My folks didn't even friggin' use it right-as a farm-they just wanted the biggest damn lot in Tuscaloosa. Total showboating.

Glancing back up at Mol, I could see her gaze was nervous as she checked out the surroundings.

Laughing slightly, I assured her. "Relax, they won't know we're even here. I come here all the time. It's where I get away from it all."

She tilted her head, staring at me with a disbelieving look.

"What?"

"This. You. A plantation. We're from completely different worlds." Catching the flicker of doubt in those brown eyes, I grabbed her hand, kissing it, and said, "This isn't me, believe me. If only you knew... All this belongs to my parents, not me. I'm just the same me and you're just you-Romeo and Molly Juliet."

The smile tugging on those damn full lips almost had me tackling her to the floor. "Come here," I demanded, pulling her to lie on the grass beside me. A giggle escaped her mouth as I did so. I couldn't take my eyes off her face.

Fuck, she was amazing.

Without thinking it through, I blurted, "I can't believe how beautiful you look with those lenses in. Your eyes are the strangest golden color... I'm having to try real hard to stop myself from touching you the way I want to."

That damn thumb of hers went to her mouth and I growled low in my throat, my cock springing to life. We were alone; I wanted her, the need to take her how I wanted-under my terms-beginning to take hold. She'd fucked one guy in her life and, by her own admission, didn't like it. And my style-when it came to sex-well, it wasn't exactly all romantic gestures and loving caresses. I was scared shitless that showing her that side of me could ruin it all.

And then eight words from her mouth made me snap. "You can touch me if you want to."

Sucking in a breath, like I'd just took a slam in my solar plexus, I warned, "Don't play with fire, Shakespeare. It's too much for a pretty little English girl to cope with."

A shy grin spread across her lips. Christ! I was holding on by a damn thin thread, and by the look of things, she knew it. "What can I say...?" she replied playfully. "I'm a risk taker."

"Mol..." I warned again through painfully clenched teeth. Eyes hooded with lust, my girl lifted onto all fours and began crawling toward me-the geek long gone and a fucking sex kitten taking her place.

She had one last chance to back away before I really let her have it. "Mol..." I cautioned one last time, but she didn't stop, and when she kneeled before me, the smell of vanilla made me lose all sanity. I gripped her bare thigh, never breaking eye contact, and smoothed my hand farther up the skin, right up until my fingers ran along the line of her panties.

Molly's warm breath panted quickly through pursed lips and, leaning down, she brushed them against my mouth. It was too soft, too little contact, but I let her set the pace. She was still pretty inexperienced and I didn't want to come on too strong. But when her hand moved down my stomach, tucked into my jeans, and almost brushed the tip of my cock, I fucking lost it-the time for chivalry and patience was long gone. I was going to make her come, watch her guard fall down, and enjoy every damn second.

Gripping the flesh of her thighs, I spread her across my crotch, her tits pressed right against my chest, my hand wrapped tightly around the back of her neck. My mouth smashed furiously against hers and, taking advantage of her position, I ground my hard dick right between her legs, letting my desire override anything else.

Massaging the soft flesh of her breast in my hand, I pressed farther against her mouth, then moved my hand to her pussy, and hearing her moan out load in desperation for my touch drove me crazy. She was more than liking what I was giving her, how I was giving it to her... doing it the way I needed it to be.

"Romeo..." She moaned in aroused frustration, those newly exposed eyes rolling as I ghosted my finger against her cotton-covered clit.

"Mol... I... I..." I wanted to tell her how I was feeling, but I was fighting against a lifelong-scarred blockage in my throat.

"Please..." she moaned again, pressing herself hard against my hand.

"Mol... God... you're making me fuckin' crazy..." I hissed out, biting into her exposed shoulder, trying to calm down.

"Rome... now!" she demanded, which just plain ol' pissed me off.

Taking her by surprise, I ripped her panties aside and brought her mouth to mine, shutting her the hell up, and impaled her tight hole with my finger. I worked her back and forth, feeling the heat build and the tightness of her inner walls clench.

I broke away from her, and she stared at me, couldn't take those eyes off me. "Don't ever tell me what to do," I said firmly.

Crooking my fingers just right, I skimmed the pad of my middle finger across that soft spot I knew would make her scream, teasing her, making her want more. "Do you hear me?" I barked again, the need to control my girl taking over every cell in my body. At this point, I'd gone too far to hide the real me.

"Yes. Yes," she moaned, pushing down harder on my finger, Fuck. She was perfect, a natural fit-openly receptive to my roughness. I'd never allowed myself to be like this with any of my random fucks, was never sober enough to care enough to try. But right here, right now, it was everything-full and utter disclosure of who I was.

My attention was fixed on Molly's every sigh, every contraction of her hot center, and the flush covering every inch of her bare, tanned skin. Then those eyes opened and, licking and biting her bottom lip, her hand crept down to my jeans. My cock twitched at the thought of her hand wrapped around the base, stroking the tip, but I froze and croaked painfully, "Mol, no, you don't-" My words lodged in my throat as her soft hand folded around my dick and gently began to stroke it up and down.

Shit. It felt too good to make her stop.

"Let me take care of you. Let me give you what you need. Please..." she begged, still rolling her damn hips against my hand.

Meeting her eyes, I was lost, blinded by her. There were no sounds apart from our ragged breaths and moans amongst the miles of rural cropland, and nothing else registered but the fucking insane pleasure we were giving each other. Actually, that was a lie. I was feeling a ton, probably too much to be revealed to my girl right now. I'd never felt anything this real before, and I needed time to digest it myself.

"Ah, Romeo... I..." Molly rode me faster, her pussy clamping down as I focused on her G-spot with my fingers and her clit simultaneously.

She was burning hot. By her rock-hard nipples, flushed face, and heavy eyes, I knew she was about to come, hard. "Let go, Mol... fuckin' let go," I instructed, and with one more thrust, she cried out loudly. I wanted to devour her screams so I smashed her lips to mine, her hand unrelenting on my cock as she hit her peak.

At the sight of her letting go, my balls tightened and, quickly lifting Mol, I rolled my hips to the side, groaning as streams of cum spread onto the grass beside me. She slowly moved her hand, but I didn't withdraw my finger from within her, wasn't ready to. I didn't want this addicting feeling to end.

The reality of what just happened between us sank in. Mol leaned forward and I kissed and nipped at her damp skin. My finger gently stroked against her clit, her breath hitching when it all became too much, too sensitive.

Leaning back from the safety of my embrace, she smiled shyly. Damn, she was beautiful.

"Hey, Mol," I whispered, my hand raking through a loose piece of hair in front of her face.

"Hey, you," she murmured back, but she was giving nothing away. In fact, she was being too shy. I instantly began to panic that I'd been too rough, too aggressive for her.

Fuck, was she hurt?

"You okay?" I asked tersely, every muscle fiber tensed for her response.

Her caramel eyes focused on the ground and shame surged through me-I knew the way I was-no holds barred-was pretty fucked up, probably too much for someone like Molly to understand.

But then she spoke, almost knocking me to the floor in shock. "More than okay."

"Look at me," I snapped out immediately. And fuck, she did... Right away.

Searching her eyes, I asked, "You liked that? You liked how I spoke to you, how I ordered you?"

She met my intense stare but didn't say a damn word. Shifting in nerves, I demanded again, "Mol, you did like it... didn't you?"

Fuck. The thought of losing her crushed me, my voice catching with emotion.

Stroking a finger down my face, her expression filled with affection, she whispered, "I did, Romeo. I-I didn't know that I'd like it... like that... but... I think we both know I did."

Muscles stretched, lips spread, and I knew I was fucking smiling-hell, not smiling, beaming. Needing another chance to touch her, I gripped her hands, waggling my brows, and ran them down my ribs. A questioning smile tugged at her lips.

"Are they all there?" I asked, loving feeling this free-light enough to joke, watching her lips purse in confusion, not following my meaning.

"What?"

"My ribs. Is there one missing?"

Careening forward and holding my waist, she muttered in amusement, "Okay, I think you've lost it. You think you're missing a rib?"

"Just thought God took one of mine when he made you." I knew that sounded lame, but fuck, I sucked at romance, and a girl like my Mol, well, she should have the best said to her, the most romantic words written about her. I didn't have that in me, couldn't give her what she deserved... but I was fortunate enough that she wanted me regardless, and finally, all them damn years at Sunday School were coming in useful. Hell, the way I was feeling right now, I'd stand dead center in Bryant-Denny and spout fucking poetry if it made her smile.

"Romeo, at times you're really sweet, you know that?"

Sweet? Fine, I'd take that. "Only for you."

Molly took my hand in hers and, pressing lazy kisses on my palm, got lost in her thoughts. Her eyes glazed with worry and she licked along her bottom lip.

Something was definitely up.

"What you thinking?"

"When you say you like to order, just how far does that need to dominate go?" she blurted, her face flushing red with either nerves or embarrassment. I wasn't sure.

I couldn't help it, but I burst out laughing. Fuck! She thought I wanted to tie her to a damn bed and whip the shit out of her? Mmm... I could see how it would be enticing, but it wasn't exactly my thing.

Facing Molly once again, her bastard teasing thumbnail back in her mouth, I assured her, "I'm not a sadist, so you can take that look off your pretty face. I just like to be in control... I don't know... It's how I am. There are some pretty shitty things in my life that I can't have power over so I need it with the things I'm good at. I just need the assurance that I'm in charge. I'm a good QB because I like to lead, run the show. It's the same with sex."

Tipping my chin, I urged her to respond.

Swallowing hard, she whispered, "I liked how you took control. I'm so used to having to be independent and self-sufficient, always making the decisions, and I hate it. That felt... freeing to give myself over to you, to hand over the reins."

Wrapping her in my arms, I jolted her right into my chest, my possessive desperation for her stronger than ever before. "You're mine now, Mol. You know that, right? I've never had anyone respond to me like you do-every move, kiss, and stroke-full and complete surrender of yourself." I worked a finger again, still inside her. I needed to see her come again. But this time she'd be coming as mine, full disclosure... I owned her now and she, in turn, me.

"Yes, I'm yours," she panted, slamming her hips down, then rolling back and forth. I worked her good, and I almost came myself as she exploded with a loud scream, thighs tightening almost painfully against my hand with her orgasm, then slumping against my chest, completely spent.

After a few minutes of silence, her breathing evened out and I smiled, realizing she'd fallen asleep in my arms. Staring at the blue creek, something happened. With Molly wrapped in my protective embrace, accepting me on every level, my issues, my need for control, my priorities shifted. Everything changed for me in that second, and my girl was now right at the top.

15.

We watched the sunset together.

That's right, me, Rome fucking Prince, woke a girl up who was dozing in my arms to watch a damn sunset... and it was friggin' incredible. I'd never known such peace before. I'd never known such happiness. I'd always known a rough life with my folks, but until Shakespeare came into my life, I'd never really stopped to think about just how fucked up it all was.

How fucked up I was.

My girl was tight in my arms, and I wanted to know more about her, about her family, wanted to know her more than anyone before. Shit. As far as I could tell, she'd had it bad in her twenty years. Where I had folks I wished would disappear, Molly would give anything to have hers back. She'd never told me how her daddy died, so not really thinking it through, I asked, and fuck, but I didn't expect the answer she gave.

"... I remember it like it was yesterday. I came home from school and my grandma was upset and sat in the front room. She told me that my daddy had been taken to heaven." She laughed, but it wasn't in amusement. I could feel her tense and knew it came from a place of real pain. "At the time I thought I was being punished for being a bad child. It soon became clear that he hadn't died of an illness or because God was punishing me, but he got up as usual, saw me, his little girl, out of the door for school, got into the bath, and slit his wrists with a razorblade."

Fuck. Me. I never expected that. What the hell do you say to a person whose father had killed himself in such a way?

"Shit, baby. I didn't think... I'm so sorry."

She went on to tell me how she struggled daily with his choice, why he did it. She told me about how she coped when her grandma died, and damn if I didn't have to fight a lump in my throat at the thought of my girl alone, nursing her grandma on her own, then the only person she loved dying in her arms. I couldn't help but picture the minutes that followed her grandma's death-how she would've been feeling, the quiet, the slam of realization that she was on her own in the world.

Molly had been fourteen when she lost her last remaining relative-four-fucking-teen. I knew I was gripping onto her too tightly, but looking up at me with those golden browns, she just smiled and laid a kiss on my mouth. She was so damn strong.

As she talked of her stint in foster care, I momentarily felt pissed at her father. Yeah, it's wrong to think ill of the dead, but for three years she'd been forced to endure loneliness in a stranger's home and had to throw herself into the only thing she loved-studying-to survive. But, hell, I didn't know him, didn't know his deal, so I felt I shouldn't judge. It was scary, though, how much her life in those years was like a reflection on mine-always alone, throwing ourselves into our passions as a distraction, and using it like a lifeline to get the hell out of the mess, even if it was temporarily.

"When I was seventeen, I passed my exams early, got into university a year young, and was offered an advanced place at Oxford." I snapped out of my own thoughts and listened intently once again. "I got my degree and came here. I'll move somewhere else for my doctorate."

That stilled me... friggin' scared the shit out of me too. She never stayed in one place too long.

"So you run?"

Breaking the calm we'd been sitting in, Molly grasped my arms, trying to pry my grip from around her waist. There wasn't a fucking chance I was letting go.

"Don't struggle. Answer the question," I bit out more forcefully.

"You have no idea what my life has been like! You don't get to judge!" she screamed.

"I'm not judging you. But you run from your problems, don't you?"

"So what? I don't have a real home, no family. Why not?"

"That may have been true before, but now you have people who care for you, truly care for you. I won't let you run away from me."

I needed her to believe in those words, believe in me. Now I had her, there was no way in hell I was letting go, and her running from me when times get rough was unacceptable.

I wasn't naive. I knew being with Molly was going to cause a bucket load of problems with my folks. Well, that's if they ever found out, which I would avoid at all costs.

Still attempting to pull away, I put my mouth to her ear. "I won't let you leave me." All the fight drained from her small body. It was the first time I'd ever seen her heavy emotional guard crack.

Molly broke. The floodgates opened and she cried and cried, unable to stop for several minutes. I rocked her until her sobs died. It could've been minutes, hours, days, and when the only sounds were a few stuttered sighs or an odd sniffle, I asked, "Why did you run from Oxford to here?"

Her head pressed back into my chest, and I laid kiss after kiss on her forehead.

"Oliver wanted more from me. He stayed on to do his PhD and wanted to take things further. I didn't-he knew nothing about me. I never told him.

"After we slept together, I knew I couldn't do it anymore. I thought being intimate with him would help me get closer, that it would bring my walls crashing down. But all I felt was strangling disappointment. I thought I was unable to ever be close to another person again. In the end, I freaked. I ran. Simple. He woke up and I was gone. I haven't spoken to him since."

Knowing that some British punk bastard had my girl naked, pinned beneath him, him coming within her, made anger pulse in my veins. I couldn't speak. It was like I was possessed, and for a moment, the severity of that possession scared me. The girl was friggin' bewitching me.

By the fidgeting of Molly's body, I knew she wanted me to say something, but I couldn't, couldn't cope with the thought of her with someone else. Eventually she settled down, accepting my inability to speak, and with a reassuring sigh, she confessed, "That was until you. I'm close to you. I let you in. Maybe I'm not as damaged as I thought."

Jesus. Those words did something to me deep inside, like a bolt of electricity billowed through my body. She was close to me; she let me in. I was an undeserving motherfucker, completely worthless-I'd been told so all my life-but that only made what she said that much more special. To her, I was worthy.

Feeling on top of the world, I said gently, "You're not the only one who feels like splitting when times get rough, baby, but from now on, I won't let you run anywhere if I'm not right there running beside you."