Page 9 of Merciless

“For Beth—”

“For you both,” she interrupted, pressing her hand on my thigh for comfort.

Unwilling and unwanted, tears began to run down my face.

I shouldn’t have needed recognition. I didn’t deserve sympathy. Beth was the one who had to take on the worst of it. But I couldn’t deny the relief that blossomed from the mere fact that someone—anyone—had acknowledged my pain, too.

As I tried to regain control of myself and detangle my emotional mind, I’d already missed the cues until it was too late.

Blood and heat rushed between my legs as my shaft steadily hardened under the rhythmic pressure of Nikita’s hand rubbing over the zipper of my jeans.

I was frozen, completely caught off guard, where my bodily instincts naturally took over.

My groin unintentionally twitched forward, seeking the pleasure I hadn’t experienced in months. This is wrong, so fucking wrong.

As my brain melted within my skull, my last preservation had my fingers gripping onto the steering wheel. With my eyes tightly shut, I finally gritted out, “We can’t do this. We can’t fucking do this.”

“I just want to take care of you. It doesn’t have to be anything, William. You’ve been so strong for everyone else. Just let me take care of you this once.”

And with a minute nod of my head, I let her take care of me with her steady hands. Except that one lie soon turned into a web of reoccurring betrayals.

Despite the guilt that plagued my every waking moment, whenever Beth had a health scare and I was out of my mind with fear, Nikita was there—to support her best friend, but also me. With her palm, her mouth and eventually, with sex.

Although our trysts were always emotionally charged and driven, our affair had gotten out of hand and progressed for eight months. I was in downright denial, right up until I was caught red-handed by my son.

How did I explain to him that it was nothing? That what he had witnessed was only a physical stress release for us both? That I cared for Nikita as a friend and nothing more?

Although it was hard to reconcile, I wasn’t lying to Colton when I said his mother was the truest love of my life. Bethany would forever remain so. Despite my faithless acts, despite my deepest regrets of betraying our marriage in her final days.

How do I live with myself? Why should I bother?

My miserable inner monologue was interrupted by someone barging into my room, quickly followed by the curtains being ripped open, my eyes burning from the blinding sun.

“You’ve wallowed long enough. You’re going to kill yourself,” Nikita snapped, picking up all the clothes thrown on the floor.

“Get out.”

“No.”

I bolted upright, my swollen eyes boring into her with loathing. “GET OUT!” I roared.

“NO! I’m not leaving you alone in this, Will.”

“I don’t want you!” I want my wife. I want my son.

“I know,” she said with a sigh. Then she went straight for my jugular. “But she isn’t here. He isn’t here. I’m all you’ve got left.”

Her words were like spikes that pierced directly into my chest.

Nikita had been a mere distraction—one that cost me everything. And yet she only spoke the truth.

Chapter 6

WILLIAM

Nikita came every day without fail, despite my refusals and atrocious mood swings.

I was an unbridled, emotional mess, going from straight up screaming to not saying a word, then hardly daring to breathe at all. Still, she didn’t let up.