Page 16 of Dirty Rock

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People always think that it takes a hard man to fight. I didn’t believe that. Men fought because they were scared. They hurt others to stop themselves being hurt.

Then there were guys like me who weren’t afraid to take a beating. There was no fun in pain, that much was true, but somewhere in the back of our sick minds, we liked the test of it all. How much could we take before we broke? How much could we block out before we snapped and fought back?

Those tests helped me figure out what I was made of when I had no way of knowing for sure.

We made it back onto the floor of our hotel suites, and the corridor looked clear for approximately four-point-seven seconds before Julia’s head shot out from behind a door, and her face fell as she took me in.

“Great,” I groaned under my breath.

She was wearing a pair of light jeans that hugged her arse, and a mustard-colour T-shirt that made her tits seem bigger than I ever remembered them being.

That was all the analysis I could make, given the fact that I could barely see for shit.

“Good God, what in the hell happened?” she gasped, charging forward.

“I, uh, fell over.”

Finn’s hand tightened on my arm, and I practically snarled up at him to tell him to ease up on the pressure.

“You fell over?” Julia repeated.

I came to a stand in front of her, my body hunched and throat tight. All I saw staring back at me was concern. Well, thatandanger. Damn that anger. She wore it like a sparkly jewel I couldn’t look away from. Not because I admired it—more because I wondered what it was going to fucking cost me.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat and waved a weak hand behind me. “Big… rock. Caught me off guard.”

Shrugging Finn off, I shuffled as best I could, clutching the lump around my rib without freaking out. I had no idea why it was so swollen. All I knew was that it felt about as natural as having a jagged dildo planted up my arse.

I closed my eyes and started to walk past Jules, completely ignoring whatever she was saying as she asked Finn question after question, only for him to answer in that low-as-shit voice of his. I couldn’t stand an interrogation. The only things I needed were a whiskey and my bed.

I made my way to my room, fortunate enough not to bump into any of the others from the band. I thought I’d escaped the wrath of Julia Speed once I’d crossed the threshold, too. I was about to shut the door behind me until there was resistance from the other side.

“For fuck’s sake,” I sighed, stepping back as Julia stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Tonight clearly isn’t my night.”

Her brown eyes scanned my face with concern. “We need to talk about this.”

“Nope. Don’t do that, Jules.”

“Do what? Worry? Care?”

“Look at me like I’m a piece of shit.”

“I never do that.” She leaned to one side to study the bad eye that now felt like it had its own heartbeat.

I frowned, watching her cautiously as she took a full inventory of my body.

“You’re stupid,” she whispered, almost to herself. “The most stupid man-boy I’ve ever known.”

“Well… thanks.”

“Take your jacket off.”

“If you’re looking for my dick, it’s a little farther south.”

“Jacket, Rhett.”

I groaned, the exhaustion of the moment taking over. Slipping the dark denim from my arms as carefully as I could, I let it slide to the floor with a thud, never taking my eyes from Julia.

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