Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)(22)

“So did you!” She hit back, her face flushing with anger.

Could she not see what she’d done? How she’d brought me to the brink of losing it in front a class with her words…? With that f*cking name?

“Why did you bring up the other night? What I talked about was in confidence. I told you things I’ve never told another living person and you threw it back at me in a public class?” I closed in, smelling that damn vanilla scent of her… What? Her hair, her skin? God, it was driving me insane. Up this close, I noticed more about her, like how her skin was perfect, not one mark or blemish, and her eyes had a strange shade of caramel around the iris. Jesus, I was furious but wanted nothing more than to take her against the wall. Fuck her into submission. Fuck her until she learned to not cross me again.

I refocused my mind and said, “I put my trust in you and you dredge it up in your lecture for your own f*ckin’ smartass gain?”

My jaw clenched as she rolled her eyes and laughed. “Confidence, my arse! The whole college knows you use girls for sex, which, quite honestly, makes me feel sick.”

She’d just earned strike one.

“From what I saw the other night with her, you did then too, after you confided to me that you didn’t like her, after you connected so deeply with me. “

Strike two.

“Where’s the morality in that? Couldn’t resist her open legs I take it?”

Fucking strike three!

Completely losing my mind, I backed Molly against the wall and into a dark corner. We were completely hidden from view. Inching closer, I asked, “Why do you care who I f*ck? What’s it to you?” Anger was quickly being replaced by lust, the two blurring in my mind. Her heavy breathing and the goose bumps on her skin were only goading me further.

She may not have realized it, but Molly couldn’t take her gaze off my lips. “It isn’t anything to me,” she said between gritted teeth, but those hooded eyes gave me all the indication I needed. She f*cking wanted me too but couldn’t just come out and say it, could she? No, Mol was content to push every damn button I had.

I slapped my hand against the wall, edging in closer, to the point that we were almost touching. “You’re lying.”

Her firm tits pressed against my chest as she hissed, “I’m not lying. It has nothing to do with me who you f*ck, as you so eloquently put it!”

“Bullshit! I don’t f*ckin’ believe you!” I spat out as she hit my chest, and I tried once again. “I said I don’t believe you! Tell me why the f*ck you care and don’t f*ckin’ lie!” I felt her hands brush my stomach, almost causing me to moan out loud.

“Fine!” she screamed. “I care because you kissed me! You kissed me like you had no other choice, dammit! I don’t like being just another plaything when I trusted you with me. I never do that and now I remember exactly why!”

Now we were getting somewhere.

“For your information, I didn’t screw her. In fact, I told her in no uncertain terms that I was done for good. What you’d said to me made sense… about living my own life. You got through to me. You… affected me. And get this straight… you are no one’s plaything, Shakespeare. I may f*ck around, but I wouldn’t f*ck around on you.”

Those damn lips opened again, but I’d had enough of her shit so I laid my finger over her mouth, trapping her in my hold. “You’re brave, Shakespeare, speaking to me like this. I don’t… tolerate it from anyone. People around here know not to approach me. They have the sense to leave things alone.”

Her eyes narrowed and she asked, “Are you threatening me?”

My cock was iron-stiff, my tether about to snap, but this small English chick was taking me on like a gladiator.

“Not threatening, Shakespeare, commending. I’m finding you and that mouth of yours a real turn-on. But I’m more interested in teaching you how to keep it shut.”

Her body was betraying her; I caught the swallow of her throat and the squirming of her thighs. She liked the way I was being with her, and the thought that this Miss Goody Two-Shoes might actually like me like this was only driving me more insane.

“Save that kind of talk for when you screw Shelly again,” she snapped.

“I told you I didn’t f*ckin’ touch her!” I tried to say calmly, but it came out as more of a low growl.

“That’s not what she’s been saying.” Her voice was getting breathy; she was losing the hard-ass front she’d adopted.

Both calmer now, I tried to make her understand how I was feeling. “I couldn’t care less what she says. I thought you were different, Mol. Why make a dig about Shelly or football after what I’d told you I was going through?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, she began rubbing at her temples. “Look, I’m just in a crappy mood. I shouldn’t have come at you like that and I apologize for betraying your confidence. It was bad manners on my part. I was pissed off at you, have been pissed off at you for days. I don’t know how to be around you. You… confuse me.”

Talk about conflicted. I was so pissed at her for that earlier performance, but I craved her. I had no idea why, but I’d never wanted a chick like her before, every fiber of my being screaming at me to take her, possess her. As my mind swirled with these thoughts, my grip on her momentarily loosened, and she attempted to slip past me.