Rome: A Marked Men Novel (11 page)

gone away, I knew there was no way I could risk my heart and dreams on someone who wasn’t ready to

offer me forever, stability, and family ever again.

He blinked his eyes at me and we had a stare-down; for a second I wasn’t sure if he was going to scoop

me up or push me down. Instead he just shook his head and whispered so quietly that I thought it could

have been my imagination had I not seen his lips move, “That’s good, because most of the time I’m fucking

scared shitless of myself.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I took his rock-hard arm and half tugged, half guided him into the

house. Asa was propped up on the sofa doing something on the computer and I could have sworn a look of

guilt flashed quickly over his face. He gave me and my unwanted guest a questioning look and went to

lumber to his feet. I waved him back down and kept tugging Rome across the living room, past the kitchen,

to where the master bedroom was located.

“Don’t get up. I’ll put him in my room in case all that booze tries to come back up and he needs the

bathroom close by. He just needs a little nap.”

Both blond eyebrows went up. “He couldn’t have taken one at his house?”

“Not now, Asa.”

Rome stumbled and knocked a picture of me and the guys at the shop off the wall. I was fast enough to

catch it before it hit the floor, but not strong enough to keep him upright as he toppled into the open

doorway of my room. Luckily it was an older house and the room wasn’t giant, so he half hit the king-sized

bed. It took a little bit of work, some tugging and pulling, some swearing and grumbling, to get that big

body spread across hot-pink comforter. He was breathing hard, his eyes slid closed, and I didn’t bother to

try and make him any more comfortable or tell him where the facilities were. I just left him alone, figuring

sleep was the best thing for him.

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 harass 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-shirt. 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 passed 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 massive example of all that was beautiful and male. He was built like a god, 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 button 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-shirt 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

Saturday 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 massive 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

pushing 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 sexual 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 hell 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