Sweet Rome

Looking up, I quickly registered what had him, and Austin—and now Jimmy-Don—gawking. Molly. My Mol looking like a friggin’ supermodel walking down the stairs.

Pushing away from the wall, I shouldered Reece out of my way, ignoring the way his tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth at the sight of my girl.

Ally winked at me as she passed, but I only had eyes for Shakespeare: tight black dress showing her unreal curves, her long brown hair falling in soft curls over her shoulders, and her nervously flushed face looking so damn beautiful that it nearly made me drop to my knees.

Reaching out, I wrapped my arms around her waist, fighting the worst case of blue balls I’d ever had. Pressing a kiss to her full lips, I whispered, for her ears only, “Fuck, Mol, you’re trying my restraint looking this beautiful. How the hell am I meant to get through the night? I’ll be fighting off the guys with a stick. They’re going to get in trouble if they even look at you for a second.”

It was true; up until now I hadn’t really had to worry about other guys watching Mol. She’d always slipped under their radar. But hell, she was beyond a friggin’ ten as she stood before me now—she always had been to me, but now the world would see it. I wasn’t sure I could stand other guys looking at her and imagining they were between her legs. It was going to drive me insane, no matter how much she assured me that she was mine and mine alone.

Tonight would be a test, that’s for sure.

We sat down in one of Club Flux’s private booths and ordered drinks from a blond waitress who looked vaguely familiar. I’d been right about tonight being a test—I’d already gained Molly’s disapproval for nearly punching out an overeager Tide fan who’d grabbed her to congratulate her on her kiss. She’d forgiven me, but who knew how long that would last.

The blonde came back with our drinks, smiling suggestively at me, and the memory started to resurface.

It was last season, maybe after the Iron Bowl against Auburn? I’d been drunk out of my mind when she’d made her move, sitting on my lap as I almost lost consciousness on my chair, then leading me to the back of the club. I’d f**ked her from behind, her face pressed against the wall, so I didn’t have to see who I was screwing. It’d never mattered; a hole was a hole. But with Mol, she’d be looking straight in my eyes and I’d savor every damn second.

As I shook the memory from my mind, I focused back on the waitress. Ah, hell. By the look on the blonde’s face, this wasn’t going to go down well.

Molly had stiffened in my arms, and I tried to ignore the chick as she did everything but strip before me. Then she gave up trying to get my attention and finally said, “Hey, Bullet, how’ve you been?”

How’ve I been? I didn’t even know the damn girl.

“We’re done here,” I said.

The rush of a challenge lit in the waitress’ eyes, and Molly began to fidget. Ally subtly booted me under the table, and Austin rubbed at his eyes in frustration at where this was clearly heading. The two of them were just pissing me off more; I didn’t need to be reminded that this was going to be real a clusterfuck of a situation.

“You never called me after our night together,” the blonde said, and I knew that was it. Molly’s first night in a club and boom, some cheap f**k tries to mark me as her territory. If roles were reversed, I’d have killed the f**ker by now—as it was, I wasn’t exactly sure how jealous Molly could get. I couldn’t work out how she would take all this crap.

“I was never going to. I’ll say it again… We’re done here. Or if you need a simpler answer… fuck off,” I growled.

Her mouth tightened and she spat, “I’d heard on the grapevine that you were pu**y whipped—fucking waste of a good cock.” She looked at Mol, taking in her natural curves and stunning face, and curled her lip. “And for that too. She must screw better than she wears that shitty dress.” I caught Molly’s sharp intake of breath. I knew she thought she didn’t measure up to others, and that comment had hurt her.

Mol jumped out of my arms and snapped at me, which was a first. Her reaction set me to reeling mad, but before I could call her on it, she bolted to the restroom… She’d f**king run.

“Hell, Rome! You’d better go fix this!” Ally shouted, shooting daggers at me across the table.

“You f**ked that waitress? Shit, can you set me up?” I glared at Reece, fighting the urge to launch him across the room. Tact, man, the kid had no tact or sense of damn timing.

“Go, Bullet, before I hit you again!” Cass pushed on my arm, and I shot up from my seat, nearly turning the bastard thing over, pounding through the crowd of dancers to get Molly the hell back.