Locked Hearts (Chained Hearts Duet 2)

“Hello, sweetheart. I’ve missed you, lollipop.”

Well fuck! My whole body locks tight.

My feet halt immediately and my mouth opens at those words, that voice.

I’m dreaming, right? Because, believe me, I’ve dreamed of Keir constantly.

He’s like a devil haunting your dreams—that’s exactly who Keir is, a man but also a monster.

My very own devil.

“What’s wrong, lollipop?”

I feel him now, his breath is tickling the back of my ear. He’s close, so close, and now I can smell him. Every sense is heightened to his presence.

Wake up.

Wake up.

But I don’t because he’s real.

And now he’s standing directly in front of me.

Butterflies take flight in my stomach—black ones because that’s what he’s known for. My hands touch together and I feel the sweat beading on the skin. I bite my lip as I look at Keir.

He shouldn’t be here.

Why is he here?

How is he here?

That hard face stares back at me with a small, unnerving smile on his lips as his eyes travel the length of me, which leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake. When those dark eyes land on my stomach, he pauses, softening for a fraction. His mouth twitches before he turns around to look at the house, then back at me, his eyes darken and he becomes demanding once again. “Inside… we need to talk.”

“No.” It’s the first word I’ve managed to spit out at him, and it leaves my mouth stronger than I thought it would.

Keir’s head drops to the side. “We. Need. To. Talk.” The anger brewing within him slices through each syllable.

His anger is palpable.

Unmistakable.

Blatant.

“Not today, I have things to do.”

“You have nothing to do. I followed you from work.”

“Stalker,” I whisper under my breath. Not that this information is at all surprising to me.

“Proud of it,” he replies at hearing my words. “Now, where do you want to talk? Because I am not leaving until we do.”

Okay, I know he won’t give up until he gets what he wants. But why now? Why here? I stuff the groan that wants to leave my throat and the instinct to touch him, or run, both are fighting to gain position in my mind right now.

“What are you going to do? Camp out front?” My hand goes to my hip, and I feel my skin blush as my temper flares.

“Yes,” he replies. “Until I get what I want, and you know I will get… what… I… want!”

Pushing past him, I stomp my way to the front door and hear his footsteps right behind me. He won’t give up, he won’t leave until I submit to him.

Fuck! I struggle with the lock since I’m rushing, but as soon as it turns, I step inside and quickly slam the door behind me, locking it. Even though I know he can get in if he wants, I eventually hear his chuckle before his footsteps fade away.

Rushing to the window, I see him leaning against a black sports car with one foot over the other.

Surely, he won’t stay there.

Will he?

He does, all night.

I check every time I need to use the bathroom, and believe me, that’s a lot.

More than a lot.

This baby loves to push on my bladder.

As I enter my room, I check the time as I trudge back to the bed—it’s four in the morning. The light is on in his car, and he’s checking something on his phone.

And that’s when it happens.

That’s when my water breaks.

Shit.

My heartbeat accelerates, my palms going clammy as I grab both the baby bag and mine with shaky hands.

Now is the time.

I am going to meet my baby.

Adrenaline, excitement, and fear swirl together inside me.

Once I have everything, I pull open the front door and pause when my eyes meet his across the driveway. His gaze falls to my stomach, and I watch in horror as he gets out of his car and makes his way toward me. I changed my pants, but even with the protection I am wearing the new ones are getting a little wet the longer I stand. His eyes drift to the two bags in my hands, and he leans forward, taking them from me without my consent—not that I fight him on it—then locks those dark, dangerous eyes on me and firmly states, “I’ll drive.”

I want to tell him “no” once again, but as soon as the word tries to escape me, I feel the first contraction and it hits me hard. I double over when it runs through my lower back, causing me to almost double over and lose my footing.

“I’ll carry you.” As the contraction ebbs, he lifts me. I want to argue, tell him that he shouldn’t be touching me, but I’m not sure I want to be alone right now. My hands go around his neck, and my eyes find his. The man is striding as if he’s on a mission, both bags still in hand as he carries me effortlessly.