“You really need to work out your shit when it comes to her. She’s eating you up inside because she means something to you. Admit it, or one day you’re going to wake up and you won’t even recognize the man in the mirror.”
Hammer bristled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is that your professional diagnosis?”
“You should have fucked the princess out of your system. Been done with her already.”
“Never going to happen.”
Hammer stormed away and headed to the liquor room. He grabbed a bottle of Patrón and stalked back to his office, slamming the door behind him. He ripped off his suit coat and tie, tossing them on the bed as he walked to the bathroom. As he rinsed the blood from his knuckles, he raised his head, catching his own reflection in the mirror above the sink. Blood oozed from a cut above his brow, but what startled him most were the haunted eyes staring back.
He splashed cold water on his face, then watched crimson swirl down the drain.
Hammer turned off the faucet. As he reached for a towel, the sounds of sex filtered through the walls. It was Raine’s tender moan of passion. Liam’s familiar Irish lilt coaxed, melding with hers. Frozen like a statue, he stood listening to the sounds of their lovemaking. It gnawed at his gut.
Swallowing down the scream boiling in his chest, Hammer marched from the bathroom. Uncapping the tequila, he tipped the bottle back, guzzling it like water. Even so, the moans resounded in his head, burning their way into his brain. Beck was right—there wasn’t a bottle deep enough for him to escape this pain.
Sitting at the foot of his bed, he thought he’d put enough distance between himself and the sounds of Liam and Raine’s ardor, but her sultry cries still bled through the walls. He covered his ears—anything to drown out the reality of another man giving Raine all the pleasures he ached to grant her himself.
All four walls seemed to close in around him and sweat sprinkled his forehead. He gulped more alcohol, then hung his head. The entire day had been a fucking Greek tragedy. All because he’d taken Marlie to bed. Didn’t Raine get that he would—and had—fucked almost every other woman in the club to keep himself from taking her to bed and ruining her life? Of course not. He’d never been honest with her. Hell, it was hard to be honest with himself. But right now, the real sounds of Raine screaming Liam’s name as she shattered for the backstabbing prick was more reality than he could take.
Sweat dripped from his face and down his back. Hammer stood and stripped off his shirt and threw it to the floor. He walked from the bedroom to his adjoining office, praying the walls would provide enough of a buffer to find some goddamn silence.
He sat at his desk and wrapped his thick fingers around his coffee mug, then peered inside. Clean as a whistle. Through all the tears, bullshit, and drama, Raine had still made sure his mug was clean.
With a terrible roar, he heaved the ceramic cup across the room, and as the sound of splintering shards hit the floor, he tipped back the bottle of Patrón and guzzled. When he came up for air, he flopped down on his buttery-soft leather couch and rested the bottle on his knee. Studying the clear liquid sloshing inside, he hoped it would at least dull the brutal pain slicing through him…but he wasn’t betting on it. Fuck Beck for being right.
Beside Raine, Liam snored softly in her ear. Spooned into his chest, his arm curled around her waist, his warmth surrounded her, protected her. She closed her eyes. He made letting go so easy. That tender voice… The caress of his eyes… He might still be something of a stranger—what did she know about his past, his goals, his life—but with him, she found it unsettlingly comfortable to let her guard down and believe him. Trust him. It was exhilarating…and scary as hell.
She snuggled up to him, astounded by the turn their relationship had taken so quickly. But tonight, he’d shown that he would be there for her, just as he’d promised. That he would care for and protect her. He’d broken his long-standing friendship with Hammer to defend her when he barely knew her.
Why?
Raine didn’t know, and the question unsettled her. Liam had claimed her tonight, once publicly and gently, showing everyone his tender dominance. Then he’d brought her to his bedroom and...what? More than fucked her—and more than once. His every touch and look had been rife with some meaning.
Raine had never really had a man make love to her, but she imagined it would feel a lot like what Liam had done. Thorough. Gentle. Consuming. If he’d wanted to reach deep into her, he had succeeded. He’d ripped through her protective walls and totally exposed her soul. In the aftermath, she was finding it hard to fortify herself with those barriers again. Besides being sexy and caring, Liam had been there for her in a way very few ever had.