Sweet Rome
Page 29
“Shit!” I shouted, launching to my feet, pulling the boiling, wet material off my gray shirt.
“You okay?” Molly asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Just… don’t make those kind of noises around me, Mol,” I instructed tightly, moving to adjust my now rock-hard c**k in my jeans. Molly’s breathing grew labored at my words and her br**sts pushed against her dress. I wanted her so damn much, but she wasn’t like the other girls. She wasn’t just a f**k, didn’t give her pu**y to anyone wearing a Tide jersey. And more shockingly, I was quickly realizing that I wanted her for more than just one night.
Yeah. Imagine that. My feelings for her were spiraling out of control, confusing the absolute crap out of me.
Taking a seat, we both stared at each other in silence, the tension pulsing once more, until I cracked my knuckles and stretched out my arms, saying, “You must be nearly done now. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard at anything. I have no doubts you’ll make one hell of a professor.”
Losing the flush to her heated cheeks, she shrugged. “I love studying. It keeps me occupied.”
“From what?”
“From thinking about other things.”
“Like?” The desolation that appeared on her face at that question cut me to the core.
“Bad things… upsetting things… things from my past.”
I felt that pain, knew that pain, so I reached out and took her hand that was resting on the table in support, throwing all caution to the wind and confessing, “So studying does for you what you do for me?”
Her hand shook slightly in mine, and she looked anywhere but at me. I pulled on her hand, jerking her closer. “It’s true. You’re doing something to me, Mol.”
“I… What? You…?” she mumbled, moodily pulling back her hand when I laughed and then launched a piece of her bagel, I assumed, at my head, but instead it hit my chest. She may be a genius, but she had shit aim.
My heart nearly exploded with happiness as I shoved it in my mouth and she couldn’t contain her laughter. It seemed we were good at doing that for each other, lightening our moods after getting lost in the memory of our dark times.
“So how are you feeling today?” she asked, genuine concern in her tone. Someone was genuinely concerned for me. It felt… nice.
“Better,” I replied, smiling. “This pretty gal helped me get through some personal shit.”
Her head bowed and she looked up playfully through her long black lashes, pretending to search under the table and around the room. “What gal? What does she look like?”
Scrunching up my face in mock concentration, I answered, “Brunette, hot accent, f**king sexy as hell librarian-with-glasses thing going on.”
Molly shook her head in dismissal. “Right. But seriously, are you okay?”
Time to cut the shit. She deserved to know, and more importantly, I finally wanted to open up to someone, even if it was just a small glimpse at who I was. “Getting there. One day at a time,” I confided quietly.
Nodding proudly, Molly went back to her notes, understanding I couldn’t be pushed too far. I loved that about her. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she sipped on her coffee. She was pretty—there was no question about that—but she didn’t try hard to make herself more beautiful, didn’t coat herself in a ton of makeup or tight clothing. But sitting before me right now, she looked like a supermodel, the most stunning girl I ever saw. Her easy acceptance of my damn moody ways made her the most beautiful girl in the world to me.
At that moment, my decision was made. I wanted her, was consumed by need for her, and decided to screw the consequences.
I was making my move.
She placed the cup back on the desk; a small drop of foam rested on her lip. Rising from my seat, I stalked around the table, seeing her eyes widen with nerves as I approached. I leaned down, trapping her on the chair, my attention firmly fixed on my target.
“Romeo, what—” she whispered, but I dived in, flicking out my tongue and licking the foam off her soft lip.
“You had foam on your lip,” I said as casually as I could manage, pulling back from her.
“Oh, I—” Raw disappointment shadowed her golden eyes. It was all the convincing I needed. Gripping her cheeks in both of my hands, I moved in, crashing our lips together and grasping her thick hair in my fists, on the verge of losing control as she groaned with pure need against my busy mouth.
I had to stop before things went too far. As much as I wanted to sink deep into Molly, I wasn’t going to do it in the library for f**k’s sake. I wanted more when it came to her, so I reluctantly pulled back.
“And then?” she asked breathlessly as she nuzzled against my hand.
Touching my forehead against hers, I confessed, “Well, then, I just wanted to kiss you.” Her lips twitched and a shy smile lit up her face.
Spurred on by her affections, I dropped to my knees, running my hands up her bare thighs, and asked, “Come to my game this weekend.”
“I have to study.”
My heart plummeted to my stomach. “It’s just for a few hours, Mol.”
She began playing with her hands and shaking her head. “I know, but I get paid to assist the professor and I pride myself on getting everything done on time. I need my paycheck to survive, Rome. Living in the sorority house is expensive. I’ll be here on Saturday when the game is on.”
Her dismissive response took me aback, and I panicked that I’d got it all wrong. Why wouldn’t she come to my game? She could study before or after. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe she wasn’t feeling what I was feeling, and that thought just about broke me.
“You okay?” Molly asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Just… don’t make those kind of noises around me, Mol,” I instructed tightly, moving to adjust my now rock-hard c**k in my jeans. Molly’s breathing grew labored at my words and her br**sts pushed against her dress. I wanted her so damn much, but she wasn’t like the other girls. She wasn’t just a f**k, didn’t give her pu**y to anyone wearing a Tide jersey. And more shockingly, I was quickly realizing that I wanted her for more than just one night.
Yeah. Imagine that. My feelings for her were spiraling out of control, confusing the absolute crap out of me.
Taking a seat, we both stared at each other in silence, the tension pulsing once more, until I cracked my knuckles and stretched out my arms, saying, “You must be nearly done now. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard at anything. I have no doubts you’ll make one hell of a professor.”
Losing the flush to her heated cheeks, she shrugged. “I love studying. It keeps me occupied.”
“From what?”
“From thinking about other things.”
“Like?” The desolation that appeared on her face at that question cut me to the core.
“Bad things… upsetting things… things from my past.”
I felt that pain, knew that pain, so I reached out and took her hand that was resting on the table in support, throwing all caution to the wind and confessing, “So studying does for you what you do for me?”
Her hand shook slightly in mine, and she looked anywhere but at me. I pulled on her hand, jerking her closer. “It’s true. You’re doing something to me, Mol.”
“I… What? You…?” she mumbled, moodily pulling back her hand when I laughed and then launched a piece of her bagel, I assumed, at my head, but instead it hit my chest. She may be a genius, but she had shit aim.
My heart nearly exploded with happiness as I shoved it in my mouth and she couldn’t contain her laughter. It seemed we were good at doing that for each other, lightening our moods after getting lost in the memory of our dark times.
“So how are you feeling today?” she asked, genuine concern in her tone. Someone was genuinely concerned for me. It felt… nice.
“Better,” I replied, smiling. “This pretty gal helped me get through some personal shit.”
Her head bowed and she looked up playfully through her long black lashes, pretending to search under the table and around the room. “What gal? What does she look like?”
Scrunching up my face in mock concentration, I answered, “Brunette, hot accent, f**king sexy as hell librarian-with-glasses thing going on.”
Molly shook her head in dismissal. “Right. But seriously, are you okay?”
Time to cut the shit. She deserved to know, and more importantly, I finally wanted to open up to someone, even if it was just a small glimpse at who I was. “Getting there. One day at a time,” I confided quietly.
Nodding proudly, Molly went back to her notes, understanding I couldn’t be pushed too far. I loved that about her. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she sipped on her coffee. She was pretty—there was no question about that—but she didn’t try hard to make herself more beautiful, didn’t coat herself in a ton of makeup or tight clothing. But sitting before me right now, she looked like a supermodel, the most stunning girl I ever saw. Her easy acceptance of my damn moody ways made her the most beautiful girl in the world to me.
At that moment, my decision was made. I wanted her, was consumed by need for her, and decided to screw the consequences.
I was making my move.
She placed the cup back on the desk; a small drop of foam rested on her lip. Rising from my seat, I stalked around the table, seeing her eyes widen with nerves as I approached. I leaned down, trapping her on the chair, my attention firmly fixed on my target.
“Romeo, what—” she whispered, but I dived in, flicking out my tongue and licking the foam off her soft lip.
“You had foam on your lip,” I said as casually as I could manage, pulling back from her.
“Oh, I—” Raw disappointment shadowed her golden eyes. It was all the convincing I needed. Gripping her cheeks in both of my hands, I moved in, crashing our lips together and grasping her thick hair in my fists, on the verge of losing control as she groaned with pure need against my busy mouth.
I had to stop before things went too far. As much as I wanted to sink deep into Molly, I wasn’t going to do it in the library for f**k’s sake. I wanted more when it came to her, so I reluctantly pulled back.
“And then?” she asked breathlessly as she nuzzled against my hand.
Touching my forehead against hers, I confessed, “Well, then, I just wanted to kiss you.” Her lips twitched and a shy smile lit up her face.
Spurred on by her affections, I dropped to my knees, running my hands up her bare thighs, and asked, “Come to my game this weekend.”
“I have to study.”
My heart plummeted to my stomach. “It’s just for a few hours, Mol.”
She began playing with her hands and shaking her head. “I know, but I get paid to assist the professor and I pride myself on getting everything done on time. I need my paycheck to survive, Rome. Living in the sorority house is expensive. I’ll be here on Saturday when the game is on.”
Her dismissive response took me aback, and I panicked that I’d got it all wrong. Why wouldn’t she come to my game? She could study before or after. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe she wasn’t feeling what I was feeling, and that thought just about broke me.
