Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)(52)
“Ahh, f*ck off, Shel. I’ve had enough of dealing with *s for one day!” Looking up into her eyes, I could see she knew I was referring to our earlier showdown outside the gym.
“Are you seriously with her?” The surprise on her face was comical. She knew I liked Molly; she’d made that clear, maybe even expected me to f*ck her, but she obviously never thought that anything had come of it, that she’d become my girl.
Smiling at her shell-shocked face, I leaned down and took Molly’s mouth with my own—friggin’ went for it, roughly, possessively—showing Shelly and anyone else who was still rubbernecking that she was mine.
Breaking away, I answered, “Yep, I seriously am.”
“You know he won’t stay with you, don’t you, darlin’?” Shelly directed at Mol.
“And why’s that?”
“Because Momma and Daddy Prince won’t accept a money-grabbin’ whore with their son, and they can be real persuasive. They want me and they’ll get me, you can count on that.” My heart fell at the mention of my folks, it was the one gray area I had with Mol. The one part of my life I’d kept private from her.
“Funny, a money-grabbing whore—that’s exactly what Rome said about you.” I almost pissed myself in laughter, but when Shelly lunged forward, fury on her face, screaming, “You’re nothing! A pure piece of—”
I had to interrupt.
“Shut your evil mouth, and get the f*ck on before I do something I regret.”
Shelly wisely stepped back from Mol, but when she looked at me, the blood in my veins turned to ice. “I’ll give it a month and then we’ll see what your folks do. You’ll be back in my arms in no time. Your momma’s gonna flip!”
In that moment, I knew my time was up. Shelly would tell my folks about me officially being with Mol, and I, quite honestly, didn’t know what the hell they would do. Shelly seemed convinced of her plan, though, and that smartass gleam in her eyes caused me to bite out, “I’d never touch you again and wouldn’t be with you if you were the last person on Earth. You’re a bitter, vindictive bitch. As for my folks, I’m quickly learning to not give a shit what they say anymore. I want Mol and she wants me. End of discussion. Nothing you or my folks do will make a damn bit of difference to change that. Now leave us the f*ck alone.”
I registered the gossiping around us, so I shouted, “That applies to everyone—leave us the f*ck alone or deal with me! The next person who interferes or even breathes wrong in our direction, I won’t be so f*ckin’ lenient with!”
Shelly quickly bailed, and the onlookers turned away. But Mol, Mol was freaking out. She’d gone all quiet, closed in on herself. “Don’t listen to her, okay? What she said, they’re just words. Don’t mistake them for truth.”
Without answering me, Mol got up and walked away to sit on her own. She’d gone from complete anonymity to being the subject of the campus rumor mill in a matter of minutes and was obviously not handling it well. The reality of being with me was smacking her right in the face, full force.
I left her on her own for as long as I could manage, then crouched before her, stating, “You’ve gone all quiet on me, Shakespeare. I don’t like it.”
“I’m good, baby. Don’t worry.” She tried to assure me, but I could see through her bullshit. I decided to keep going with the exposure—like a Band-Aid, ripping it off quick, showing as many people as possible that we were together. Then hopefully things would settle down.
We made plans to go out with our friends after this weekend’s game, and Molly seemed slightly less tense as I led her to class, her hand in mine. I just prayed that from this point on, our lives would be less… dramatic.
17
“Molly…” Kiss. “Baby…” Kiss. “Shakespeare…” Kiss.
I moved down the bed, pressing soft kisses along Molly’s neck, her collarbone, and back up to her pouting mouth.
Groaning, she lifted her hand and pushed me away, bringing the covers back over her body—she wasn’t good with early mornings. Cracking open an eye, Mol spotted me, still hovering above her, and buried her head in the pillow.
I couldn’t help but laugh, and I ripped down the quilt. “Baby, I’m going. I got practice until this afternoon.”
Rolling her head and sighing in defeat, she looked at me, asking, “You’ll be gone all day?” as she wiped the sleep from her eyes.
“Yeah, I’ll call you later, okay?”
Grinning, she hooked her arm around my neck, bringing me to her mouth. A hand landed on a loop on the waistband of my jeans, and she pulled me on top of her, wrapping her legs around my waist. Using my arms to brace myself above her, I met her mouth hungrily before laughing again against her lips.
“Mmm… I want you,” she murmured, gripping onto me like a damn spider monkey.
“I need to go, baby. I gotta get to practice.”
“No, you need to stay with me.” I reached up to my neck, breaking her grip. She finally opened both eyes and pouted. “Pretty please?” she said in her damn cute accent.
Pinning her arms above her head, I leaned in and nipped at her bottom lip. “If you keep begging me, I will f*ck you, Mol, okay? I’ll tie you to the damn bed and f*ck you… hard. I’m trying to be a gentleman and wait until you’re ready, but you’re making it damn difficult.” Her breath caught, and she arched up to lick the bottom of my throat, causing me to growl in response.