15. Hayden
15
HAYDEN
P ounding.
“Shut up.” My voice muffled by the pillow my face pressed into.
Pounding.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
I rolled toward his voice. My head felt heavy, filled with concrete and cotton.
“What is that noise?”
“I don’t know, but you’re the big, brute Marine. Go kill it, whatever it is.”
I sat up. My head swam in one direction, the room spinning in the other. I fell back onto the bed with a moan.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“Please go kill whoever is making all that racket. I’ll pay you.”
“I would if I could, but I have a sneaking suspicion the racket maker is our heads.”
Declan groaned, “That doesn’t make any sense.”
He sat up and, like me, flopped back into bed. “Oh, fuck. Now, it does.”
“Told you.”
“Can you just kill me, then?”
“I could, but then you couldn’t kill me.”
“We could shoot each other.”
“Guns are loud, and mine’s back at base.”
“Shut up with the fucking logic.”
“I need water. A troll took a dump in my mouth.”
“Fucking nasty. Now, I need to vomit.”
“Do you think that would make us feel better?”
“I don’t know. At this moment, I’m willing to try anything.”
“Same.”
We lay next to one another, grumbling, trying to get the other to stop the pain and pounding or tell them they were breathing too loud.I dozed off at one point only to pop back awake, or maybe aware would be a better word. I didn’t fucking know. Words were too hard at the moment.
“Shut the curtains,” Declan groaned.
“Yeah, that requires moving, and I’m not sure the building isn’t bobbing in the ocean.”
“Oh, fuck. Don’t mention bobbing.”
“You own this fancy fucking place. You mean to tell me there’s not a button?”
“I don’t own it. The hotel owns it.”
“Semantics. The security guys wanna suck your dick. You might as well own the place.”
“They have.”
Jealousy rage-punched me in the face, my throbbing head tried to implode and explode simultaneously.
“Never again. You’re mine, remember.”
“Yeah, yeah, big guy. I remember. Been there, done that. Seconds aren’t on the menu.”
“That could be said about me, too.”
“You can’t say that about your husband…”
He shot up out of the bed like he’d pulled an ejector. One minute, he was lying flat on his back, and the next, he was standing on his feet at the foot of the bed.
“Holy fuck!” he screamed, his hands in front of his face.
“Stop screaming. My head hurts.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck.”
I pulled a pillow over my face to drown out whatever he was freaking out about.
The bed dipped and weaved like a buoy during a hurricane. “Fuck, Declan. Stop. I’m going to puke.”
“Gimme your hand.”
“What are you going on about?”
“Goddammit. Gimme your fucking hand.”
I held my hand up to him, and he smacked it away.
“No, dammit. The other fucking hand.”
Worried I’d get it wrong, I held them both up.
“Holy fucking shit.”
He dropped down next to me and tumbled off the edge of the bed. I rolled toward him. “You okay?”
“No. I’m not fucking okay. We’re not fucking okay.”
“What’s wrong?”
He scrambled back onto the bed, snatching up my hand and holding it up in front of my face with his. “ This . This is what’s wrong.”
My eyes widened as I took in the matching gold bands. My stomach rolled. I surged from the bed, tripping on the mad dash for the bathroom, my shoulder smacking the door frame.
“I’m going to be sick.”
I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet, not a moment too soon. Pain shot through my knees, but I was too busy losing the contents of my stomach. Not that there was anything other than bile and liquor to lose. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. Fuck. I didn’t even know what fucking time it was.
My head fell to rest on my forearm, and the sun, glinting off the golden circle on my left hand, caught my attention. My head went back over the night before.
Arriving in Vegas?
Check.
Seeing the billionaire hotel room?
Check.
Riding in the limo to the club?
Check.
Fucking Declan against the bar?
Check.
That had been hot.
Especially being inside him raw.
I flushed the toilet, climbed to my feet, and brushed my teeth. Going back over all the things I already had. Being inside him bare kept getting stuck in my head.
Walking back into the bedroom, I said, “We fucked raw.”
“That’s what’s stuck in that brain of yours? Your dick fucking my ass raw when we’re wearing matchy matchy wedding rings?”
“It’s a joke,” I said. “The guys probably pranked us.”
“Do you remember leaving the club? Coming back here?”
“No, but we got drunk. Real drunk.”
He held his hand up and shook it at me. “And married. Like real married.”
“I’m telling you. It’s a joke. The guys are always pranking each other.”
“This is not fucking funny.”
He flopped on the end of the bed. No. It wasn’t fucking funny. I sat down on the bed beside him, threading my fingers through his.
Trying to reassure him, I offered, “Wanna fuck with them?”
“What if it’s not a prank?”
“Declan, it has to be a prank. We wouldn’t have gotten married. We were plastered. No one would have married us like that.”
He didn’t look convinced, and I didn’t know how to convince him. I kissed his temple as I pulled him into my arms. We sat that way for a while, neither saying much. Our attention focused on his lap, where our entwined hands lay. My darker complexion against his lighter one and two identical yellow-gold wedding bands shone like spotlights on a Broadway stage.
His face went ash gray, and he jumped from my arms, racing to the bathroom. I waited outside the door until I heard the toilet flush, then stepped inside. He stood hunched over the vanity, his hands braced on either side of the sink. His gaze locked on his left hand.
I flipped on the shower, adjusting the temperature before moving to stand behind him.
“Let’s shower, get some water, pain meds, and food, then figure out which of my friends needs to be castrated.”
He nodded, then muttered, “I know how to do that. I grew up on a ranch. I’ll just send one of the hotel staff out to the farm supply store.”
My laughter turned to a groan as pain shot through my head like a .50 caliber round. He turned, kissed my forehead, and started pulling off my grungy, sleep and alcohol-infused clothing. As soon as he pulled my shirt over my head, I returned the favor and stripped him naked.
We stepped into the shower. That word didn’t do this place justice. It was big enough for two squadrons of Marines to shower in without touching each other. There were showerheads sticking out of the marble floors, walls, and ceiling at every possible angle. And the ledge I could imagine taking him on had a glass wall behind it that looked out over the Vegas skyline.
Declan followed me into the shower… room since there was no way this thing should be called a stall. He stood on the other side under his own set of showerheads with his eyes closed. The long, lean musculature of his neck arched back. Water rained down over him.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you naked that I’ve not wanted to throw you down and fuck you stupid,” I said.
He lifted his head, and one eye popped open. “If you even think about trying that shit right now, I’ll tie your cock in a knot.”
“Damn, vato. There’s no need to choose violence. I don’t think I’m sober enough for my dick to join the party.”
“At least we didn’t consummate the marriage,” he retorted.
“Is that even a thing still?”
“How the fuck should I know? I didn’t even do repeats until your huge cock and sexy as fuck face barged into my life.”
“Well, I’ve put a ring on it before, but not this kinda ring.”