Fair Game (The Rules Book 1)

by Monica Murphy

  “Yeah, it is.” I try to see it through her eyes but it’s hard. I’ve lived here three years. I’ve come in and out of this kitchen every day to get to the garage and I don't pay attention to shit. I don’t really ever hang out in the kitchen, beyond rushing in for a bag of chips or a beer. “You like it?”

  She goes to the oven, her fingers drifting over the burner knobs. “It’s a professional range.”

  “What?”

  “The oven and stove. It’s professional grade. Like, out of a restaurant.” She touches one of the burners. “It looks like it’s never been used.”

  “Probably, because it really hasn’t been. Tristan and I don’t cook much,” I admit.

  “Such a shame.” She sighs, her gaze finally lifting to meet mine. “I like to cook,” she admits.

  “Really?” I’m surprised. But then again, I’m not because I don't know anything about this girl. Nothing.

  Jade nods. “I really like to bake. Growing up, my grandma used to bake all the time and I would help her. I’m sure I was more a pain in her butt, but she was always so patient with me.” She smiles but it’s sad and her eyes get this far away look in them. “It’s one of my favorite memories of her.”

  “What’s your favorite thing to bake?” Her grandma must’ve died but I don’t want to ask. The memories might be too painful.

  “Homemade cookies. Cakes. My grandma made this chocolate cake that’s to die for.” Her smile grows. “I can bake a mean apple pie too.”

  “A mean one versus a nice one?” I tease, wanting to make her laugh. I don’t like thinking about her sad.

  She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. My grandma’s recipe is the best apple pie I’ve ever tasted. I even make the crust from scratch.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed.” I take a step closer to her, catching her scent, warm and sweet. “So tell me. What’s a guy gotta do to get you to make him a chocolate cake from scratch?”

  “You don’t like apple pie?” she asks, her eyes going wide when I draw even closer to her.

  “I prefer cake, especially ones that are to die for.” I smile. “I like the frosting part best.”

  She laughs. “I bet you were the kid who always stuck his fingers in the frosting bowl when your mom wasn’t looking.”

  “My mom has never baked a thing in her life. Besides, I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen when I was a kid. I’d just get in the servants’ way.”

  Her laughter dies and she stares at me as if I’ve sprouted three heads. “You had servants? As in plural?”

  “My family still does.” Hell, we have the housekeeper here, not that I want to admit it to her. Nadia comes in twice a week and cleans this place up. Once a week, she shops for us, keeping the fridge and pantry full. I don’t know what we’d do without her.

  “Wow.” She edges away from the oven, away from me, her hand sliding across the smooth granite countertop. Her nails are short and painted a deep red and her fingers are slender. I imagine them on me. Touching me. “I can’t even wrap my head around what that’s like.”

  No one can. Tristan gets it since he comes from the same world. Gabe’s family is wealthy too. It’s why we’re such close friends. We understand each other, what it’s like to be us. Not many people can wrap their heads around it.

  The doorbell rings, startling us both, and I turn toward the living room, listening as I hear Tristan answer the door, Gabe’s voice ringing through the house.

  “I’ve brought the party, motherfucker! So gimme a beer!”

  Jesus, he’s obnoxious when he wants to be.

  Jade sends me a look. “Your friends?”

  “Yeah,” I admit. “Look, I didn’t invite them. This is all Tristan’s thing. I had nothing to do with his plans.”

  “What did you plan for tonight?” She raises a delicate brow.

  “We were just going to hang out,” I say innocently. The way she’s looking at me…she makes me sweat. And not necessarily in a good way. “Maybe have some ice cream.”

  “Ice cream?” she asks incredulously.

  I sound like the biggest idiot ever. This girl makes me say stupid things. “Well, yeah. Or whatever you want. We have a pretty full pantry.” I wave a hand toward the living room, where I hear more people entering the house through the front door. How many people did Tristan invite anyway? “Or we could go hang out with everyone and watch the baseball game. You a Giants fan?”

  “I’ve always been more of a Dodger fan,” she admits with a wince.

  I clutch my chest. “That’s it. Sorry. This won’t work. Giants and Dodger fans don’t mix.”

  Laughing, Jade shakes her head. “Fine then. I’m out.” She makes like she’s going to leave but I grab her right at her elbow, curling my fingers around her arm, smoothing my thumb over her skin.

  “Kidding,” I say, my voice soft, my gaze locked with hers. “Let’s go see what everyone’s up to.”

  She nods. “Okay.”

  Pleasure ripples through me. She didn’t try to pull out of my touch once, and she’s sober.

  We’re making progress.

  Eleven

  Jade

  There are six girls in this living room, including me, and only five guys. Meaning the odds are off and they’re all glaring at me because I’m the one sitting next to Shep Prescott. He doesn’t pay attention to any of them, despite them constantly trying to get his attention. They call his name, they ask him questions, they offer to grab him another beer, did he want anything from the pantry? Or they keep trying to pass him a joint.

  He took a couple of puffs when Gabe offered him a hit but other than that, there’s been no smoking on his part. Not that I care. I’m not a big smoker of weed. I’ve tried it a few times but it’s harsh on my throat and always makes me cough no matter what I do. So I tend to avoid it.

  I do sip from my second beer as I sit next to Shep on the couch, hyper aware of his close proximity. Our thighs touch. His arm is slung around the back of the couch, his hand dangling precariously close to my shoulder and I swear I feel the occasional brush of his fingers in my hair. He’s extremely focused on the game. Yelling when there’s a bad play, a good play, it doesn’t matter. He’s really into it.

  Me, on the other hand? I’m really into watching him. He’s very…relaxed, and I figure it’s from the weed. He keeps asking if I’m okay, if I need anything, if I want another beer.

  He’s treating me like the girls are treating him. And it’s kind of awesome.

  Fine, it’s really awesome. I swore to myself I wouldn’t fall for his act. I thought he was a world class player. In fact, I know he’s a world class player. But for some reason, he’s into me and I’m going to enjoy this for as long as I can.

  I think this might be the beer talking.

  Gabe sits next to me on the couch, making his moves on some innocent girl who has no idea this is most likely her one and only chance with him. On occasion, he says something to me. Something silly and funny that makes me laugh. I like Gabe better than I do Tristan, but I think it’s because Gabe is so easygoing, even more so than Shep, and that’s saying a lot.

  There are other friends there. Two guys who are doing tequila shots and brought a bong with them that they keep passing back and forth. They’re friends of Tristan’s and they sort of keep to themselves.

  Weird. This entire night is weird. And confusing. I don’t know what Shep wants from me anymore. I know what I want. I sneak a glance at what I want, staring at his face, his perfect, full, sexy lips. I want those lips on me. Yes, that’s what I want. I want my hands all over him and his mouth on mine and his hands on my butt, pulling me in closer and…yeah. I want all of that. Every last drop of it.

  Clearly, the beer is talking.

  I drink the last of it and lean forward, setting the bottle on the coffee table. One of the girls—I can’t keep track of their names and I swear to God, they all look the same, blonde, fake and blonde—glares at me from where she’s sitting, her eyes narrowed, her lips purse
d.

  If I could flip her the bird, I so would but instead I lean back against the couch, yelping in surprise when I feel Shep’s arm come gently down upon my shoulders. I stiffen up, my breath lodges in my throat as I wait for him to say something. To do something.

  But he doesn’t. He keeps his arm firmly in place as he and Gabe discuss the last inning, his long fingers curling around my shoulder and gripping it lightly. His touch is possessive without being obvious and I want to lean into him. Rest my head on his chest and go to sleep. I’ve been going all day and I had a late class. I’m suddenly tired.

  Yep, beer is the culprit again.

  I wish everyone would leave. Just magically disappear so Shep and I could be alone on this couch. I wonder what he would do then. I would love whatever he wanted to do to me because oh my God, the only thing I could possibly want at this very moment is to feel his hands on me. Possessing me. His mouth on mine. Soft and sweet at first. Then firmer, more insistent. I bet he’s an excellent kisser. I bet he knows just how to use his tongue too. I’ve fantasized about his tongue and his lips for days. Since the moment I first saw him, truthfully.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice low so only I can hear, his mouth right at my temple. “I can just see the cogs turning in your brain.”

  My cheeks are hot. My entire body is hot. Should I tell him the truth? Probably not. That’s too risky. Being honest is not always the best policy, or something like that. “Nothing,” I tell him.

  “Liar.”

  I look up at him, ignoring whatever’s happening on TV, ignoring what Gabe’s yelling about. Forgetting about the girls’ glaring at me, not paying attention to Tristan as he yells he’ll be right back before he dashes into the kitchen.

  “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking,” I admit.

  Shep’s gaze smolders again and it sets my body on fire. He’s really good at that. “Now I definitely want to know.”

  “It’s too embarrassing,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Come on, Jade. Don’t be shy,” he coaxes.

  It’s the beer, I tell myself yet again. Otherwise I would never do this. Never say this. “I was wishing everyone would just…go away.”

  “Why?”

  “So…we could be alone.” Worry buzzes through me but it’s too late now. I’ve said it. It’s out there.

  “And why do you want to be alone with me?” he prompts.

  I want to roll my eyes but restrain myself. This is do or die time. I’m about to play true confessions with a guy for the first time in my life. “Because I want to kiss you,” I admit in a soft whisper. Not that he doesn’t already know this, because he so does. I tried to kiss him before but he rejected me.

  If he rejects me again? I don’t know what I’m going to do.

  He’s leaping off the couch in a flash, his hand reaching out for mine. I let him take it, squealing when he pulls me to my feet and we start heading down the hall toward…oh my God, his bedroom? I don’t know but I’m letting him pull me helplessly behind him and no one’s batting an eyelash, asking where we’re going, nothing.

  Shep stops in front of a door and pushes it open, dragging me inside, his hand never letting go of mine. He slams the door shut, turning me so my back is against the door, as he stands directly in front of me. He takes off his hat and tosses it across the room. I hear it land on the ground somewhere but I don’t care. I’m too enraptured with watching Shep as he takes a step closer, so close, our chests bump, and he rests his hands on the door above me, caging me in.

  I slowly lift my head, our gazes meeting, both of us never saying a word. I’m holding my breath, waiting for him to do something, say something and then his head starts to descend, his face drawing closer before he whispers against my lips, “Are you sober?”

  My breath leaves me in a stuttering gasp. “Y-yes.” I have a little buzz on but nothing like my vodka and Red Bull moment from last night.

  He pulls back the slightest bit. “You’re not going to forget this?”

  I shake my head, my hair rubbing against the door. He reaches out, curling a thick strand around his finger, and I want to die. Just…die.

  All from him touching my freaking hair.

  “Good. Because I’m never going to forget this either,” he murmurs just before he settles his mouth on mine.

  It’s electric, that first moment of our lips connecting. His hand is in my hair, his fingers sifting through until they’re touching the side of my neck, his thumb streaking along my jaw. He softly captures my bottom lip between his, giving it a gentle tug before he releases it and a sigh escapes me. It feels so good, so deliciously, wonderfully good and he smiles against my lips. I want to smile back but then he tilts his head to the side, his mouth on mine again as he deepens the kiss.

  He drops his arm to slide it around my waist, his hand settling at the small of my back and bringing me forward. I go willingly, curving my arms around his neck, my hands in his hair because so far, it’s one of my favorite places on him to touch. His tongue circles around mine, teasing it, making me crazy and I press my chest to his, silently marveling at how hard his body is.

  Because he is. Hard. Everywhere. I can feel him beneath his jeans. He already has an erection and I rub against him shamelessly. Just like I did last night, only this time, he’s just as turned on as I am.

  A groan escapes him and the deep masculine sound pulses through me, making me yearn for more. More touching, more kissing, more wanting his hands on me, all over me. I slide my hands down to curl them around his shoulders, then along the front of his chest, all the way down to his jeans before I slide them back up. I feel emboldened, uninhibited as I lightly nip at his bottom lip with my teeth, and I moan in delicious surprise when he sucks my tongue into his mouth.

  He says my name against my lips and he sounds tortured. I break the kiss first and open my eyes to find him watching me, his chest moving rapidly, his lips swollen, his eyes dark. He leans in again and I close my eyes on a sigh when I feel his mouth land on my neck, his damp lips blazing a fiery path along my skin. His tongue darts out for a lick, his teeth nibble and I clutch him close. My brain shuts down, shuts out everything else happening. The faint roaring coming from the television in the living room, everyone yelling when someone scores—those sounds I heard only moments ago are gone.

  All I can see, hear, taste, focus on is Shep. And it’s so good, so perfect I’m almost scared. How can it get any better than this?

  Shep

  I knew it would be like this between us. Jade’s mouth is perfection. The way she tastes, the sounds she makes, how she feels in my arms…

  Again. Perfection.

  Gripping her ass in my hands, I lift her up and she goes willingly, her legs wrapping around my hips, her arms sliding back around my neck. I continue kissing her as I turn and head for the bed, sitting down first with her in my arms and she presses against me, sending us both toppling backwards onto the mattress. Laughter huffs out of me when her thick hair lands in my face and I push it away just as she lifts up so she can stare down at me.

  Her hair creates a curtain over us as it falls around her face, shutting out everything else so she’s all I can see. “What are we doing?” she asks breathlessly.

  I let my hands drift back down over her ass. It’s as perfect as she is. Round and soft and I’m fucking dying to see it without the jeans on. Without any panties on either, though catching a glimpse of Jade in a pair of sexy panties and nothing else is high on my list. “What does it look like we’re doing?” I shift upwards so I can press my mouth to the spot where her pulse throbs at the base of her throat, breathing deep her intoxicating scent. My eyes close and I exhale against her skin, making her shiver.

  Her hands sink into my hair as she holds me in place, right against her neck. I know she likes what I’m doing. “I’m guessing this probably won’t work between us.”

  “Why do you say that?” I murmur against her skin. I took a couple of hits off the joint
Gabe had earlier and I got a good buzz on but now I feel like I’m high on Jade. On the feel of her in my arms, her body nestled close. Her scent, the sound of her voice, the taste of her skin, her lips, her tongue…

  Fuck. I should run. Push this girl off my lap, pay someone to take her back to her dorm and be done with her. She’s dangerous, but worse?

  She doesn’t even know it.

  “We don’t like each other.” Her breath hitches when I lightly graze her skin with my teeth. “We fight all the time.”

  “We didn’t fight tonight.” I lift up and brush my mouth with hers, enjoying the little hitch of her breath when our lips connect. “The last thing I want to do is argue with you, Jade.”

  After I make that statement, there’s no more talking. Our mouths are fused, our tongues tangled, our hands everywhere. Her hips thrust against mine, subtly at first, driving me fucking insane with wanting her. My cock is hard, my skin is hot and then I’m rolling her over so she’s beneath me, her vibrant hair spread all over my pillow, her head tilted back, her lush mouth swollen and red from my kisses. Our ragged breaths mingle as I study her, my knees on either side of her hips, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Reaching for her, I settle my hands on the front of her shirt, my fingers slowly undoing the buttons. She doesn’t utter a word of protest, just stares up at me with those big hazel eyes, her skin flushed, her freckles…Christ, I want to kiss every single one of them.

  But my gaze falls from her face so I can see the prize I’m slowly unveiling. The last button comes undone and I spread her shirt apart, staring in fascination at her chest. She’s wearing a white tank with one of those bogus built in bras or whatever they’re called and I can see her nipples. Small and tight, protruding against the thin fabric of her shirt.

  I want to suck them into my mouth.

  Her breasts raise on a deep inhale and I wonder if she’s pushing them into my face on purpose. There is a faint smattering of freckles across her creamy skin and I bend down, pressing my face into her cleavage like some sort of pervert. Some sort of tortured pervert because holy hell, she smells good. And feels good. Her skin is so damn soft.