Rome (Marked Men, #3)(35)

I heard the front door open and heavy footsteps make their way toward where I was in the kitchen. I was rinsing off the dishes in the sink, mostly because I needed something to do with my hands, but also because they looked like they had been there for a while. Gross.

“What are you doing here?”

The tone was not nice. There was no welcome, none of the flirty and teasing he normally tossed at me. It sounded like each word was having to fight its way out of somewhere deep in his chest and that they tasted bitter and sharp on his tongue. I wiped my hands on a dish towel and turned around to face him.

Holy hell. How was I supposed to have a coherent, grown-up conversation with the man when he was wearing only a pair of black track pants and an iPod holder wrapped around one bicep? His dark hair was even darker with sweat and all those muscles and planes that made up his amazing physique were standing out in stark relief since he wasn’t wearing a shirt and had clearly just put himself through some serious paces. That just wasn’t fair.

“The dishes. You’re welcome.”

He grunted and pulled the iPod off. He stepped past me to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. I tried not to drool in an obvious way when some of it missed his mouth and ended up running a damp trail over his chest. He just watched me with almost zero expression on his handsome, but obviously exhausted face.

“I was going to do them later this afternoon. I need to take a shower. I stink.”

I cleared my throat and leaned back against the sink. “I was hoping we could talk real quick.” And maybe he would go put a shirt on so I could form words and not sound like a moron.

He rubbed both his hands, hard, over his face and head and I noticed how really worn he actually looked. Those blue eyes were sort of faded and he had dark shadows resting underneath.

“Listen, Cora, I understand. I’m jacked up, you aren’t into it, whatever. It just messes with my already overworked mind when you tell me one thing and then look at me like you want to lick me all over like an ice cream cone in the same breath. I’m trying to figure my own shit out. I don’t have the mental fortitude or the patience to try and figure yours out as well. I just ran six miles on less than two hours of sleep. I need a shower and maybe if I’m lucky, a nap.”

He didn’t give me a chance to respond. He just turned on his sneaker and left me standing there gaping at him. For the second time in as many days, I was not only speechless but also left without being able to get a final word in. I hated it. The butt-head didn’t even give me the opportunity to apologize for being needlessly bitchy last night. I shoved off the counter and went down the hallway to the room at the back of the apartment. It was Rule’s old room when he had lived with Nash, so I knew that there was a bathroom attached.

I could hear the water running and he had the radio on somewhere in the room and it was playing Tom Petty. Oddly fitting, Rome totally struck me as a classic-rock kind of guy. His room was also neat as a pin. All those years in the military had obviously bred good habits into him. The big king-sized bed was even all made up. There wasn’t so much as a stray sock on the floor, but there also wasn’t much to define the space as his. The only personal effect that was visible was a black-and-white photo of a much younger Rome and the twins.

Rule looked like Rule, only without as much ink, and he was smiling, something he didn’t do much of until he and Shaw had figured their situation out. Rome looked tall and proud, every bit the protective older brother. And the other twin, Remy—it was crazy to see an exact replica of what Rule would look like as a typical guy—still beautiful, but so boring, so common.

I was lost in thought, staring at the photo, so I didn’t hear the water turn off. An arm shot out over my shoulder and picked the picture up. Startled I turned around and came face-to-face with Rome in a towel and that’s it. Man, this was turning into a total test of my self-control. Track pants were nice, a towel was better. He smelled clean but still looked annoyed that I was all up in his space.

“This picture has been everywhere I’ve been. I took it to basic. It went to Korea. It’s been to Pakistan and Iraq, and it just came back from Afghanistan with me. The people in it were always there to remind me what I was fighting for, who I was supposed to be keeping the country safe for.”

I put a hand to my throat and was surprised to find that his words had tears building in the back of my eyes.

“You’re lucky to have that kind of relationship with them.”

He snorted, and I had to try really hard not to reach out and snatch that tiny knot holding the towel up. I don’t know what it was about him that made my body take charge and my mind take a backseat, but it was potent and slightly unnerving. I had never been so overwhelmingly attracted to any man before, not even Jimmy.

“I thought so, too, only then I found out Remy was hiding a secret life, and that Shaw could do a better job taking care of Rule than I ever did.”

I cocked my head to the side and considered him thoughtfully. “What about you?”

He cut me a look and moved back across the room to his dresser. The backside view was just as nice as the front.

“What about me?”

“You always talk about how you fought for them, how you made choices for them. What about you? Who took care of you? Who fought to make the world a better place for you?” I asked the questions in shock, because I couldn’t really believe he didn’t realize how important he was and had always been to his brothers. Those blue eyes never wavered from mine.