Fair Game (The Rules #1)

by Monica Murphy

  Okay. Something’s not right.

  Like I could forget her. And the way she’s watching me, like she wants to eat me up with that sexy mouth of hers? Fuck, that is so right I can barely pull my gaze away from her. “Yeah, uh sorry about that,” I say as I turn around and reach out to pat her shoulder awkwardly like a complete idiot.

  She swallows visibly, her gaze still locked on my mouth and, holy shit, what is she doing? What are we doing? She’s not protesting but come on. This is Jade. The girl who so sweetly introduced herself to me as Bitch Face. Who accused me of being her stalker. This is the girl that slapped my hand away when I snuck it up her skirt. And no girl ever does that.

  “Are you really okay?” I ask. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

  “It’s okay.” She sounds like she means it. “I made new friends. Em and Em.” I turn to look at the girls who tried to give her cocaine for God’s sake and she’s suddenly there, pressed up behind me, nuzzling her face against my back. “You smell fucking amazing,” she breathes.

  The gust of her warm breath on my skin makes everything within me tighten. Yeah, something is definitely not right. I can appreciate her new attitude but it’s so completely opposite of her usual mood, I’m on guard. Grabbing her hands, I remove them from where they’re resting on my hips and turn in the circle of her arms, not quite ready to end the physical contact just yet. “Were you really going to snort that line?”

  She smiles and tosses her head a little, all that glorious red hair falling down her back. The black cardigan has disappeared, thank God, and I let my gaze drop to her equally glorious cleavage on display with that tight white shirt she’s wearing. I’m tired, pissed that I had to deal with Stan the freak for so long but all that’s forgotten in the midst of Jade. “Probably not. I’ve never done coke in my life. So don’t worry, you’re not getting involved with a drug fiend or anything like that.” Her smile fades and her cheeks color the faintest pink. “Not that we’re getting involved or you know, dating. Since you don’t do involvement. Or date. You don’t even allow girls to ride in your precious car.”

  What the fuck is she talking about? I let go of her hands and they immediately find themselves on my chest. I could get used to touchy feely Jade real quick. Rambling Jade is another story. “Okay. So what else have you been up to with your new friends?”

  “She found her wings, Shepard Prescott!” the girl still crouched on the ground yells.

  Jade giggles and steps closer to me, her hands moving up and down my chest slowly. Extra slow. And she’s watching her hands move too, like she’s fascinated with the idea that she’s actually touching me. I know I am. “I might be a little drunk,” she admits.

  “Ah.” That makes sense. And unfortunately for me, I refuse to take advantage of a drunk Jade. I do have some standards. “A little? Or a lot?”

  She giggles again and this time, plasters her body against mine so I can feel just about every inch of her pressed into every inch of me. “A lot. Vodka and Red Bull is dangerous. I’m feeling…loose.”

  “Loose,” I repeat, taking a deep breath when her hands continue to roam up, curling over my shoulders, sliding around my neck and up into my hair. My lids waver because Christ, her touch feels good but I need to stop this. I’ve fucked plenty of drunk girls before in my life. I’ve been plenty drunk myself while fucking too.

  But I want Jade to remember this. Remember us. A quick drunk lay is not on my agenda tonight.

  “Oh, yeah. Real loosey goosey.” She’s whispering, her fingers tighten in my hair and she tries to tug my head down to hers but I resist. Barely. “I’m feeling horny, too.”

  Get the fuck out.

  Did she really just say that?

  “Jade.” My voice comes out gruff because holy fuck if I’m not feeling horny too. I try to get out of her grip but she’s surprisingly strong. The little growl of frustration she gives is sexy as hell and when she stands on tiptoe, her mouth pressed against my neck, I swear to God I’m this close to losing it. Forget my good intentions and just give her everything I’ve got. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying,” I mutter.

  “Why? Don’t you like it? I thought you wanted this sort of thing. Not in your car though.” She kisses my neck, her lips damp and so fucking soft. Everything about her is soft and curvy.

  But I don’t get why she keeps mentioning my car. “Someone could see us.” Not that it matters if anyone sees us or not. I’m not trying to hide her. But I am trying to get her under control.

  “So?” Her lips move across my neck and I grunt when I feel a little sting.

  Did she just bite me? I think she did.

  I rest my hands on her hips to push her away, but I don’t. It’s like I can’t do anything but enjoy this. “Your friends are right there. We should go.”

  “I don’t want to go.” She withdraws the slightest bit so our gazes meet. Her pupils are huge and her cheeks are flushed. She looks beautiful and…wasted. “Kiss me, Shep. I’ve been dying for you to kiss me all night.”

  Well, drunk Jade is definitely honest Jade and I love that. “Jade…” I touch her cheek, mesmerized by the way she tilts her head back, her bee stung lips slightly parted, her lids lowering as if she’s expecting me to kiss her at this very moment…

  Instead I cup her shoulders and set her away from me, needing the distance. Hating that I did that because I’d much rather kiss her. Devour her.

  Drown in her.

  Her eyes flash open, full of fire. Now there’s the Jade I know. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you home.” I grab her by the arm and steer her off the porch. “You’re tired.”

  “No I’m not,” she protests, trying to jerk out of my hold but I tighten my fingers.

  “You’re drunk,” I say instead as I escort her down the stairs.

  “What, Shepard Prescott can’t close the deal?” one of the girls calls after us. “Jade honey, you need to find someone new if you can’t get him to give it up for you. You know nothing’s going to happen in that car!”

  Jade presses her lips together, her head averted as she blinks furiously. Everyone on the porch is laughing, both of the girls and Stan, so I hurry my steps, practically dragging her with me.

  She’s embarrassed. And I feel like a shit because I’m the one who embarrassed her.

  I hit the unlock button on my keyless remote and she hurries to the passenger side, throwing open the door before I can get it for her and climbing inside. She slams the door as I approach, glaring at me through the tinted window, her arms crossed in front of her chest, plumping up her breasts.

  Staring at her, I blow out a harsh breath, push the hair away from my face and then round the car, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the engine so I can get us the hell out of there.

  “This is all your fault, you know. You left me there,” she says the moment I pull away from the house. “I got bored, I started hanging out with Em and Em and next thing I knew we were passing flasks around.”

  Flasks? Not just one but multiple flasks? “Em and Em? Like the candy?”

  “Like Emily and Emma. They’re sweet. They’re like surround sound. You know what I mean? It’s like they talk at once, coming at you from all sides.” She drops her arms and turns sideways in her seat to look at me.

  I chance a glance at her, see the hurt still lingering on her face. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of them, but I didn’t want things to get out of control.”

  She smiles, the sight of it sending surges of pain to my heart. Like there’s a miniscule baby in a diaper sitting on her shoulder zinging a constant stream of arrows right at me. “I thought you liked it when things got out of control.”

  I return my attention to the road, clutching the steering wheel hard. “You’re drunk, Jade.” I don’t know if I’m reminding her or myself. Probably both.

  “So?”

  “So I don’t take advantage of drunk girls.”

  She starts laughing.
“I find that hard to believe.”

  Jesus. This whole having a reputation thing is a real pain in the ass. “Maybe I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  The laughter stops. “Why? Am I that disgusting? A few hours with me and you realize your mistake?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You may as well have. I should be happy about this turn of events, right? I hate you. I don’t want you.” She dips her head, I see all of that gorgeous red hair fall forward out of the corner of my eye, obscuring her face. “I guess you don’t want me either.”

  Without thought I hit the brakes hard and pull the car over to the curb, my tires squealing. She lifts her head, her wide gaze meeting mine, her lips parting to come up with some quick protest or quip, I’m sure, but I cut her off.

  “You really think I don’t want you?”

  She gapes at me, appearing at a complete loss for words. A miracle moment I should note.

  “Really?” I goad, wanting to hear her answer so I can prove her wrong.

  So fucking wrong.

  I stare at Shep, shocked by the incredulous anger in his thunderous features. God, he looks good right now. Like, extra good, all angry and sexy and intense. His hair is a mess from running his fingers through it—and it’s super soft, I know this because I touched his hair, sunk my fingers in all that incredible softness. Rubbed myself all over him like a cat in heat, kissed his delicious neck.

  Who knew a neck could be so delicious? And smell so good? Who knew that delicious neck could belong to someone like Shep? A guy I supposedly despise.

  “I—I don’t know w-what to th-think,” I stutter, pressing my lips together and feeling stupid. He’s making me so freaking nervous. The air in the car is charged, filled with electricity that seems to bounce between us and I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin when he touches me, his fingers drifting across my knee and making me shiver.

  “Then you’re drunker than I thought because I want you so fucking much it’s killing me,” he murmurs, his voice low and so incredibly deep I feel it between my legs where I’m throbbing.

  For him.

  “But I’m not going to do anything to you tonight,” he continues, crashing all my hopes and dreams with a few choice words. “You won’t remember it and that would be a fucking shame. Or worse, tomorrow you’ll regret it, tell me you were drunk and you would’ve never let me touch you or kiss you or fuck you. So screw all that. I want you just as into this as I am. Nothing less.”

  His little speech lights up everything inside me, making me ache. I ache so bad for him, I don’t remember ever feeling like this for anyone else. No other guy. No one.

  He wants me just as into this as he is. What does that mean? That he’s into me? That he likes and wants…me? After everything I’ve said and done? I told him I hated him only minutes ago. He should be beyond frustrated with my immature antics.

  I may as well keep it up though, right? Stay consistent?

  “So you won’t even kiss me?” I ask, my voice small, my humiliation knowing no bounds. It’s like the words fall from my lips without thought. No way would I ever say something like this to him sober. I totally blame the vodka.

  He sends me a heated look, one that completely steals my breath. “You want me to kiss you?”

  Yes, yes, yes. A million times yes, pretty please with your sugared lips on top of mine.

  I shrug, wishing I could tear my gaze from his but I…can’t. “Well, yeah. If you want.”

  The man actually has the nerve to laugh. “If I want, she says.” He shakes his head and looks down, the sight of the wry smile curling his perfect lips making me feel a little wild, a little out of control. Like I want to throw myself at him and see if he’d catch me. I think he would. Scratch that. I know he would. I can feel it in my bones. “You just said you hated me.”

  “Um.” I swallow hard, feeling twenty times the fool for making that statement. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “Uh huh.” He inhales deeply, his chest rising and falling in this magical way that has me staring. His chest is really broad. And hard. His entire body is hard. I should know, since I tried to climb him only a few minutes ago. “I shouldn’t.”

  Ugh. His refusal of me is starting to give me a complex. His speech about wanting me to remember everything is ringing false. Maybe he finds me repulsive. I was a total bitch the entire night so I can’t blame him. Besides, isn’t this what I want? To be rid of Shep Prescott once and for all?

  No. Don’t bother lying to yourself. You want him. And it makes you crazy.

  “Why shouldn’t you?” I ask.

  “I already told you why.” He removes his hand from my knee and I feel the loss of his touch. “Let’s get you home.”

  “No.” I give in to my urges and lunge at him, throwing my body on top of his. He lets out a surprised grunt, his hands landing on my waist as I readjust myself so I’m straddling him in the driver’s seat, my knees on either side of his hips, my skirt riding up so high I’m probably flashing my panties.

  But I don’t care. I’m drunk and my head is spinning. Being in such close quarters with Shep is a heady feeling. His big hands slide to my hips, our panting breaths mingle together. I brace my hands on the seat just above his head and look down at him to find he’s staring in fascination at my chest, which is mere inches away from his mouth.

  Oh, God. His mouth. I want it on me. On my skin. I want his tongue on me too…

  “Jade.” He tilts his head up, his gaze meeting mine and then he shuts his eyes on an agonized groan, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my shirt and touching my bare skin. My breath catches at first contact and all I can think is more please. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” Oh, this is fun, torturing Shep. I release the seat to touch his hair once more, curling a soft strand around my finger, watching with breathless anticipation as he slowly opens his eyes, the mysterious dark brown depths drawing me in, hypnotizing me.

  “I won’t kiss you,” his perfect lips say.

  I slump against him, letting my forehead press against his. Now I’m the one who’s tortured. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  He squeezes my hips. “There’s something to be said for anticipation.”

  “What, that you’re trying to drive me out of my mind?” God, he’s so warm, so solid beneath me. I remove my hand from his hair and rest it on his shoulder. His broad as a mountain, very muscular and perfect shoulder.

  Everything about this man screams perfection.

  “Think of how much better this will be when we finally do kiss,” he murmurs as he reaches out and gently cradles my chin, his index finger drifting across my lips in a ghostly caress. “Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes sliding shut for a brief moment and a surge of power rushes through me.

  His other hand tightening around my hip, he caresses my skin with his thumb and all the power drains out of me, just like that. I want to scream. I want to press my mouth to his and end this torturous moment. I could. It would be so easy. Just lean in and do it. Settle my mouth on his and force him to kiss me.

  But I don’t. Something inside me makes me hold back. Instead I lift my forehead away from his and lean back, studying him. Look my fill since this is the first time I’ve had Shepard Prescott so close. Like I can see every single one of his pores close or I can count every single one of his eyelashes close.

  He has a lot of eyelashes. And those dark, dark eyes that reveal nothing. He watches me as intently as I watch him, his lips slowly parting as he works his jaw, drawing my attention to the stubble that grows there.

  It’s tipped with gold too, just like his eyelashes, his hair, his fucking bank account. I bet he has a secret stash of gold bars buried deep somewhere and again, I’m hit with the notion that I’m nothing to this guy. He’s just a player and I’m most likely setting myself up to get played.

  “It’ll be worth the wait,” he finally says, his deep vo
ice breaking the silence.

  I raise a brow. “Are you saying you’re worth the wait?”

  He smiles and shrugs. “You tell me. You’re the one who’s on top of me.”

  It’s the way he says it, his words layered with all sorts of sexual innuendo. I’m both irritated and aroused. Irritated more at myself for being aroused.

  How I feel about Shepard Prescott is ridiculously confusing.

  With an exaggerated sigh I lift away from him, noting the way his hands suddenly become involved as I tumble back into the passenger seat. His fingers tickle along my back and drift across the inside of my thigh in the move and I yelp, falling into the seat like an idiot, breathless and frazzled by his sneaky touch.

  Shep doesn’t say a word. He barely even looks at me. Merely puts the car into drive and pulls back into the street, turns up the music as we continue our drive back to the dorms. Like what just happened between us is no big deal.

  But it’s a huge deal. I almost kissed Shep. I threw myself at him and he refused. Talked like he plans on doing this with me again. And again. That in the end, we will end up naked together and oh my God, I can’t freaking wait.

  “So what happened, you big ho? You totally fucked him, didn’t you?”

  I barely crack my eyes open at first sound of Kelli’s voice. When Shep dropped me off at the dorms a few hours ago, I’d found my room empty. I figured Kelli was out with Dane.

  I’d been thankful for the alone time. My head still spinning from too much alcohol, I’d stripped down to my panties, threw on an old tank top and collapsed into bed. But I couldn’t sleep, too wound up from my weird date with Shep, going over and over in my mind everything that happened. The way he looked at me. How he touched my lips, his fingers light, the tortured sound of his voice. The things he said.

  You’re drunker than I thought because I want you so fucking much it’s killing me.

  I want you just as into this as I am. Nothing less.