Page 29 of Rome
I tried to turn my head to look at her, but the sun hitting my eyes made me wince and slam them shut again. Fuck! Oh yeah, that was what I was trying to figure out. Why was there goddamned sunlight coming in our bedroom window? I tried to concentrate in an effort to solve that mystery but gave up as the pounding in my skull increased to epic proportions. I kept my eyes closed, hoping that the room would stop spinning and my brain would quit trying to leak out of my ears. I felt her shift in the bed again, and tried not to puke as the movement jostled me a little.
I tried to remember how much I’d had to drink last night, but things were a little hazy. I drifted back off to sleep still trying to piece together my night.
I woke up a little bit later, needing to take a piss in the worst way. I managed to open my eyes and focused just enough to see that I was in my room at the clubhouse instead of our bedroom at home, which explained the goddamned sunlight coming through the window. I slid out of the bed with my eyes half-closed, careful not to move my head too much or to disturb Abby, then almost tripped on my clothes that were scattered on the floor. Spying black leather under the denim, I carefully leaned down to pick up my cut. Damn, I must have been absolutely wasted if I just dropped my cut on the floor like that. I always treated that with the utmost respect. I carefully draped it over the chair in the corner, then made my way into the adjoining bathroom.
After taking care of business, I opened the medicine cabinet, grateful as hell to find a bottle of Tylenol in there. I took three, hoping that they would take effect quickly and quiet the fucking marching band that had set up practice in my head. I turned on the shower and reached for a towel and washcloth from the cabinet under the sink.
As I waited for the water to heat up, I looked in the mirror, wincing at how ragged I looked. I saw a purplish spot right above my collarbone and leaned forward to peer into the mirror for a better look. I realized it was a hickey on my neck and smiled. I was going to give Abby hell for that one. She always complained when I left a mark on her, not realizing that I did that shit on purpose. I wanted the whole goddamned world to know that she was mine. The marks she left on me were usually scratches on my back, easily hidden.
I couldn’t remember the last time she’d given me a hickey.Maybe that meant she wasn’t too pissed off that I’d been drinking so much,I thought hopefully, as I stepped under the hot spray of the shower. I groaned – a mixture of pleasure and pain – as the water hit me, and I hoped it would help get rid of my hangover quickly. As I grabbed the bottle of shampoo from the built-in ledge in the shower stall, it occurred to me to wonder why Abby had ended up at the clubhouse last night.
She was supposed to be busy with her cousin’s shower, and with her bitchy Aunt Charlotte and spineless Uncle Ron. I suddenly remembered sending her a text late last night, telling her I wished she could meet me here. That made sense, and then I felt guilty as hell when I thought about how disappointed she must have been to find me drinking like a damned fish once she got here.
I lathered up my hair and my beard, then ducked under the shower head to rinse the shampoo out. I picked up the body wash and squirted a big glob onto the washcloth. As I swiped the cloth over my chest and down over the ridges of my abs, I had a vague recollection of Abby’s hands running over me, inching toward my belt buckle. I continued washing my body as hazy images started coming into focus in my mind.
I’d been stumbling up the stairs, trying to get to my room. Abby had tried to help me. I had tripped on the top step, and she’d slipped her arm around my waist. I’d flung my arm around her shoulders to steady myself as she’d helped me down the hall.
“Whadda ya doin’ here, baby girl?”I’d slurred. She’d giggled as we both bumped into the wall, and I’d never gotten an answer.
I twisted around under the warm spray of water to rinse myself off, watching the soap suds swirl along the bottom of the shower before running down the drain as bits and pieces of last night filtered into my consciousness. I pictured myself pushing Abby up against the wall outside my room and kissing her and remembered her telling me I was hot.
“You are so hot, Romeo,” she’d whispered in my ear, and I paused for a second as I wondered why she’d called me by my full road name. Abby never called me that. I’d been way too drunk to notice it last night, but it struck me as pretty fuckin’ strange now.
I stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel, swiping it over my wet hair. My memory was pretty hazy after that, but I did remember asking her to suck me off. I froze, my hands stilling on my head as I realized I’d begged my wife – my pregnant wife – to get on her knees for me in the middle of a goddamned hallway in the clubhouse where anyone could have seen her. Oh, shit, I’m surprised she didn’t bite my dick off.What the hell had I been thinking?Clearly, I hadn’t been, and that was the damned problem. I hadn’t been thinking since I’d ordered that first fucking beer.
That probably explained why she’d been off her game. Abby was a champ at sucking my cock and she could deepthroat me, taking every last inch. I normally had to stop her after just a few minutes or else I’d shoot my load down her throat. She knew just how to touch me, how much pressure to use, how to move her tongue along my length. I’d taught her exactly how I liked it when I had claimed her years ago, and my girl had been a quick learner. That woman was the absolute best at giving me head, but last night, she hadn’t seemed into it like she usually was, and it had taken me much longer to get off than it normally did.
I had a sudden vision of me asking her why she wasn’t sucking me the way she knew I liked, and then remembered that she’d gotten a little pissed at that. Fuck me sideways. First, I’d gotten completely shit-faced, then I’d treated the love of my life like she was no better than a club bunny. To top it all off, I’d compounded my stupidity by insulting her blowjob skills. Shit, I had a lot of fucking groveling to do to my sweet wife.
I hurriedly dried off the rest of my body, then wrapped the towel around my waist. I felt a little more human after the shower and hoped that I had enough working brain cells left to get me through the argument that I knew I was about to have. I quietly opened the bathroom door, not wanting to wake Abby if she was still sleeping. With any luck, I could get dressed and slip down to the kitchen to grab a cup or three of coffee to kickstart my brain before I had to face her justifiable anger and disappointment.
I tiptoed toward the closet to grab some spare clothes that I kept at the clubhouse, then glanced at the bed and froze, a huge ball of dread instantly slamming into the pit of my stomach. What the fuck? What the actual hell was going on here? Who the fuck was…oh, shit,no, no, no, no.
Please God, tell me I’m wrong. I frantically thought back to last night in the hallway.Abby helped me when I stumbled. Abby groped me. Abby gave me a lackluster blowjob. Abby called me “Romeo”.My mind zeroed in on that last thought, and the blood turned to ice in my veins.
Fuck!Abby never, ever calls me Romeo...she hasn’t in years. Hell, she rarely even refers to me as “Rome”even when talking to anyone else. I’m always Caleb to her. Always.
I called up the hazy picture in my mind of the woman with long brown hair on her knees in front of me last night with my dick in her mouth...the woman who was most definitely NOT my beautiful wife.
I stared in horror at the woman still sleeping – or passed out? – in the bed, and the bile rising in my throat had nothing to do with the booze I’d consumed last night. I felt my knees start to buckle, then whirled around toward the bathroom, and lunged over to the toilet. I barely got the lid lifted before I fell to the floor and violently threw up into the toilet bowl.
Oh God, no.Please tell me I didn’t do that. I couldn’t have fucking done that. No matter how drunk I was, I would never betray Abby like that.
I slowly rose to stand shakily at the sink, holding on to the counter with one hand because I wasn’t sure my legs were capable of keeping me upright otherwise. My hands shook as I brushed my teeth, my movements slow and deliberate as I tried to calm my breathing and my racing heart. My methodical actions were in direct contrast to the way my mind was whirling, and my thoughts were scattered as I tried desperately to remember something, anything, that would make this nightmare make sense.What the fuck had I done?
I wiped my mouth on the towel, then wrapped it around my waist, knotting it securely as I tried to convince myself that I was wrong, that itwasAbby in the bed, that Ihadn’tfucked someone else last night.
I heard pounding on the door, and my brother yelling that it was time for Church. The noise obviously woke the woman. I heard her shouting “Shut the fuck up!” My heart bottomed out of my stomach as I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it wasn’t Abby’s voice. I ran out of the bathroom as Jag pounded on the door again, ignoring the woman in the bed as I yanked open the door. I slipped out into the hallway and slammed the door behind me, as Jagger stood frozen with his hand still raised to knock again. He slowly lowered his arm, assessing the situation as he glanced from the closed door to the sight of me with wet hair, wearing nothing but a towel. His eyes widened in shock as they zeroed in on my neck, then narrowed accusingly as the woman yelled through the door for me.
“Romeo, where are you going?”
“That’s not Abby,” he stated baldly, the disbelief clear in his tone. I slowly shook my head, dropping my gaze from the accusation blazing in his.
“What the fuck did you do, man?” He hissed at me between gritted teeth. “You’re fuckin’ around on Abby?” Not able to face my twin, I closed my eyes for a moment, which is why I didn’t see his fist flying at me. Pain exploded along my jaw as his fist connected, and the back of my head bounced off the wall behind me.
“I can’t fuckin’ believe you. What the fuck’s wrong with you, man?” He roared at me, shoving me back against the wall again as his voice echoed along the hallway. He raised his arm to swing at me again, stopping as Molly opened the door and rushed out of their room, which was right next door to mine.
“Cole!” Molly screeched his name in horror, and he immediately dropped his fist and turned to her. “What on earth are you doing?” Her confusion was obvious in her voice as her eyes jumped back and forth between the two of us. I braced myself as I heard the sound of several pairs of boots pounding up the stairs.
