Rome (Marked Men #3)(23)

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.