Marked Men: Rome Part 6

Asa was right where I left him, only now the computer was closed and he looked like he was waiting for me to come back into the room.

"What's that all about?"

I groaned and sank down on the couch next to him.

"He was at a bar and the bartender called the shop looking for Rule. I decided to intervene since they just started working toward a cease-fire, only I had no idea what kind of drunk he was gonna be."

"What kind of drunk is that?"

"Complicated. I'm just gonna let him get straight and then send him on his way. He looks like he hasn't had a good night's sleep in days; hopefully the booze will knock him out for a few and then he can go home."

"You're a really good girl, Cora."

"I have my moments. What were you doing on the computer when we came in?"

Those eyes the color of aged bourbon glinted at me. Asa was lucky he was such an easy guy to like, because I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him, or even as far as Rome could throw him.

"Nothing. Just checking up on some things."

"Things that ended you up in the hospital? Ayden will murder you."

He laughed. "No. I'm not the sharpest tool out in the shed, but I do eventually learn the hard lessons."

"Why do I think that might not really be the case?"

"Because you are surprisingly smart for someone that looks like a living, breathing cartoon character."

I got the feeling he wasn't going to give me anything else, so I got up and made us some grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and brought us over a couple of beers. I liked hanging out with Asa, but he seemed a little sketchy tonight, and by the time midnight rolled around with no sound or motion from Rome, I was getting tired and bored of dealing with difficult men. Asa mentioned he was going to go watch TV in his room, because if he was up when Ayden got home, she was going to hara.s.s him about whatever it was she was on his case about this week. She tended to be a bit of a terror when Jet was out of town for more than a few days at a time, and her older sibling bore the brunt of it. I knew she didn't want to live alone since Jet spent so much time on the road, but dealing with the intense dynamic between the siblings was often like watching a reality TV show without the relief of commercial interruption.

I figured it wouldn't hurt anything to let Rome keep my bed for the night while I crashed on the couch. I was small and the couch was huge, so it wasn't like it would be a major inconvenience. I did, however, need to sneak into my bathroom and grab a quick shower to wash the workday off.

Asa and I said good night and I tiptoed into the darkened room. At some point in his fitful stage of blacking out, Rome had managed to not only move to the center of the bed, but also kick off his boots and strip off his T-s.h.i.+rt. Even though I knew it was wrong, I had to just stand there and stare at all that skin on display, spread out over my pink bed set. It was so odd. He was all hard muscle and male perfection amid a totally girly and ultrafeminine backdrop. It would take a guy like Rome Archer to make all my girly stuff look tough.

He had one long arm flung out to the side and the other curled up behind his head. The lines delineating muscles and tendons used to hard and strenuous work made my mouth water. I felt like a voyeur. I shouldn't be blatantly checking him out while he was pa.s.sed out and unaware, but I also couldn't muster the strength to look away. I had never seen a real-life, living breathing male that had that vee that cut between their hips and pointed downward, where a trail of dark hair disappeared into his jeans. The only men that really had that in life were underwear models, dudes on romance novel covers, and maybe professional athletes. But oh no, Rome Archer had it, as well as abs that put a six-pack to shame and endless amounts of lightly tanned skin that stretched over a canvas that looked like it was carved from stone. He was a ma.s.sive example of all that was beautiful and male. He was built like a G.o.d, and I didn't want to acknowledge it but I had never, ever seen anything look better in my bed.

He also had way more pale white scar tissue dotting that landscape of total hotness than I wanted to know about. Even with the only light filtering in from the hallway, I could see the huge scar on his shoulder where his arm was bent up under his head. It was puckered and was wider than my hand; it looked like it still hurt. He had an ugly red welt all along the opposite side on his ribs that was about ten inches long and looked like it was healing. There was a nasty white line that zigged and zagged under his belly b.u.t.ton and disappeared into the top of his jeans and that was only what I could see on his very impressive front side.

I was used to being around men and women who marked their body to define their individuality, to claim their skin as their own. Seeing those scars, those marks that he most definitely had never asked for, I had to wonder how he felt about being permanently marked up against his will. His skin also reflected his life, the choice he made to go off and become a warrior, a man who fought for the freedom of others, and now he would carry those reminders for the rest of his life. It was body modification on an entirely different level than tattooing, with a different purpose.

I gave my head a quick shake and told myself to stop being a creeper. He clearly needed the sleep since he didn't so much as twitch an eyelash as I got out an oversized T-s.h.i.+rt and a pair of shorts to sleep in. I wasn't exactly stealthy as I banged around in the bathroom and got ready for bed. It was early for a Sat.u.r.day night but no one was out and Ayden didn't like to party while Jet was gone, so it was just going to be me and cable until I zonked out. I was back in my room, trying to unplug my phone charger from the nightstand next to Rome's head. I wasn't worried about bothering him since he seemed like he was out like a light-that is, until I suddenly had a ma.s.sive hand curled around my bicep.

"Hey!" The startled word didn't get any force behind it as I was yanked down and my back met the mattress with a thud. I let out a startled shriek as the arm he had dangling over the edge of the bed curled around me and pulled me half under him as he rolled over. He weighed a freaking ton and no amount of pus.h.i.+ng at his broad shoulders seemed to have an effect on him. His dark head buried itself in the curve of my neck, his ridiculously long eyelashes were still pressed closed and brushed against my skin. His breath was coming in a steady stream as his chest rose and fell with no sign of alertness or wakefulness, even as I wiggled and squirmed to get free of his iron hold.

"Rome?" I tapped him on the side of the head lightly and felt him frown against my neck. "Hey, big guy, I need to get up."

I tried to shake him once more and he muttered something under his breath and settled more fully on top of me. One of his denim-clad legs slid between mine and the thick arm he had wrapped around me locked even more in place and that wide palm settled fully across the curve of my backside. He turned his head and rubbed his cheek against the side of my temple and sighed. It made me stop struggling for a second and I looked up so I could peer questioningly at him because the sound was just so defeated. It hurt me to hear it.

He felt like his motor was running at a thousand degrees and he had to weigh over double what I did, but he was holding on to me like I was a lifeline. Like I was a living breathing teddy bear, and whatever it was that was keeping him up at night, holding me would make it stay away. I huffed out a breath and tried to decide what the best course of action was. In hindsight I should have just given the bartender Rule's number and let him be caught up in this mess, but as usual I had to meddle. No good deed went unpunished.

There was no way I was getting free unless I kneed him in the junk or punched him in the face to wake him up, and that just seemed a little too extreme. I felt bad for the guy. He was obviously struggling, and clearly a bad day didn't begin to cover what he was trying to drink away. I figured it wouldn't kill me to just lie still until he rolled over or loosened his hold. Plus it had the added benefit of letting me enjoy all that hardness that battle-ready body pressed against mine. I doubted that I would ever have an opportunity like it again. The landscape of my s.e.xual experience was pretty barren over the last few years. There had been a guy here or there, but not one that I had wanted to hang out with for more than a minute and none could ever compare to the sheer physical perfection of the guy I was trapped under right now.

I sighed in resignation and tried to wiggle a little in order to get some more breathing room. Rome just tightened his hold even more and settled more fully into me. I relented and wrapped one arm around his shoulders; they were so wide, so broad, I could barely reach the other side. I put the other hand on his ribs, right above that healing wound. I kept my eyes on the ceiling and not the clock, figuring he would get uncomfortable, realize he wasn't alone anymore, and roll over at any second. Only at some point I heard the front door open and Ayden's heels on the floor in the hallway, which meant it was well past two in the morning and my human blanket hadn't moved a muscle. I had been pinned to the bed for over two hours, and it didn't look like I was getting free before dawn.

Finally I was too tired to just stare at the side of his sleeping face or wonder at all the little nicks and tiny marks that dotted his skin. This close to him the scar above his eyebrow was really wicked-looking. It hooked from the arch up into his hairline and spidered off to web across his temple. It looked like he was a very lucky man to still have a functioning eyeball on that side of his handsome face. There was history there, a life lived hard and dangerously mapped out across his skin for the entire world to see and judge. It made Rome an even more difficult man for me to try and figure out, and frankly I was exhausted by all of it. My last thought before I gave up the fight of trying to wait him out was that not once in all the years Jimmy and I had shared a bed had he ever held me this close, like he never wanted me to go.

I wasn't sure what had me stirring awake-if it was the sun coming in the blinds, if it was the feeling of being covered by an electric blanket in the middle of summer, or if it was the impossible-to-ignore fact that I wasn't in my frilly pink bed alone. I squinted against the morning light coming in the room, but all I could see for days and days was blue. A blue that no words could describe, a blue that was so hot and bright I felt like it could burn me alive from the inside out. I opened my mouth to ask Rome if he was feeling all right, to tell him to get the h.e.l.l off of me, but nothing came out. We just stared at each other and the lack of clothing between us suddenly became a noticeable thing. I could feel his heart thundering against my own where our chests were pressed together, could feel his sides rise and fall as he sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, could feel the hardness of an erection that needed its own zip code press against the softness between my legs, not protected at all by my tiny sleep shorts. This was a compromising situation to be in any way you looked at it, and considering we were practically strangers, my normally nimble tongue was having a hard time finding its defenses.

His hand that was holding on to my b.u.t.t gave the cheek a squeeze and I thought he was going to lever himself up and off of me, but he didn't. He used the other hand to hold his considerable bulk up off of me for the first time in hours and his free hand lifted and I went frozen still as he used it to oh so gently trace the curve of my bottom lip where my mouth was still hanging open like a dimwit. Hands that big, that rough, shouldn't be capable of being so reverent, so delicate. It made me gasp.

I should say something. He should say something. Neither of us did, though, and when those pretty, sad eyes moved closer to mine, when that mouth surrounded by a s.e.xy shadow of scruff dropped to cover mine, all I could do was lie there and take it like it was inevitable. I had been kissed plenty in my lifetime-by good boys and bad boys, by boys I liked and boys I didn't, by boys I spent just a minute with and boys I had spent years with, but no one had ever kissed me like this. Something happened when that firm mouth settled over mine. My brain short-circuited, my common sense and basic rationality took a hike, and all I was left with was a bundle of raging hormones and a desire so sharp and pointed it almost hurt when it started to pulse under my skin.

I was surrounded by him, engulfed by him. He was just everywhere and it was overwhelming. I knew I should tell him to stop, that this wasn't right. I didn't do this kind of thing and I had a feeling he was still cut open and bleeding from whatever had sent him over the edge last night, but the words just wouldn't come and it wasn't like I could have used them if they did. His mouth was hard on mine, his tongue invading every corner, every hidden place I had in my mouth. Neither one of us had very much hair to hold on to, so I had to settle for grabbing on to his ears to keep him in place. I should be pus.h.i.+ng him away, not pulling him closer, but there was no way that was going to happen, not with all that brawn pus.h.i.+ng against me and those eyes making me drown in them.

I kissed him back, because really that was all I could do. I slid my tongue against his, let my teeth find the soft inner side of his lip, wrapped an arm around his neck, and we devoured each other. There was no other way to describe it. We writhed together, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against my bare legs, his hands holding me in a grip that I couldn't break free from if I wanted to. We kissed, we sucked, we bit, and somewhere along the line it went from some kind of spontaneous combustion to a slow burn that had me wrapping a leg around his lean waist and not protesting when impatient hands started pulling at the T-s.h.i.+rt I went to bed in.

This was too fast, it was too wrong. He was not the kind of guy I had been holding out for. He was as far from my idea of perfect as could be, but there was no arguing that he fit the bill for building me up to something tingling and achy in no time flat. I gasped a little when the fabric cleared my head. I hadn't been naked with a guy in a really long time, and getting naked with this guy was all kinds of intimidating. Where he was all smooth skin and perfectly cut muscles, I was all swirly colors inked on skin that had a tendency to tan but was also dusted in freckles. Besides my left arm, I had a riot of lilies inked along my rib cage on the left side. They were bright, full of every color under the sun, and the stamen on each of them was decorated with a transdermal piercing. I had four or five little rhinestones that twinkled and winked from the center of each flower. It was something I was sure this serious and intense soldier had never seen before, but it didn't slow him down. He tossed my s.h.i.+rt over his shoulder and touched the tip of his index finger to one, which made me s.h.i.+ver. We still hadn't exchanged a single word and things were quickly moving out of hand. I was running out of room to make a graceful escape.

I put a hand on the center of his chest, spread my fingers wide, and tried to marshal my wayward and heady thoughts. I needed a minute to catch my breath, a second to remember we were not two people who had things in common, who would not normally exist in each other's world. He didn't give it to me. He was rubbing his thumb between the little jewels dotting my side. He didn't seem weirded out by it or unnerved by it or all the ink that was now on display, in fact not once had he pulled that hypnotic blue gaze away from my own. He put his huge hand over mine so that it forced my palm flat against his skin. I didn't like to be bossed around by anyone, at any time, but something was happening to me, to us, and I just couldn't seem to stop it. He dragged my hand over his breastbone, across that corrugated and taut plane of his stomach, over his belly b.u.t.ton, and down that light happy trail, stopping when he reached the stiff material of his fly, the heat and hardness of his skin behind it burning instantly through the fabric into my fingers. He didn't press me any further. He removed his hand and lifted it to brush his thumb over my cheek. He was giving me an out if I wanted it; somehow without one syllable this guy said more to me than any other guy I could ever remember going to bed with.

It was right there hovering on the periphery-sanity, logic, rationality; all the things I needed to grab on to in order to stop this. They were hazy and foggy, but they were there and Rome was giving me a chance to grab on to them if that was what I wanted to do, and all at once I realized the refrain about him being a good guy at heart had to be true. He wasn't pus.h.i.+ng, he wasn't trying to take advantage even though he was so much bigger than me and could obviously force his hand if so inclined. He was making it my call and I was about to surprise us both because I couldn't resist the allure of all that rock-hard skin throbbing under my fingertips. I wanted to see it, wanted to touch it, wanted to see if it was as big and hard as the rest of him. I hooked just the tips of my fingers in the top of his jeans and popped the b.u.t.ton out of the hole.

He hissed a breath out between clenched teeth and dropped his head so that he could get his mouth around the tip of one of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. It was so startling, the suction, and the moisture, the rough sc.r.a.pe of his morning beard across my skin, that I arched up and threw my head back. I wasn't overly endowed, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s were like the rest of me, on the small side and delicate, but they were supersensitive. When he ran his tongue over the quivering peak, when he sc.r.a.ped the pebbled flesh with the sharp edge of his teeth, I was done. There was no more thought to try and act right, no more worry that I didn't even know him that well, I just wanted and needed and he was going to give it to me. End of story.

I shoved both of my hands between us, got his zipper down without wounding him, and started pulling the denim off over his hips. No underwear, that was always hot, and he wasn't shy because he levered up and shoved the pants the rest of the way off. They fell on the floor next to my discarded s.h.i.+rt, and while he crawled back up over me I took a second to check out the goods and felt my eyes widen in alarm. I wasn't a prude, I knew dudes' business came in all shapes and sizes, I was intimately familiar with the good, bad, and the ugly. It was a hazard of my profession, but Rome was packing something that I wasn't sure anatomy and biology were going to let happen. Needless to say, he was huge, everywhere, and I was small, everywhere. I was thinking I needed to rethink this entire thing and start acting like the smart, responsible person I was, but he got his hands on my shorts and my panties and I was naked and splayed under him before the protest and panic could find footing. There was no way we were going to fit, even if I was so turned on I felt like everywhere our skin touched we were going to end up welded together. I could feel desire and liquid want pooling between my legs, saw that he felt it, too, when his eyes flashed cobalt sparks in every direction. I didn't care how s.e.xy he was, how unholy hot and bothered he had me, there was no way that weapon of ma.s.s destruction was going to work its way inside my body.

My apprehension must have been displayed on my face, because the eyebrow under the scar danced up and he finally stopped touching me, stopped dropping sucking little kisses along my collarbone, and stopped running featherlight fingertips over the flowers decorating my side. He stared down at me and I was fascinated by a drop of sweat that started at his temple and crested over his cheek, wound its way down his neck, and tracked over a pec muscle that looked like it belonged on a marble statue. I wasn't familiar with this kind of restraint, this kind of will, so I just traced the track that little drop of moisture had trailed and stopped at his nipple.

"That's never going to fit."

The words were strangled, like I hadn't had anything to drink in a hundred years or more. We were so close, this was so raw and open I didn't know what to do with him, or with me. My words were meant to be funny, to slow things down, but I sounded scared, even to my own ears, and I knew it wasn't just because he was far more than any man I had ever been with, or maybe it was.

That single dark eyebrow danced even higher and that little half grin that undid me the other day flashed across his face. I guess he decided that my words were a challenge and not a warning because the next thing I knew, all his attention switched to that already damp and needy place between my legs. He pressed my legs open with one of his thighs, pulled my hips up, and delved his fingers into folds that were achy and electrified by his touch. He was about to find another surprise that guys only got to see, got to touch, when I took my clothes off, and I felt it the instant his questing fingers made contact with the small little hoop hidden down there.

Once he touched it, he stilled, just a fraction. I had had the hood piercing for as long as I could remember. Initially I got it because I thought it was edgy and cool; now that I was older I kept it because I had had enough s.e.x with enough guys that needed a d.a.m.n bull's-eye to get to the good stuff. Rome wasn't one of those, he also wasn't scared or put off by it. He gave the ring a little tug that had my eyes rolling back into my head and made me pant out his name. Seeing the results, he played with the slippery metal while playing with the rest of me, creating a tidal wave of sensation that was going to make me break at any second. He touched, me, stroked me, rubbed his thumb steadily and unrelenting over the hoop and the tight little bud underneath it. He worked me over like it had never been done before, and just as I was grinding into him, pressing my heels into the mattress of the bed, splitting in half and seeing stars, he removed those skilled fingers, s.h.i.+fted me under him, and pushed all that turgid, straining flesh inside of me. I wasn't ready for it, but he slid in up to the hilt and filled me up to the point I thought I was going to suffocate on all I was feeling, all I could see was blazing out of his bright eyes.

He stayed still for a second, waiting to see if I was going to push him away, tell him it was too much. At any other time I would have appreciated his restraint; right now I wanted to choke him. I felt impaled, pinned, stuck, and I hated that I loved it. This was an aspect to s.e.x I had never experienced before, it added an element that took things to a different level.

"Okay?"

It was the only word he had spoken since this all began and really it was more just a breath of sound. I knew if I told him no, that it hurt, that it was too much, he would stop, let me out from under him, and walk away without question, so it was that instinctual understanding that had me giving him the barest of nods and sliding my hands up around his neck. I wanted to see him finish, wanted to know what happened to those spectacular eyes when he went over the edge. I was all in anyway, there was no point in reining it in now.

He moved slowly at first, I think there was a legitimate fear there that he could indeed do some serious damage with that weapon of his, but he had done an excellent job of priming me, of getting me ready for him, so soon I was writhing restlessly under him and urging him to move faster, go harder, to just let go. He was good at reading the cues, he watched my face, eyes locked on mine, and before I knew it both legs were up high on his waist and he was driving into me like he was trying to put me through the other side of the mattress. It was awesome.

The muscles on the side of his neck corded, a fine sheen of sweat pebbled up on those ma.s.sive pecs, his biceps bulged just enough to offer a very nice show, and those eyes, man oh man, those eyes lit up like the fireworks display he had missed on the Fourth. Silver sparks exploded from the center, chasing midnight-blue lightning as he grunted his release and dropped his forehead to the crook of my neck. He was careful not to collapse his whole weight on me, careful to set my legs back down, careful to pull out nice and slow, which made both of us gasp.

He flopped back on his back and we both stared at the ceiling while breathing hard and still not talking. I wasn't sure what there was to say. In all my visions of what I was doing, of who I was waiting for, there had never once been a glimpse of anyone like Rome Archer. I sort of marveled that he seemed to be blocking out not only the sun, but whatever else was standing on that horizon waiting for me. He was a problem that literally was going to be too d.a.m.n big to ignore, not that I wasn't going to try and do exactly that until I figured out what in the h.e.l.l I had just done and what exactly it meant to all my carefully constructed plans.

CHAPTER 6.

Rome

I thought I was dreaming. Somewhere between the haze of blood and death, and the swirly nauseating feeling of being almost blackout drunk, I had a dream that a pixie came in and saved me from everything. It was all a blur after the fifth or sixth drink. All I knew was that the mind-numbing effects of alcohol, and Brite's gentle, kind reminders that the s.h.i.+tty things in life could not be directly tied to me, were the only things that kept me from going completely off the rails.

When I pried my eyes open because the sun was b.i.t.c.h-slapping me across the face, I had no idea where I was. h.e.l.l, I barely knew who I was: my head was throbbing, I felt a little like I was going to hurl, and all I knew was that I was surrounded by wall-to-wall pink. I also had all kinds of soft feminine curves trapped under me and she smelled like cotton candy and flowers. It had to be a dream because at no point in my reality did I ever get to wake up after a c.r.a.p day to end all c.r.a.p days and have those amazing two-toned eyes looking up at me with trepidation, but also with a healthy dose of admiration. Therefore it had to be a dream, and since I was dreaming, I was going to do what I had been dying to do since she called me Captain No-Fun and smirked at me like she already knew all my dark and dirty secrets. I was going to kiss that sa.s.sy mouth until neither one of us could breathe, until my head stopped hurting, until I forgot what had put me in such a vulnerable, sorry state in the first place.

Only I had no idea a simple kiss with this tiny, bossy, mouthy girl was going to turn my head around. I wanted to kiss her because she was cute, and soft, and I really did think she had the prettiest eyes I had ever seen, but mostly I wanted to kiss her because I knew she would tell me to stop, that she would no doubt push me away and get worked up into a tizzy of righteous indignation. I was already feeling about as low as I could, so there was no harm in taking it one step further.

Cora apparently didn't play by any normal set of rules, though. She did the opposite of what I expected, and before too long I was too scared to talk, too freaked out to even breathe, because I was worried that one slight movement in the wrong direction and she would call a halt to the only thing that had made me feel good in a really long time. It still felt like a dream, but she was so hot, so d.a.m.n unexpected, it now felt like a dream come true.

When it was all over, as I lay there panting and trying to think of an appropriate response, because "thank you" just wouldn't cut it, she rolled off the other side of the big bed and looked down at me with eyes that were both bright and s.h.i.+ny and dark and swirling. That dual-color thing really was kind of a trip.

"I'm going to take a shower and then you need to take me to get my car from that hole in the wall you were at yesterday."

She turned around to rummage through a tiny closet on the other side of the very pink room and I took a moment to admire the view. She was lithe, all smooth lines and colorfully decorated skin. She had some kind of Asian-inspired water-and-fire image tattooed around the top of one thigh that danced almost to her knee, those flowers on her ribs with the shower of jewels implanted in her skin on her side, and that arm that had every flower known to man inked on it. She was pet.i.te but man, did she pack a punch. Who knew metal in places I never imagined a chick would want to put it would be so hot, be such an unbelievable turn-on. Everything about this girl was a surprise.

"Uhh ... not that I'm not grateful for it, but how exactly did I end up here?" The in bed with you I left unspoken.

She put on a short robe that had tiny silver stars all over it and looked silky and s.h.i.+ny. She glanced at me over her shoulder and ran her hands over her short hair. I reached over the side of the bed and started to pull my jeans back on, but I had to take a second because my head started to throb in time to my heartbeat.

"The bartender called the shop looking for Rule but he was gone already. He was dealing with the crisis of being a new homeowner and Nash wasn't at the apartment. You weren't in any condition to be left alone, so I brought you here."

Not only was she smoking hot but underneath all that sa.s.s there was a really big heart. I was a lot to handle on a good day, and knowing where I had been at yesterday before the booze flooded my system, she was pretty brave to try and tackle all that on her own. Most people wouldn't do that for a virtual stranger. I rubbed hard hands over my supershort buzz cut; this hadn't been totally awkward thus far, but now it felt more personal.

She didn't say anything else, just disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the shower go on. I found my s.h.i.+rt wadded up in a pile with my boots and finished getting dressed. I smelled like s.e.x and day-old booze. I smelled just like Rule used to smell all the time. The wayward thought of my brother had me absently searching for my phone and my keys. I should have given Brite better instructions before getting tanked yesterday. Not that Cora seemed in any hurry to try and rake me over the coals, but this had all the hallmarks of a situation that could go slanted in a heartbeat and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something I was forgetting.

Not sure what to do with myself in the outrageously girly room, I decided to brave the wild and go in search of a gla.s.s of water and maybe some painkillers for my head. The house was tiny and cute. Cora's eclectic style was on display throughout. The couch was purple, the rugs were polka dot, and I a.s.sumed the ma.s.sive flat screen and game systems had to belong to Jet because they were the only things in the living room not splashed with color. I found the kitchen in the back of the house and cringed inwardly when I saw it wasn't empty.

Asa was at the little table drinking a cup of coffee and seemingly ignoring his sister, who was grilling him about something. Both sets of amber eyes got wide when I walked into the room. Asa lifted an eyebrow and Ayden blinked like she had no idea who I was. I felt an embarra.s.sed flush start to crawl up my neck and cleared my throat. I wished to G.o.d I could remember what, if anything, I had done last night.

"Uh, hey."

I gratefully accepted the mug of coffee Asa handed to me and propped a hip up on the counter while they continued to stare at me.

"Is that your truck outside?" I liked Ayden's voice. It was tinted with just a hint of the South and all soft and smooth. I liked those long legs of hers in her running pants, too, but Jet was like a brother to me, so there was no way I would ever admit that aloud.

"Yeah. I needed a DD and Cora decided to be it."

"You spent the night?"

I didn't like the third degree, I was used to being on the other side of it.

"Yeah, well, I blacked out in her bed, so there really wasn't a choice."

I could see Asa doing the math in his head that Cora hadn't been on the couch or anywhere else this morning.

"Interesting." Asa just chuckled and didn't say anything, for which I was eternally grateful. There was just something about the way he looked at you, something about the way he sized you up, that was unnerving and unsettling.

"What's interesting?" Cora came in the room smelling clean and fresh. I tried not to notice I had left whisker burn all along her jaw and throat.

Ayden made a face and handed her a banana. "That you had to take care of the supposedly responsible Archer last night."

Cora frowned and moved past me back toward the living room. She had on black shorts with a wide waist and a black-and-white-striped top that was missing most of the back. The only thing holding it up seemed to be a giant bow in the back; her rib tattoo with all its winking jewels was totally visible.

"We all have bad days. I need to get my car, are you ready?"

I nodded and handed Asa back the coffee mug. We exchanged a little nod, like he understood the potential for this to be the most awkward thing in the world, and I gave Ayden a small little grin. She lifted her eyebrows back at me and took my spot against the counter. I knew as soon as we left they would be picking apart what my stay-over meant.

I noticed Cora seemed to be moving a little more slowly than her usual hyperkinetic way. I wanted to ask her if I had hurt her, she was so much smaller than the girls I normally went to bed with, but we seemed to be on the same page about leaving the deed in no-man's-land and I didn't want to rock the boat. She fished my keys out of her bag and threw them at me.

"I left your wallet and phone in the glove box."

"Did I do, or say, anything out of hand last night?"

I needed to know if I owed her an apology for anything ... well, for anything besides devouring her like she was my last meal.

"No. You were just sad, really sad."

I didn't know if that meant I was feeling sad, or that I was sad as in she felt sorry for me. There was no way I could look her in the eye ever again if that had been a pity f.u.c.k. It was too good, too intense, and if she just felt sorry for me, I would never be able to look myself in the mirror as a man again.

"I got a phone call from the desert yesterday. It was bad."

I pulled into the traffic and headed toward Broadway. I needed to find out if I had made an a.s.s out of myself to Brite and the gang at the bar as well.

"So you said. You also mentioned that you being home makes you somehow responsible for what happened, which I hope you know is nuts. People whose job it is to fight a war have a high risk that they may end up injured or killed, you should know that. You being here or there makes no difference in the matter."

I sighed and tightened my hands on the steering wheel. "It doesn't matter. When I was deployed my brother died, when I'm here men in my unit die. I just can't get away from it and yet somehow every single time I manage to sc.r.a.pe by just past death's door."

She looked at me out of those odd eyes, compa.s.sion in the blue one, censure and warning in the coffee-colored one.

"That's too much for one person to try and carry around all the time, Rome. You can't be responsible for everyone or feel guilty all the time for being one of lucky ones."

"Like you?" I cut a sideways look at her. "You run around rescuing those guys, Shaw and Ayden, and now me. You want to save everyone just as much as I do." I wasn't going to touch the guilty part of that statement.

"Yeah, I do, only the difference is that when they suffer from their own choices, I don't take the responsibility for it. When Rule was acting like an idiot and walked away from Shaw, that wasn't my fault. When Ayden was pretending like she could live without Jet, that had nothing to do with me. I'm just there to love them through it and pick up the pieces after. You think that you directly impact the bad things and that's just stupid."

She kind of had a point, so I didn't answer her and as such we spent the rest of the ride in silence. I turned on the radio and let old Pink Floyd fill the cab. When we got to the bar I pulled around back and she pointed to a ridiculous Mini Cooper that was painted a bright neon green. Of course that's what she drove. I wouldn't even fit in the thing. I pulled up next to it and killed the engine. I leaned across the seat and dug my stuff out of the glove box. I didn't miss the way her breath caught when my arm brushed across her chest.