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.
I spotted her ahead of me. The blond waitress was standing at the bar, watching me run with a bitter smile on her face. Stupid bitch, she’d done all that on purpose, and it’d worked.
Reaching out, I grabbed Molly’s arm, only to have her wrench it back, her golden eyes furious and filled with hurt. Fuck, it was the first time I’d earned that look from her, and I completely panicked. She looked… resolved… like her mind was made up on something.
No! She couldn’t…
Beyond frustrated, I took her arm, dragged her with me like some f**king caveman, and locked us both in a dusty old closet.
Molly was panting, her fists clenched in anger. She didn’t look like she was in the mood to be placated, so I just spat it out, “I f**ked her once. Last year. There was nothing more to it. You don’t need to be upset by it, and you certainly don’t need to f**kin’ run away.”
By the way she froze, nose turning up in disgust, I realized I’d f**ked up… again. “Well, excuse me if I don’t enjoy your exploits flaunting their slutty selves in front of my face!”
I could feel myself getting madder. How the f**k was that my fault? I’d tried to brush her off; Molly had seen that. How could I help it if she wouldn’t take no for an answer?
Closing in, watching Molly freeze in anticipation, I shouted, “You want to know all about my sexual past, all the sordid details? Fine! I’ve f**ked a lot of girls, in many different ways, in many different places. They’d throw themselves my way and I’d give them what they wanted, and they’d f**kin’ love it.” I was pumped with too much adrenalin and knew I was being an ass, but when Mol’s eyes blazed and she smacked me across the face, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
She’d f**king hit me! Molly, my timid little Mol, had cracked me right across the f**king face. Guess I’d found her breaking point.
“Did that feel good? Have you got it out of your system now?” I said coldly.
Molly instantly cried out, covering her mouth with shaky hands as tears fell down her cheeks. She was disgusted with herself. I could see that much.
Seeing her so sad had me backing away to the other wall, croaking, “They f**ked Bullet. They only ever f**ked Bullet…”
Sniffing and wiping frantically at her eyes, she whispered, “Nice, Rome. Real nice. Is that what you’ll do to me? Let me f**k the great Bullet Prince, give me what I want, and move on?”
God! What else did I have to do to prove she was different? We’d done plenty in bed but hadn’t gone all the way. I respected her and didn’t want her to feel used. I could see the conflict on her face, that look urging me to power forward and say, “Not at all, Shakespeare, but hear this. I’m going to f**k you, but I’m also going to make love to you. I’m going to own every goddamn piece of your soul, and I’m never going to let you go. You’re going to scream my name over and over until it’s permanently lodged in your friggin’ throat. You’re not going to be just a f**k to me, Mol—you’re going to be my f**kin’ salvation!”
She already was. She was making my life better day by day. How could she not know that?
Molly couldn’t meet my eyes, and the way she’d closed herself off was making me nervous as all hell. “Baby,” I said almost inaudibly as she closed her eyes in anguish. “You’ll make love to me—Romeo—not some pathetic f**king football alter ego. You’ll get the real me, all of me, forever and ever. Is that clear enough for you?” She still didn’t say anything, and a foreboding lump blocked my throat.
Pressing her forehead to mine, I tried to keep my voice low and calm. “Christ, Mol! I’ve never done this before. If I’d known you were out there waiting for me, I wouldn’t have f**ked all those chicks. But I can’t take it back.”
She sagged against my chest and looked up, completely defeated, running a finger down my cheek. “It’s all too much, isn’t it? Your family obviously hates me, Shelly won’t back off, you turn on anyone who even looks at me, and these… girls you’ve had in the past seem not to be able to let go. I have my own issues, Rome—you know this—and piled with yours… it’s just too much. How can we possibly work under all this stress?”