Sweet Rome (Sweet Home 1.5)

Setting down her book, she looked at me speculatively. “You want to tell me how you got in here, in a locked room?”

“I have a secret admirer in the librarian. She opened it for me after a little sweet talk.” And a feel of my ass, but I didn’t feel entirely comfortable sharing that piece of information.

“Ms. Rose? She’s like ninety!” Mol said, choking on a laugh.

“Cougar on the prowl, more like,” I relayed with a grimace and wide eyes.

Molly lost her humor and studied me. “Mm-hmm. And why, Romeo, do you want to help me write notes again?”

My stomach dropped. I’d never even contemplated that she might not have wanted me interrupting her studies again. Shit! My arms crossed and I grumbled, “You don’t want me here? I’ll go if I’m getting in your way. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted.”

Her features softened and she placed her warm hands on my rough cheeks, her thumb dusting over my bruised cheek and lip. “Hey, I didn’t say that. I’m just taken aback by the fact that you want to be here with me. It’s… nice to be with you, in any capacity.”

Relief coursed through my tense muscles and I moved my head to press a kiss to her palm. “I like being around you too, Mol. I feel good when I am. Plus, I owe you for what you did for me yesterday.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she whispered shaking her head profusely.

Feeling completely calm and even happy, I stroked down from her cheek to her shoulder. “I’m staying with you.”

“What about your classes?”

Fuck my classes. They had no pull if she wasn’t there. “I’m staying with you. I’m kind of becoming addicted.”

“Addicted?” she asked dubiously.

Inching closer, ghosting my hand along her hip, I confided, “That’s right. To you and how you make me feel.”

“Right, well… err… let’s get you to work, then,” she said, stumbling both in footing and words.

She was so f**king cute.

Hours passed and we hadn’t taken a break—I was starving. I stood, glancing down at Molly furiously scribbling away on her notepad, her hair coming loose from her bun, mumbling to herself about Paley and his watch. She wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

Slipping out of the office, I headed to the student coffee shop, stocking up on cream cheese bagels and cappuccinos. After paying for the snacks, I caught that basketball f**ker Michaels glaring at me from his table across the room. He was clearly back together with the chick who banged me behind his back. Classy gal. What a f**king pu**y he was for taking her skanky ass back.

I walked past, trying to ignore him, but he had other plans. “You lost?”

I stopped and turned to face him. “What?” I asked tiredly.

“I said are you lost?” he said slowly, like I was dumb, laughing to his girlfriend, who kept her head firmly down. Slapping the table, he bit out, “Shit, no wonder you’re spending time in the library. You’re still trying to figure out the end of the alphabet, aren’t you?”

Yeah, I f**ked his girl. I get it, but I didn’t even know who she was until he started on me after practice two days later. I may not be big on morals, but I wouldn’t have knowingly touched someone else’s girl. Give me some f**king credit. It was a party, I was drunk off my ass, and she’d led me to bed. It’d been that brief, but Michaels still couldn’t let it go.

People in the cafe stopped their chatting, listening in.

“Michaels, I’ll warn you once. Shut the f**k up. I’m in no mood for your shit today,” I warned. I just wanted to get back to Molly. Fighting with this asswipe was the last thing on my mind.

I watched as a slow smile spread across his face. Apparently he wasn’t feeling the same. “You’re right. I’ll let you get back to the retard section on the first floor.”

If the food in my hands hadn’t been for Molly upstairs, working herself toward the first stages of malnutrition, I’d have thrown the whole lot at his f**king head and kicked out his front teeth. But I simply smiled and retorted, “Will do, Michaels, and I’ll let you get back to your copy of The Kama Sutra.” I crossed the fingers on my right hand and held them up, smiling sarcastically. “Not long now before you can make your girl come without a dildo and she has to stop shopping around campus for substitutes.” With that, I left Michaels raging on his seat and ordering his girl to follow him home, the listening students snickering at our show.

Five minutes later and back upstairs, I sighed as I saw Molly was still writing furiously and looking beyond exhausted, a huge stack of notes piled up on her right. My entrance finally broke her from her philosophy zone and she looked up at me in shock.

“We need a break,” I told her sternly.

“How long have we been in here?” she asked with a yawn, stretching her cramped muscles and rubbing at her eyes under her black frames.

“About six hours,” I answered in a reprimanding tone as I handed her a bagel.

“Oh. Crap.”

“Yep, crap,” I answered with a laugh, her exaggerated accent amusing me to no end. I’d never known a Brit before Molly, and sometimes the things she came out with and the way she pronounced shit was f**king hilarious.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she sat on her seat, and more importantly, I couldn’t take my eyes off Molly’s tongue as it ran along both lips as she stared at her food. I tightened my hand on my coffee death grip, imagining that mouth licking around the tip of my cock. And when she took a sip of her cappuccino, moaning out loud in satisfaction, the bastard lid popped off, the hot liquid scalding on my chest.