Sweet Home Page 9

  I rolled over and folded my arms. He dragged me back to face him, failing to hide his amusement. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” I unfolded my arms, unable to remain annoyed and took his hand in mine.

  “So, Oliver, was he your boyfriend?”

  “Yeah, I suppose. I tried to have him as a boyfriend anyway.”

  “Tried?”

  “Yeah. I… I don’t really get close to people. I tried with him, but, in the end, I just couldn’t do it. We’d been sort of dating for a few months—coffee dates, study partners, that type of thing—and I decided to just take the next step, just get it over with. He wanted it badly. I was indifferent. So I thought why not? Olly was sweet to me and I liked him well enough. The sex—not so much.”

  He recoiled in horror, dropping my hand. “What? You didn’t like sex?”

  I blushed in embarrassment, picking at the loose threads of cotton on my sheet. “It was awkward, fumbled, and not everything it was hyped up to be.”

  Romeo ran a finger down the length of my arm, watching the skin bump in its wake. “Olly, just didn’t do it right.”

  A second wave of goose bumps spread along my exposed skin. He noticed my traitorous reaction and smiled knowingly. “I imagine with you, Shakespeare, it’d be like nothin’ else. I’ve never wanted anythin’ so much in my damned life—to taste you, feel you… hear you scream my name.”

  “Romeo—” I shifted to give us both space before things spiralled too far.

  He reached out and held my arm. “I’ll stop, but I won’t hide the fact that I want it real bad, Shakespeare. Real fuckin’ bad.”

  I groaned, dramatically slamming my pillow over my head, hearing Romeo’s throaty chuckle beside me. He pulled the pillow down, exposing my eyes, raising an eyebrow in question of my strange behaviour.

  “We need to find something to do, Rome. I really need distracting right now.”

  He smiled widely, teeth gleaming. “You’ve stolen my line, Shakespeare. Ain’t I the one that’s meant to say that to you?”

  I giggled. “Probably, but I’m about ready to jump your bones and would prefer not to tonight if it could be helped. I’d like it if I didn’t go from near-virgin to slut after one night in your friggin’ company!”

  Romeo threw his head back, barking out in laughter and I joined him, unable to resist. He took my hand and wrapped it in his. “What should we do, then, near-virgin, just so you don’t give in and jump my bones? Although, it’s mighty temptin’ for me to just let you do your thing.”

  I slapped his chest playfully. “I have just the thing, if you’re game?”

  Romeo tapped my arse as I jumped off my bed. I shook my head in admonishment and inserted a DVD into my player. Climbing back on the mattress, I laid a chaste kiss on Rome’s lips and sat back to rest against the head frame, butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

  The film began and Rome nudged my shoulder, mirth in his chocolaty gaze. “Monty Python’s Life of Bryan?”

  “It’s Python.”

  Romeo lifted his arm and placed it around my shoulders. “If I don’t get to be inside you right now, I suppose Python is an okay substitute.”

  Swallowing hard, I met his gaze, detecting the blatant lust in his eyes. “R-right… well.” He burst out laughing at my stuttering.

  Shifting off the bed and straightening my nightdress, I pointed at Romeo and ordered, “Stay put. I’ll go grab the snacks!”

  8

  “‘He’s not the Messiah; he’s a very naughty boy!’ Best. Line. Ever!”

  Romeo chuckled at my impression as he finished off the rest of the popcorn.

  I snatched the bowl from his hands and gaped. “You’re meant to be an athlete! Isn’t that an overload of starchy-carby-crappiness for you or something? You’ve polished it all off, you greedy bugger!”

  He waggled his brows, flexing his muscled arms. “I’m a fuckin’ machine, Shakespeare. Popcorn’s no match for me!”

  I held up my hands, palms forward. “Sorry, I forgot I was talking to the Bullet!”

  Romeo’s hands shot out, grabbing my wrists, and he threatened, “Don’t,” with a harsh tone.

  I didn’t stop, assuming he was joking, and shuffled closer to his laid out body. “Allaaabbbaaammmmaaa!!! Get to your feet for your hometown quarterback, Romeo… ‘Bullet’… Prince!” I mimicked the roar of the crowd and began to sing his personal Jumbotron stat song. “There’s a bullet in the gun. There’s a fire in your heart. You will move all mountains that stand in your path…”

  He jerked me forwards and I landed against his torso with a smack, my nose almost flush against his. “Quit it, Shakespeare. Fuck!”

  I frowned at his mood, wrenching my wrists from his grip, sitting back. “I’m only kidding. You don’t have to be so bloody grumpy with me.”

  Rome’s sudden troubled gaze turned to stare out of the window. “I know, sorry, but I fuckin’ hate all that shit. You don’t know how much. I don’t wanna be the Bullet to you. You’re the first person to ever not be affected by all the football fame.” He looked back at me once again, cupping my cheeks. “To you… I just want to be Rome.”

  My stomach flipped and I leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m not affected by the football fame, not at all, but I can’t deny that it really was something watching you out there today. Don’t you get nervous in front of all those people?”

  “Nah. Used to it now. This is my fourth year with the Tide. However, this has been the worst season so far, by a yard. Well, up until today that is.”

  The sounds of smashing bottles from outside echoed around the room, and I shuffled to his side, laying my head on his chest, loving how it was between us… right… easy. Rome happily picked up a piece of my hair and wound it around his finger, only to let go and do it again.

  “So, MVP?” I asked quietly after a few minutes, enjoying the little tranquil oasis we’d created in my purple and white room.

  “Yeah. Crazy considerin’ I couldn’t hit a truck for the first half.” His gaze flickered to mine and down again. He seemed nervous. “The fans and team are pumped, sayin’ it’s because of you. That you’re my good luck charm, all from that one sweet kiss.”

  I froze and my breathing stopped, the trigger hitting me hard. I could feel my heart stop, and pins and needles devoured my arm. My hand slapped to my chest and I rubbed it against my sternum, willing the sensation to go, to just disappear. I focused on my breathing and remembered Grandma’s advice, Breathe in for five through your nose and slowly out through your mouth.

  Alarmed, Rome lifted his head, his face stricken with worry. “What? What’s wrong? What did I say?”

  He reached for my hand. I squeezed my eyes shut and once again the threat of an anxiety attack seemed to pass at his touch.

  Rome smoothed back my hair from my sticky forehead. “What is it, Mol? Tell me.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just something that my Grandma used to say to me. It took me back to those days. I panicked. I-I just… I was just surprised when you said it. Of all the ways to say what you did, you quoted her word for word.”

  His hand remained in my hair, kneading the back of my neck. “What did she say to you? What did I say?”

  “That I had sweet kisses.” I smiled weakly at the bittersweet memory. “Grandma would say that one sweet kiss from me would make any problem just that little bit easier.”

  An endearing smile flitted across Romeo’s face. “I believe she might be right. She must have been a wise woman because that’s exactly what you did for me tonight at the game.”

  Tears filled my eyes as I thought of the woman who raised me, the missing part of my heart. “She was. She was everything to me. We used to say we were a matching set. When she died, she took half of my soul with her. I don’t like to think of my past too much… It kills me to remember all that I’ve lost.”

  I fought back tears as Romeo remained silent, just letting my sadness abate. After a time, I settled back against the pillow and listened to
the laughter and fun outside. Rome stayed at my side, staring at our hands as he played with my fingers.

  “So you walked out of your own party?” I tried to move us on.

  “You weren’t there,” he answered immediately. He didn’t even have to think about it.

  I shifted onto my elbow, admiring the three small freckles that sat on the bridge of his nose. “Do I matter that much to you?”

  “Do you really not know?”

  I shook my head and he quickly pinned me to the bed below him, trapping my arms at my side. “I like the way you are with me. I like me when I’m with you. I feel like I could tell you anythin’, that I could bear my fuckin’ black soul. You make me feel… well… you know… You get me?” His head dipped forward shyly.

  I smiled at his bashful reply. “I get you, Romeo.”

  His lip curled into a smirk. “I just hope anythin’ I reveal to you wouldn’t be used against me in a public lecture.”

  Grimacing, I freed a hand and combed my fingers through his long blond hair, his head leaning into the touch. “I’m really sorry about that. It was so wrong of me. But that night on the balcony, I thought we’d made a connection, and when Shelly jumped into your arms, I was so mad… I felt… betrayed. It’s stupid.”

  Rome ran a finger down my cheek. “It’s not stupid. I felt the pull between us too. I was just shocked at Shel. One minute you and I were laughin’ and talkin’; the next she was burstin’ through the door, attackin’ me. I saw your face as you left and that was what it took for me to finally realise that I was officially done with her, with all of them. I told her we were through and no amount of pleadin’ and plottin’ with my parents would change anythin’.”

  “Done with all of them? All of the girls?”

  He dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I haven’t been with anyone since the day I met you. For the first time in my life, I wanna be with just one person. I wanna be with you. It’s all a little new for me. Hell has officially frozen over and I’m crossin’ to the monogamy dark side.”

  I giggled. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “What about your parents’ engagement plan for you and Shelly? They won’t like that you’re with me now.”

  His lip curled in disgust and his expression darkened. “Fuck ‘em. I don’t care.”

  “But—”

  “I said fuck ‘em, Mol, don’t wanna talk about it.”

  I moved a stray hair from his cheek, contemplating why he was so hostile. “Tell me what kind of business yours and Shelly’s parents have? What’s worth the pressure on you both to marry?”

  His mouth tightened and he rolled his eyes in defeat. “Oil. My father is in oil. Owns a lotta oil.”

  “Then… you’re…”

  “Rich?” he offered with a humourless smile.

  “Well… yeah.”

  “My father is rich. The company is responsible for a lot of jobs ‘round Bama.”

  Rome pulled my hand to lie across his chest. “I don’t care about the money, Mol. I’m sick and tired of them tryin’ to dictate my life.”

  I placed a kiss on his cheek and settled back down. “Shelly must be pissed that you dumped her once and for all.”

  He dragged his palms over his face. “It’s like she lives in her own little world. I tell her we’re nothin’, and she nods and tells me to take some time to think it through, that I’ll come to my senses. I assure her again that I’m completely done with her games, and she pats my arm and announces that she understands the pressure I’m under and therefore knows I’m not thinkin’ straight. How the fuck do you get through to someone that crazy?”

  I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “I don’t know.”

  Rome pursed his lips, ebbing the flow of his laughter.

  “What?” I asked, realising he was studying my face.

  Tapping the tape on my glasses, he answered, “Nice stylin’, Shakespeare. You trend settin’?”

  “Yeah, well, they’re my only pair. It’s this or being as blind as a bat. I’m trying to rock the whole shabby-chic thing until I get paid.”

  “Oh, you’re rockin’ it, all right. You’re rockin’ it real good.”

  The party outside suddenly increased in volume and Luke Bryan’s deep voice pumped through the stereo at a deafening decibel count. Rome and I got up to check out the commotion from the balcony, watching a blanket of the drunken students dancing and making out in force.

  Warm breath fanned past my ear and red-hot frissons trickled down my spine. Rome laid his chin on my shoulder, eyes fixed on the scene below, encasing me in a trap between his strong, tanned arms. “It’s gonna be all kinds a’ awkward climbin’ down your balcony into that mosh pit.”

  My eyes widened and my pulse raced. “People will talk, Rome.”

  He peppered kisses across my bare shoulder blade. I’d noticed since he’d arrived tonight, he was always touching me in some small way. “Then let ‘em talk. I don’t care.”

  “But I do. I don’t want them to think I’m just another one of your floozies. I’m not like that.”

  His arms tightened, indicating his anger. “They wouldn’t fuckin’ dare think that. I’d make sure of it.”

  “Would you?”

  His bulky arm snaked around my waist, drawing me to his chest, his mouth flush to my ear. “Don’t mistake yourself for one of the others, Mol. You’re much, much more. I’ll gladly convince anyone who thinks otherwise.”

  “Why am I more? I don’t get it.”

  “You just are. You somehow give me peace in my completely fucked-up world. You get me; no one has before. It’s that simple.”

  A burst of pure happiness directly hit my heart and I turned, my nose drifting across Romeo’s cheek. “You… you can stay here if you’d like. But… just to sleep, to avoid having to answer people’s questions.”

  Rome’s teeth grazed my neck, nibbling at the skin, and he groaned. “Fuck, I’d like that, Mol, probably too damn much.”

  Gripping my hand and walking backwards, Rome led me into my room. I closed the purple drapes and moved nervously towards my bed. I watched as he crossed his arms around his waist, pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a tattooed large black A on his left pectoral muscle. I recognised it as the sign for Alabama football. Heat spread between my legs and I shuffled on the mattress as I admired his bronzed skin and rippled muscles. His second inking was a beautiful calligraphy script running down his ribs on his right-hand side, too complex to read from a distance.

  My breathing turned shallow as his hands snapped open the top button of his low jeans, highlighting his hard stomach and his defined V. The heavy material dropped to the floor and Rome walked towards me, dressed only in his black boxer briefs—boxer briefs that highlighted his thick muscular thighs and the fact that he was fairly excited about our newfound closeness. A third tattoo lay on his hip, in the almost exact position I had mine. The large script read One Day. My curiosity was piqued.

  Romeo reached the side of my bed and flipped back the lilac covers, causing my thighs to clench at the sheer need accosting my body. He climbed in and his scent hit me like a ton of bricks: sensual, fresh, and sexy as hell. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, unsure about how to proceed. He placed his arm around my waist and jerked me back. His skin felt red-hot against my back and the slow motion movement of his hips caused me to moan out loud.

  Rome tucked his head into the spot below my ear. “We need to try and sleep or things will get outta control. I only have so much restraint.”

  “O-okay,” I replied breathlessly, and I placed my glasses on the table beside me.

  “Night, Shakespeare,” he murmured as his hand ran up and down my stomach.

  “Night, Romeo.”

  He huffed into my thick hair, causing a strand to drape over my chest. “I actually like the sound of my name on your lips. Somethin’ I never thought would happen. I think it’s the English accent. It sounds all proper, like the way Shakespeare intended.
No one calls me Romeo, has ever called me Romeo. I don’t allow it. But weirdly, I like it when you do.”

  I tried to turn, but his arms held me like a vise. I settled for kissing our intertwined hands instead, lilting, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d.”

  Romeo exhaled a sharp hiss from his lips and his hips undulated between my thighs. “Don’t… please…”

  “Why don’t you allow it?” I asked tentatively, pushing back against his movements.

  “Long story.”

  “We have time.”

  “Not now,” he said with finality in his tone and a squeeze of his arms, his tongue grazing my skin as he rocked even closer.

  I fought my need, stilling his hips with my hands, swiftly changing the subject to a safer topic, ignoring his sigh of protest. “What does the tattoo on your ribs say?”

  “‘The greatest accomplishment is not in never falling, but in rising again when you fall.’ It’s Vince Lombardi.”

  The words spoke to me as if they directly related to my life. I closed my eyes and watched the inspiring words circle through my head like a mantra. “It’s beautiful. This Vince Lombardi philosopher must be good. Why have I never heard of him?”

  He chuckled and playfully tugged on the ends of my hair.

  “What now?” I asked, exasperated.

  “He was a football coach. A very famous football coach.”

  “Oh. I really need to get up to speed on all things football.”

  His hold tightened around my waist. “I’d like it if you didn’t. You’re not impressed by the hoopla that comes with me playin’ football and I never want you to be either. It’s better if you don’t know in depth what it all means to folks ‘round here.”

  “You mean you really don’t want me to call you Bullet?” I teased.

  “Fuck no.”

  “Whatever makes you happy.”

  “Sleep, Mol,” he repeated through clenched teeth, “or we’ll end up doing what makes me incredibly fuckin’ happy.”

  I had to bite my lip to stop the soliciting moan threatening to burst free. “One more question, then I’ll sleep.”