Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)(36)
Running to the side of the balcony, I spotted a trellis and, groaning at the damn irony, began climbing up the wall like a man possessed.
“Romeo, be careful! What the hell are you doing?” Molly hissed, watching me in horror.
“Coming to see my Juliet,” I said in jest, watching her face pale as she stumbled back in surprise, then climbing the rest of the way and jumping onto the terrace. I hit the floor with a thud, but then I looked up… and almost had a stroke.
Brown hair to her waist, thick enough to grip, and the shortest, thinnest scrap of pink material barely covering her impressive curves, the beads of her nipples visible, tempting me to just step forward and take them in my mouth. My cock instantly hardened in my jeans, and moving toward her, noting the quickened rise and fall of her braless tits, I reached out, stroking her soft dark hair—even the thin wrap of sports tape in the center of her frames unable to distract me from how f*cking stunning she was right here before me.
In an instinctive move, her hand met mine, and, taking advantage of the lust widening in her eyes, I moved in, running my finger down her neck, my restraint hanging by a thread.
“Romeo? W-what are you doing?” Molly asked, her question more of a strangled moan than anything else.
“I ain’t sure. But I don’t wanna stop,” I whispered against her neck. Vanilla. Her. Fucking perfection.
“Rome, I don’t think—” She stopped mid-sentence as she whipped around to look down at the backyard, fear on her face. Students flooded the yard, the party spilling to this side of the street. I didn’t give a shit, though. In fact, let all of the student body see us like this. So with more aggression, I slammed her body against mine and nipped along the bare skin of her neck, continuing where we left off.
“We… we need to stop,” Molly whispered into my ear, but there was no conviction in her tone, just breathy pleas spurring me on.
“No, Mol. I’ve held off for long enough. I’ve tried to take things slow, but no more. I won’t be a nothing to you anymore. I want you. I want you so f*cking bad…” I said quietly, my voice hoarse with need, my desperation increasing by the second. Reality and fantasy blurred into one, and I couldn’t get the image of us intertwined on her bed out of my mind. I almost groaned out loud at the thought that in about ten minutes, I’d have her stripped bare, could be plunging deep in her *.
Soft hands skimmed up my bare arms, feeling so damn right against my skin. “Rome. This isn’t a good idea. I can’t do this.” But she didn’t pull away; her hips and tits were still pressing into my body
“Sure you can,” I murmured, my hands slowly drifting down, hearing the hitch in her breathing as I caressed her waist.
Those damn soft hands suddenly pushed me back, snapping me to the harshness of reality. “Please… just… hold on a moment,” she said in a fluster, arms locked and braced to stop me getting any closer.
Well, that was a first, a chick stopping me from f*cking her. I hadn’t had to work at sex since I was in high school; matter of fact, I never did then either. Chicks were just always drawn to me. Not Molly, though; she was proving one tough f*cking nut to crack.
“What?” she suddenly asked, and I realized I was imitating a friggin’ statue, standing gaping at her in shock. She was still panting, trying to catch her breath.
Shuffling awkwardly, I admitted, “No one’s ever told me no before.”
Her mouth dropped like a damn cartoon character, and she emitted a single disbelieving laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly,” I answered through clenched teeth. Fuck, I felt like I was in pain, my fists clenching as my cock throbbed in my boxers.
A giggle escaped her mouth, and she blurted, “That’s… pathetic.”
Yeah… I guess it kind of was.
Dragging my teeth along my bottom lip, I moved in toward her tense body and held her by the hips. The damn sweet sound of her giggle broke through the thick wall of my aggression, and with a ghost of a smirk, I confessed, “But true.”
She shook her head, actually looking pretty damn disgusted, and tipped her chin to the sky. It dawned on me that maybe my past with chicks was putting her off.
With dread pitted in my chest, I plucked up the courage to ask, “You don’t want this? You don’t want… me?” I was so damn scared to hear her response. Actually scared for the first time in years.
“Romeo… I—”
“What?” I interrupted. I didn’t want to be pitied. I wouldn’t be made a fool of. Not by her. Not by anyone.
I watched the conflict in her eyes, but with a sag of her shoulders, she ultimately gave in, her want for me, for us, overpowering her logic. “You’re a lot to take on, you know,” she said with a defeated sigh, but her fingers wrapped in my red Tide T-shirt, subtly bringing me closer.
“I know,” I answered semi-humorously, feeling like I’d just won the friggin’ lottery.
Those hypnotizing golden-brown eyes searched mine, confusion glaring through, and she confessed, “I don’t know what you want from me. You tie me up in knots and I’m not used to it.”
You, I want only you, I thought. But out loud, I said, “Then let me show you what I want. Stop f*ckin’ fighting this.” I couldn’t deal with any more running, any more hiding, couldn’t tolerate one more day without knowing I had her as mine.