Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)(43)

Taking her hand, I led her down to the creek. This place was my haven, the only spot where no one bothered me. My folks owned acres of land but never set foot on most of it. I’d never shared this place with anyone before, never had the urge. I did now though. Molly needed to see this place; something within me just knew she’d love it.

“Okay, now you seriously have to tell me where we are. It’s possibly the prettiest place on Earth,” she said as we sat under the large oak beside the water.

Here goes nothing. With a deep sigh, I said, “It’s the creek at the back of my parents’ place.”

Her brows furrowed. “Your parents’ place?” I watched her throat take a huge swallow and apprehension shaded her features.

Craning her neck, she checked out every direction, every seemingly never-ending field. “They own all of this?” Her voice had weakened, and I could see that the realization of my family’s wealth was hitting home.

Praying she didn’t let this revelation change anything, I lay back, reluctantly admitting, “It’s a plantation, Mol.”

Her huge eyes were almost comical. “Plantation? Your parents own an entire plantation?”

My folks didn’t even friggin’ use it right—as a farm—they just wanted the biggest damn lot in Tuscaloosa. Total showboating.

Glancing back up at Mol, I could see her gaze was nervous as she checked out the surroundings.

Laughing slightly, I assured her. “Relax, they won’t know we’re even here. I come here all the time. It’s where I get away from it all.”

She tilted her head, staring at me with a disbelieving look.

“What?”

“This. You. A plantation. We’re from completely different worlds.” Catching the flicker of doubt in those brown eyes, I grabbed her hand, kissing it, and said, “This isn’t me, believe me. If only you knew… All this belongs to my parents, not me. I’m just the same me and you’re just you—Romeo and Molly Juliet.”

The smile tugging on those damn full lips almost had me tackling her to the floor. “Come here,” I demanded, pulling her to lie on the grass beside me. A giggle escaped her mouth as I did so. I couldn’t take my eyes off her face.

Fuck, she was amazing.

Without thinking it through, I blurted, “I can’t believe how beautiful you look with those lenses in. Your eyes are the strangest golden color… I’m having to try real hard to stop myself from touching you the way I want to.”

That damn thumb of hers went to her mouth and I growled low in my throat, my cock springing to life. We were alone; I wanted her, the need to take her how I wanted—under my terms—beginning to take hold. She’d f*cked one guy in her life and, by her own admission, didn’t like it. And my style—when it came to sex—well, it wasn’t exactly all romantic gestures and loving caresses. I was scared shitless that showing her that side of me could ruin it all.

And then eight words from her mouth made me snap. “You can touch me if you want to.”

Sucking in a breath, like I’d just took a slam in my solar plexus, I warned, “Don’t play with fire, Shakespeare. It’s too much for a pretty little English girl to cope with.”

A shy grin spread across her lips. Christ! I was holding on by a damn thin thread, and by the look of things, she knew it. “What can I say…?” she replied playfully. “I’m a risk taker.”

“Mol…” I warned again through painfully clenched teeth. Eyes hooded with lust, my girl lifted onto all fours and began crawling toward me—the geek long gone and a f*cking sex kitten taking her place.

She had one last chance to back away before I really let her have it. “Mol…” I cautioned one last time, but she didn’t stop, and when she kneeled before me, the smell of vanilla made me lose all sanity. I gripped her bare thigh, never breaking eye contact, and smoothed my hand farther up the skin, right up until my fingers ran along the line of her panties.

Molly’s warm breath panted quickly through pursed lips and, leaning down, she brushed them against my mouth. It was too soft, too little contact, but I let her set the pace. She was still pretty inexperienced and I didn’t want to come on too strong. But when her hand moved down my stomach, tucked into my jeans, and almost brushed the tip of my cock, I f*cking lost it—the time for chivalry and patience was long gone. I was going to make her come, watch her guard fall down, and enjoy every damn second.

Gripping the flesh of her thighs, I spread her across my crotch, her tits pressed right against my chest, my hand wrapped tightly around the back of her neck. My mouth smashed furiously against hers and, taking advantage of her position, I ground my hard dick right between her legs, letting my desire override anything else.

Massaging the soft flesh of her breast in my hand, I pressed farther against her mouth, then moved my hand to her *, and hearing her moan out load in desperation for my touch drove me crazy. She was more than liking what I was giving her, how I was giving it to her… doing it the way I needed it to be.

“Romeo…” She moaned in aroused frustration, those newly exposed eyes rolling as I ghosted my finger against her cotton-covered clit.

“Mol… I… I…” I wanted to tell her how I was feeling, but I was fighting against a lifelong-scarred blockage in my throat.