Rome (Marked Men #3)(27)

The muscles on the side of his neck corded, a fine sheen of sweat pebbled up on those massive 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 damn big to ignore, not that I wasn’t going to try and do exactly that until I figured out what in the hell 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 shitty 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 bitch-slapping me across the face, I had no idea where I was. Hell, 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 crap day to end all crap 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 sassy 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 damn 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 shiny 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 petite 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 shiny. 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 sass 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.