“Liar.” Both the word, and the harshness with which it was delivered shocked me.
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re a fucking liar.”
“I don’t know wha—” I had no idea what the fuck was happening.
“Don’t even bother try to smooth this over. You just stood there and told me a bare-faced lie, and I’m calling you on it.”
“Calling me on what? I can’t say I know what you’re going through, or truthfully say I know you got this, because I don’t have a crystal ball. But the one thing I do know is that I’m here for you. I have been, and I’ll continue to be for as long as you need me.”
“You keep telling yourself that bunch of hypocritical bullshit to make yourself feel better, but over here in the real world, I know the fucking truth.” This was insane. I knew it was the stress or withdrawal, or whatever speaking, but that didn’t make his words any easier to swallow, or help me to take them less to heart, even though I knew it probably wasn’t personal. He was hurting, and lashing out at whoever was within arm’s reach. It was my bad luck that at that point in time, I was the only person he could take his frustrations out on without causing a scene. .
“It’s true. I’m standing right here, aren’t I?” Letting you use me as your emotional punchbag.
“Yeah, but you can’t, or won’t give me what I want.”
“What are you talking about? I just said I would. What do you want?”
“This.” His lips crashed into mine, and in the micro second it took me to comprehend what was happening, no, what he’d done, a myriad of thoughts raced through my mind at nauseating speed.
I was shocked. I was outraged. I was humiliated. I was angry. I was turned on. I was guilty. It was mere moments, nano-moments, even, and then it was over, because I pushed him away forcefully, lashing out at his face as a gut reaction. The movement stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t think, feel, or move.
“I deserved that.” His body was still stiff with anger, yet somehow he seemed calmer than he was just a few moments earlier. I, on the other hand, was anything but.
“Yes, you fucking did, and much more besides. I mean, I’m sorry I hit you, but you were totally out of line. Don’t you ever—” I prodded him in the chest, punctuating each word.
“I know. I won’t. I was out of order.”
“Damned right you were. You know what? You’re right. I fucking lied. Not just to you, but to myself. I thought I could be here for this. I thought I could give you what you needed, but I was kidding myself.”
I turned to make my way back into the reception area, but Rome caught my wrist. I couldn’t ignore the zing of raw energy that pinged between us, but I attempted to do exactly that. I looked down at his hand as though he’d branded me with a hot poker.
“Stop it.” He stood stock still, apart from the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathed harder and faster.
“I mean it Row. You need to let me go.” I wasn’t just referring to the way he was gripping my wrist.
I tugged my arm out of his still-tight grasp, and walked across the car lot to the entrance of the reception room, then went inside without looking back. I made my way straight over to the bar serving area and asked for two glasses of champagne, and at the risk of seeming like a terrible funeral guest, sank them both as quickly, and discreetly as possible.
“I want to put something other than champagne in that hot little mouth of yours.” I’d just swallowed the last mouthful of the second glass. King’s lips grazed the shell of my ear as he spoke, his voice low, urgent, and uncharacteristically gruff. He’d placed a hand either side of me on the bar, and thrust his very obvious erection into my butt. I looked down at his hands as they gripped the lush mahogany so tightly, his knuckles were white.
What the fuck was going on? His behavior was as out of character as it was inappropriate. He tilted his hips and thrust against me harder.
“King, we’re in a roomful of people, at your grandmother’s funeral, of all places.”
“You don’t need to tell me, I’m well aware of where I fucking am.” His voice was a menacing growl this time. “I’m also aware that you had no such fucking reservations when you were kissing my best friend in the parking lot outside the same funeral, while I mourned inside.” Shit. Shit. Fuck.
“That wasn’t what it looked like. I mean—”
“The hell it wasn’t. Why are you even with me, when it’s him you love?” His words were slightly slurred, and the heady scent of fine bourbon permeated the air around us. He was grieving, and clearly drunk, but that was no excuse for being as much of an asshole as he was.
Not wanting to cause a scene, I kept my voice to an urgent whisper. “We’re not doing this here. I refuse to be that person. I’m going to walk away, and you are not going to follow me, or make any attempt to stop me. Please offer my condolences, and apologies to your parents for leaving without saying goodbye, tell them there was a situation with Rome, and I had to leave.”
“Rome. It’s always about fucking Rome.”
“Jesus Christ, King, do you even hear yourself? My leaving has nothing to do with Rome, and everything to do with the way you’re acting. Tell them I have a migraine if it makes you feel better. Right here, right now is neither the time nor the place for this.” I gritted my teeth, reducing my voice to a hiss. “Do. Not. Follow. Me.”
Chapter 10
Rome
“Quincy! Quincy? Where the fuck are you. Quin? Q!” King’s angry bark jolted me out of what had been a fitful and patchy sleep, having returned to the suite after the blow up with Quincy. I was thankful that there was no alcohol anywhere, but I’d still needed to keep myself busy to avoid the temptation to go down to the hotel bar, or order room service.
In the end, a porn and jerk-off marathon had been the only thing to keep me relatively sane. When that got old, I’d dozed fitfully, normally woken up by haunting images of Quincy that would dissolve as soon as I opened my eyes. One time I even had patchy tears drying on my cheeks, but no idea what had caused them.
“Quincy. I know you’re in there. You came back here to be with him. To fuck him.”
The door to my room flew open, banging against the wall, then rebounding again, almost hitting King as he shambled in. Oh shit. He was blasted. I didn’t bother to try to cover up my junk, as my Quin dream-induced erection died a death. It wouldn’t even have registered in his mind as a thing, anyway because it really wasn’t a thing. Plus, he’d barged into my room, so he deserved whatever he saw.
“Where is she?”
“Who?” I knew who he meant, but I was in a foul mood, and not about to throw him a lifeline. In fact, I was ready to have a little fun baiting him. Sadistically, I was secretly enjoying the fact that for once, I wasn’t the only one feeling wretched, and I definitely wasn’t the only fuck up in the room, or even the worst. That crown was sitting firmly on King’s regal head, and I was there for that. It made a nice fucking change.
“Don’t give me that shit, Rome. I know she’s here.”