mine, not his.

  This baby is mine, not his.

  I text Declan as I listen to Laura’s feet pad softly down the hallway: Find out who Laura dated five months ago. Go through her texts, her emails, the dating apps on her phone. I want to know everything about him.

  Laura

  I love him with all my heart.

  Every piece of it beats for him.

  My hands tremble as I undress, taking more time than it should and I know that, but I can’t stop picturing him there, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his broad shoulders hunched over with a dejected look on his face.

  I’ll never unsee that look in his eyes, like he was questioning if he still had me, if I was still his, and desperately needed to know.

  Because he wants me still. He loves me still.

  And I’ve never needed to feel that more than I need it now.

  The door behind me creaks open just as I unhook my bra. It hits the floor just as I spin to face him and before I can move or speak, he’s almost on me, closing the distance between us in three broad steps.

  His strong arms wrap around me as he gathers me up, capturing my squeal of surprise with his lips in a kiss. I can’t hold him close enough as my arms wrap around his broad shoulders. They only stay there for a fraction of a second before I tear at his shirt, needing it off and desperately needing his skin against mine.

  I’ve never felt so close to him, yet so far apart at the same time.

  I need more of him and all of him. I want him to surround me and consume me until I am nothing but his. Protected and loved and cherished.

  My kisses devour his, but somehow he does just the same to me.

  Although it all feels reckless and desperate, he lowers me to the bed as if he has full control. Of course he does; he is so much stronger than I am.

  The thought reminds me to tear at his clothes, a button popping off as I do and neither of us care.

  In a single motion, Seth parts from my embrace, removing his shirt with one hand over his head and tossing it somewhere behind me.

  “On your back,” he groans, the depth of his dark gaze stirring with a fire that burns me, singeing my core.

  I watch the cords of his muscles tense as he removes his clothes, and then he crawls up the bed to where I’m lying. He slowly inches up my naked body, kissing and nibbling which sends both a chill and a thrilling wave of heat to descend over my body. He takes his time, teasing me while my nails dig into the sheets, desperately holding on to patience. I want him now. To say I’m in need would be a profound understatement.

  I suck in a breath before his lips press against mine and in that same moment, he enters me. A swift motion that brings about a stinging pain just as much as it brings an all-consuming pleasure.

  His pace is set before I can breathe. His grip on my hips, pinning me in place.

  He only stops kissing me to moan in the crook of my neck, “I need to get lost in you.” And with his deep voice and rough cadence, raw with need, I feel myself clench around him. Already the heat of the act dances along my skin, from the tips of my toes all the way up my body.

  My blunt nails dig into his back, not piercing his skin, but holding on to him for dear life as he rocks himself in me all the way to the hilt.

  It’s all too much, but that’s the only way Seth ever is. Too much, all-consuming. It’s the only way he’s ever been and I’ve never been so grateful.

  As the pleasure builds inside of me, I stare in the reflection of the dresser mirror, watching his powerful frame as he moves in deep, controlled strokes.

  He’s a sex god, a man I was never supposed to have. And he takes me with a force and a need that’s undeniable. He may be getting lost in me, but I’ve forever been lost in him. And that’s all I want. I would happily roam the earth for all eternity not knowing a damn thing other than what it feels like to be loved by him.

  As his pace quickens and my climax gets closer and closer, I pull my eyes away from our reflection, my neck arching with a need to pull away from the intense feelings.

  “Don’t,” Seth scolds me, forcing me to keep my eyes open and stare into his gaze. “Don’t stop watching now,” he says in a single breath that sounds too easy compared to the cold sweat growing along every inch of my skin. He groans, the sound deep and sexy as he props up my left leg so he can enter me even deeper. “This is my favorite part.”

  With that confession, he pounds into me. His hips piston and a scream tears through me. The pleasure blazes up my body as I cum, but he doesn’t stop. He fucks me harder and more ruthlessly, our reflection only adding to the intensity of the scene before us.

  I scream out every time I cum on his cock and he rewards me with nips and sucking along my neck.

  He fucks me like he owns me. He makes love to me like I’ve always been his.

  And I love both ways I get to have him, because I love all of him.

  When we’re both breathless and spent, my body weak from his touch and my heart soothed from him whispering he loves me as he leaves kisses on my neck, he lays beside me, his arm protectively draped over my body.

  With my back to his chest, I stare at us in the mirror, loving how we fit together so perfectly, but feeling the pain of uncertainty sneak in between us.

  There’s so much I don’t know about how we’ll get through this.

  “Everything’s going to be okay, right?” I whisper even though I know there’s no way for him to know. Somehow, I convince myself that he could know. He could make it all right if he wanted to. Because he’s Seth King and he has always ruled my world, my thoughts. He is my fate.

  “Of course it is, Babygirl,” he answers me and kisses my neck before telling me to sleep. His voice doesn’t have the confidence I hoped for. I snuggle closer to him and tell him, “I love you,” thinking that I
need to make sure I tell him every day, just in case it’s our last day together.

  “I love you too,” he says and his answer soothes me, threatening to lure me to sleep with a wonderful dream. But a truth I’ve known for far too long keeps my tired eyes open, staring at his in the mirror.

  If only love was enough to make all this all right…

  Seth

  I feel fucking sick. Like that kind of ice-cold tingle that travels along your skin, but your face is burning up type of sick. I hope I vomit on his cheap knockoff shoes.

  That’s what this prick is. A knockoff. He’s no one.

  He’s no one echoes in my head as I stare back at him, watching the sweat bead on his neck.

  “So you own this place?” Declan asks Jim. Jim Howard. This spineless prick sitting in front of me knocked up Laura.

  Squirming in his seat, he puts a false smile on his face. He knows who Declan is, he recognizes our names. He’s a pussy, a limp dick. God I hate this bastard. I hate him with everything in me.

  I hate the color palette of this rinky-dink shop. Home Brew Coffee looks like every other coffee shop that exists. Except there are rows of bagged ground coffee lined up on shelves to buy. There’s a bell above the door. Generic paintings of coffeepots on off-white walls. And red metal chairs around six small tables. Like the one we’re sitting at right now.

  He clears his throat and starts to say, “Actually,” but the one word cracks. He’s nervous, jittery, and Declan leans forward, calmly telling him to relax. His crisp suit, fresh shave and charming features make this douche look even more like a pile of shit.

  How did she even find him all the way out here? It’s hours away. Oh, right, that was his doing. To keep her at a distance and every other hookup he has.

  I wish I could reach across the table and smash his face in.

  His smile turns more firm and he nods as he says, “Actually, I own it with my wife.”

  That right there. That hot prick of nausea comes back to me. That’s why I hate him like I do.

  “Your wife?” I question him, keeping my voice as even as I can although my grip on the glass of ice water tightens to the point that it’s strained. Everything is so fucking hot as I sit across from this sorry excuse for a man.

  He only nods. It’s all he can do.

  He can lie on his dating profiles. Give a half-real name with a barren social media profile he made up. And cheat around on his wife while texting his friends about it so they’ll cover for him.

  “That’s right,” Declan says and nods, speaking before the man can do anything but glance at me and then back to Declan. “I did see that on the lease.”

  A full background check and hacking into his phone took less than two hours.

  “She’s pregnant, right?” I question him, my throat so tight I’m getting light-headed.

  Every document Declan handed me this morning I wanted to tear up and shred. I haven’t felt pure rage like this in a long damn time.

  How could she have been with him? My Babygirl with him?

  All loathing aside, he’s decent looking, though there’s nothing remarkable about him. Physically he’s more built than average, with a nice-enough smile and charming way about him. It’s the charm that hides the asshole side. I know the type.

  He told her he had a business, which he does, but the online coffee sales barely break even every year. Even this small-time coffee shop, where he really makes his money, is failing. What the hell did he say to her that led to the two of them in bed together?

  I imagine he lied. Because that’s what pricks like him do. They lie.

  The mental image of Jim and my girl is what I see when the bastard responds, “He was just born. Nine pounds and healthy.”

  “Congratulations,” Declan tells him, his smile nice and even. It relaxes the man, and I watch as the tension in his shoulders visible lessens. Like he’s genuinely happy he had a son.

  I don’t expect the other emotions to creep in. The jealousy, the pain and agony. It makes everything in me tense and tight.

  He had a wife, he had a baby coming. And he risked losing it all for a “fuck night,” as he referred to it in a group message to his friends.

  Fuck him.

  I swallow down the unwanted emotions with a gulp of water.

  “See, I was just wondering,” Declan says and his tone changes, lowering as he hunches forward. It takes everything in me to just sit here. Simple as that. Just to stay seated, I am at the edge of my sanity.

  His cock was inside her. Did she even get off?

  I can’t stop fucking wondering. Pissed off and brokenhearted is a strange combination. Jealousy disgusts me. And yet here I am, jealous of this piece of shit.

  “Your profile, the one you’ve been using to see some of the women around here, it says you’re single.”

  I can hear the prick swallow, the sound giving me slight relief. I want to see him choke on his fear.

  If Laura knew, she’d hate herself. She’d blame herself for sleeping with a married man. I know she would.

  “If I…” Jim pauses and throws his hands up in a defensive gesture as if he’s being robbed and I turn to my left, just enough to see the young woman at the register pausing as she cleans the glass coffee mugs.

  “Maybe you should go to the back, sweetheart,” I tell her and give her the hint of a smile that narrows my eyes. When she glances between me and Jim, I add, “Nothing to worry about. Just asking questions.”

  I surprise myself by how easy it all comes out. I don’t feel a hint of that ease inside of me.

  The conversation pauses as the woman leaves the main room, hesitating at the doorway to the storage room.

  “We’ll only be a minute, promise,” Declan reassures her although she doesn’t take her eyes off of her employer, whose eyes are pleading.

  “Look man, if I slept with someone I shouldn’t have, I swear I didn’t know.” His plea tumbles out followed by heavier breathing.

  “Relax.” Declan keeps talking, giving him a false sense of reassurance. “We’re just confused. We want to know what kind of guy you are because we’re moving a little closer and wanted to get the lay of the land is all. You’re not in any trouble with us,” Declan says and motions with his thumb for emphasis.

  The fuck he isn’t. I keep my thoughts to myself, though. I’m still not able to speak.

  “So you’re a married man with a baby.”

  “Three kids now. Two are in school and we decided to do it all again.”

  Three of them. I can’t stand this man, so how could I be jealous of him? I hate him. I hate everything about him.

  The clock on the far wall ticks steadily with every second that passes and I have to stare at it instead of him.

  “But you get some side action,” Declan questions easily.

  My thumb moves in a steady motion across the beads of water on the outside of the glass.

  “Yeah,” Jim says and leans back, breathing out. “It’s just a release.”

  Crack. The glass in my hand breaks out of nowhere. I only gripped it for a fraction of a second. The glass lays in pieces on the table, the water splashing.

  Adrenaline races through me.

  Just a release. Laura was “just a release.”

  “Sorry about that,” Declan says and I can barely hear it over the ringing in my ears.

  Just a release.

  “My friend has a strong grip.”

  My gaze falls to the prick who just referred to my Babygirl as “a release” when he speaks. “I can see that.” The nervousness is back, the jitteriness is evident.

  Declan places a hand on my forearm that’s under the table, keeping it down. With my free hand I make a fist and lay it on the table, not bothering to clean up the small bit of blood that’s there.

  If I move, I know exactly what I’ll do.

  I’ll lay into him. I envision it as Declan and he make small talk. I picture slamming my fist against his mouth. The mouth that got to kiss her.
He was able to be with her and that’s what he refers to it as? A release.

  Every time he looks at me, I hope he can see what I want to do to him. Judging by the way he averts his eyes the moment our gazes meet and how he turns paler and paler, I think he knows.

  “Give us a minute, will you?” Declan asks him kindly. He sounds so friendly, but even with all that ease he gives to the man across from us, Declan grips my forearm harder, silently letting me know what I’m feeling.

  It fucking hurts. It feels like my chest is cracked wide open and this bastard did it.

  The second the man is behind the counter, I storm out of there, shoving the door open. The harsh wind and bitter cold greet me, chilling me to the bone and I’m thankful for it.

  Thankful for anything to dull this pain and this heat that’s suffocating me.

  “A release,” I finally speak as we get to the car. My muscles are bunched, my nostrils flaring when I get in the car, barely taking anything in as my vision goes red.

  My voice trembles when Declan takes his seat, the driver’s seat. “A release. That’s what she was to him!”

  I can’t control my temper or the way my chest heaves.

  “First, don’t fuck up my car,” Declan says and I whip around to face him. A humorous smirk is waiting there for me.

  It dulls the edge of it all, but only just slightly.

  When I fall back into the seat, a hand over my eyes, my palm pressing slightly to try to calm myself down, he adds, “He’s a prick. He’s a liar. But you have to think, what did he mean to her?”

  “She was ‘a release’ to him,” I say dully, swallowing the bitter pill before looking at Declan.

  “And what was he to her?” Declan repeats, carefully with emphasis, and his hand lands on my shoulder in a way that’s meant to calm me, to get through to me.

  But all I can see is that bastard fucking my girl.

  “She’s going to have his baby.” The words choke me as I say them.

  “You know how it is. Laura’s a smart girl; she never messaged him again. He was just a release for her too.”

  My voice raises, the anger showing with a spiteful tone, “Well all that’s changed now, hasn’t it?”