Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)

“I love you,” I announced, placing a kiss on her throat, and I could see the need for me building in her eyes. Pregnancy had us fucking like rabbits… something I wasn’t complaining about.

Pushing on my chest, Molly chastised, “That won’t get you out of my bad books! Look at the state of this place, of you!” But when her nostrils flared and her hand ran down my sweaty stomach, I knew she was two seconds away from letting me sink into her warmth.

My cock throbbed in my shorts, and pressing right up against my girl, I said, “I want to fuck you right now, so bad.”

“Not here. And not until you promise me that you’ll never act like this again.”

Was she fucking kidding me? I could see she was on the edge too and the damn door was shut; we were good. “I’m all riled up and need a release, the kind that only you can give me.”

Pushing on my chest again, she said, with conviction this time, “I mean it. Don’t ignore me. My child won’t grow up with a daddy who can’t control himself when things go wrong.”

That sentence was like a hammer to my heart. I would never hurt our angel.

“You get that, don’t you?” she asked, using my own words against me.

“I get it. It stops now. I won’t be anything like my daddy with our angel. I promise you that.”

Needing to get away from this place, and really needing to fuck her, I said, “We’re going to the cabin. I’m going to strip you down and you’re going to do everything I say, until neither of us can stand. You get me?”

“Ugh! Fine! I get you!”

Tilting my head, I assured, “I’m going to make sure you’re protected at the party, baby.”

“I know you will.”

Moving to the bench, I pulled her onto my lap, feeling a million times better. “It’s déjà vu,” she said, “you, cut up and bleeding and me, cleaning you up. But let’s not make this our ‘thing,’ okay?”

“Last time, I promise. I’m going to change. No more cleaning up my messes. Scout’s honour.” I held up my hands, joining the appropriate fingers together.

“You were never a scout, Romeo,” Molly chuckled.

“I joined…” I informed.

Fixing her eyes on mine, she asked, “Really, you did?”

“Mm-hmm… but I was kicked out for fighting.” Sad but true… The fucker probably deserved it back then too.

“Why am I not surprised?” she said, curling farther into my chest, her breath warm on my skin.

Our friends let themselves in a short while later, where I explained about my folks and the party, much to their dismay, and then I told Austin and Jimmy-Don about the baby. They were, unsurprisingly, shocked, but meeting eyes with Austin, I knew he was going to help me protect Molly and our angel.





27


The Prince Plantation


SEC Championship Homecoming Dinner



“My husband and I couldn’t be more proud of our son, Rome. He was always so talented growing up, and y’all love and respect him too—that only increases our admiration.”

A soothing vanilla scent drifted on the breeze as Molly leaned in, rubbing my arm, and took my tightly gripped fist off the edge of the table, placing it on her slightly rounded stomach. Squeezing my eyes, I calmed some but tensed once more when my momma continued talking from the top table, addressing the heavy crowd.

“My husband and I couldn’t make it to the game in Georgia, unfortunately, as we had prior engagements with our company here in Alabama, but we watched the SEC Division Championship on TV, seeing y’all win over the Gators and lift that trophy for everyone here back home.”

Screams and cheers went up from around the room, except for our table. Coach looked over to me, shaking his head at my momma in disgust.

“We couldn’t be more proud of our son who threw like a true professional in all four quarters, or all of the Tide for that matter. Your state and school adore y’all.”

I actually felt nauseous as she lied her way through the speech. Proud? Talented? They’d never been proud of me, but here they were, fucking showboating to the crowd, the cream of Tuscaloosa society smiling at me, congratulating me on my amazingly supportive parents.

They had no friggin’ idea.

“I love you, baby,” Molly whispered into my ear, and I turned toward her face, slackening my tense jaw and pressing my lips against hers, breaking only momentarily to say, “I love you too.”

My folks didn’t even acknowledge me much after that, too busy networking and putting on their show.

We had nothing left to say to one another anyhow.

The dinner moved on to the party side of things, and I relaxed when I managed to convince Molly to dance—keeping her close, keeping her protected.

“Rome?” The band finished playing “Sweet Home Alabama” to rapturous applause from the team and fellow guests, and, turning at the sound of my name, I saw Coach behind me.

“Oh, hey, Coach.”

Facing Molly, he said, “Miss Shakespeare, can I borrow Rome for a while?”