We played ball together in high school, and he was the worst player on the team. Not because he wasn’t skilled, but because he was a shit team player. His daddy owns half the marina, and Wade has spent his life acting like he owns the other half too. Mean-spirited, a bully to the core.
I’ve always fucking hated him.
I pin him with a look, daring him.
He’s either too drunk or too stupid to notice.
“She’s cute as fuck,” he says, loud enough that the guys next to us look over. “The librarian?” He nods in her direction, and something hot and violent rushes through me when his eyes land on her. “Sweet little thing.”
“Is there something you wanted?”
Kyle materializes at his shoulder, slinging an arm around his neck. He’s drunker than Wade, and the look on his face says he thinks he’s about to say something funny. “Yeah—your girl.” Laughter cracks out of him, but the smile on Wade’s face goes still. “He asked her out three times and she shot him down. Foryou.” Another oblivious laugh. “How the fuck didyoulandthat?”
“By not being an asshole.”
Wade’s eyes slide to me, his smile coming back to life, tighter now. “How old is she again? Heard she’s never had a boyfriend.”
Who the fuck told him that?
"Which would mean she’s probably a?—”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll break your fucking jaw.”
They laugh, blow me off.
“Relax, dude,” Kyle says, but they begin to retreat.
“Yeah,” Wade says, an edge to his voice. “Tell her I said hi.”
I watch them disappear into the crowd as Leo slides our drinks across the bar. My hands are steady, The rest of me isn’t.
He asked her out three times, and she said no to every advance.
Something tells me Wade Pruitt has never heard no three times in his life.
Fuming, I head back to the table.
The second Molly sees me, her smile falls. "What's wrong?" she asks, taking her offered drink, but otherwise ignoring it.
I soften, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Nothing. Just some asshole I went to high school with."
She knows, reaches for my hand and squeezes it, dispelling every bad thing that ever happened to me. "Come sit--oh. No chairs."
"I don't mind standing."
"Orrrr," she starts with a trouble-making smirk on her lips as she hops down, "you sit. I'll sit in your lap."
The temptation is too strong, and I'm out of fucks to give when it comes to what anybody thinks.
So I sigh and say, "Whatever you want, peaches."
The second her sweet, perfect ass is seated in my lap, I realize my mistake.
It's not just the curve of her ass against my cock, though that is my most immediate issue. But being with her like this, in front of everybody. Every motherfucker in this room knows she's mine now. I can touch her, kiss her, hold her, and I do. Gone is the longing and wishing--my arm is around her waist, my hand on her thigh, fingers trailing and circling her skin. The neck of her top is wide, and there's a little bit of her bare shoulder on either side that I can't seem to keep my lips off of. Nothing weird, just the occasional, affectionate press of my lips to her skin. Or my hand resting in the curve of her waist. The scent of her iseverywhere, driving me crazy. The smell of her soap reminds me of the shower again, and I have to shift her to accommodate for my cock. She gives me a knowing little smile over her shoulder that almost takes me out.
This morning I told her I wouldn't stop her when she's ready to fuck, and she looked at me like she was about to say it. I'm content with how things are, more worried about her than myself, always. The way she's acting, I don't think it'll be long. But I kinda hope she'll wait.
The amount of restraint it's going to take for me to be gentle is herculean. So much harder than when we're fucking around, especially now that I have the freedom to want her and she knows what to expect, knows my body, knows her own. But when it comes tosexsex, I have to be careful. Promise myself I can fuck her like an animal once she's comfortable. I hope it's enough.
