Fair Game (The Rules 1)

We need to see where this takes us.

“Like I’d stalk you. I think you’re an asshole, remember?” She jerks her arm from my hold, her foot on the edge of the deck and where the stairs start. One minute she’s standing before me, the next she’s falling…falling…

It goes in slow motion but happens so fast, I leap forward, catching her before she goes crashing onto the stairs. I’m holding her in my arms, leaning against the stair railing and bent over Jade, one hand cupping the back of her head, her hair clinging to my fingers, silky soft and fragrant.

Everything about her is perfect. And soft. She’s staring up at me, a grimace of what looks like pain crossing over her delicate features. “Are you okay?” I ask, hearing the panic in my voice but not really giving a crap. Her near fall just scared the shit out of me.

“I’m fine. It’s just…” Her voice trails off and she winces again. “My ankle. I think I twisted it.”

Without hesitation I scoop her up and carry her into the house, ignoring her protests, ignoring how she beats on my chest with her fist to get my attention. I’m focused on taking care of Jade, nothing else. I feel like an ass, driving her away, making her almost fall.

“Put me down,” she says for about the twentieth time. “Where are you taking me?”

“To one of the back bedrooms so I can look at your ankle.” I angle her to the side and carry her down the narrow hallway, kicking in one of the bedroom doors which is thankfully empty and haul her inside, where I set her carefully onto the bed. “Now let me look at it.” I sit on the edge of the bed, ready to reach out and start probing but she jerks her legs away from me, whimpering when she does so.

“Go away,” she says with a sniffle.

“Stop being such a baby.” I brace my hand on the mattress on the other side of her legs, caging her in. “I’m trying to check out your ankle, not look up your skirt.”

Though now that I mention it…

“Yeah right. God, do you think of nothing else or what?” She rolls her eyes and leans back against the headboard, making herself somewhat comfortable.

Which is good. Real good. I hope this means she’ll let me make sure she’s okay without much protest.

“Think of what?” I ask innocently as I let my hand settle carefully on her foot. She flinches, tries to move away but I circle my fingers gently around her ankle, keeping her in place. “It doesn’t look swollen.”

She leans over the slightest bit, the scent of her perfume washing over me, a heady mix of floral and citrus. “It doesn’t hurt as bad,” she admits.

“Yeah?” I lift my head, my gaze meeting hers. We’re close. Kissing close. Not that I want to kiss her. Not really.

Okay, I’m a liar.

“Yeah,” she whispers, parting her lips, a shaky exhale escaping when I sweep my thumb over the top of her foot.

I drop my gaze, taking in her pale blue painted toenails. “Cute.”

“My toes?” She wiggles them. “The color matches my shirt.”

Ah, the perfect excuse to check out that shirt again. I love how much of her it exposes without being trashy. Her skin is pale but not ghostly and she has a smattering of freckles on her shoulders. Makes me wonder where else she might have freckles. And why I’m suddenly so attracted to freckles.

I drift my hand up, over her calf, stopping at her knee. Her leg is smooth and if we were both drunker, I’d let my hand continue its search, going higher and higher until I ended up under her skirt. Under her panties…

“What are you doing?” she asks, sounding the tiniest bit breathless.

“Making sure you’re not injured,” I answer, proud of how under control I sound. Inside, I’m chaos. My heart is thumping hard against my chest and my breathing’s accelerated. I grip her knee, and realize my hand is fucking shaking.

“I think you’re trying to get your hand up my skirt.” Leave it to Bitch Face to call me out. I can’t help but find her straightforwardness attractive. No girl is ever straightforward with me. They’re always coy. Playing games and flirting and never asking for what they really want. They always defer to me.

After a while, that gets pretty damn boring.

“Maybe I am,” I say, moving my hand to rest on top of her knee.

Her lips curve into the smallest smile and seeing it feels like a victory. As if I’ve just won an extra difficult battle and that tiny curve of her lush lips is my prize. “You’re pretty determined, aren’t you?”

She’s not pushing me away. I need to take this moment. Seize this fucking moment and make it mine. Make her mine. At least for tonight. Her scent is making my head spin and just touching her knee has got me sporting wood. “I’m always determined.”

“Determined to piss me off?”

I chuckle and her smile grows. “Am I doing a good job?”

“You’re an expert at making me mad.”

“I think we’re having a moment,” I tell her. “A bonding moment.”

She looks the slightest bit horrified. “No. Way. That is the last thing I want to do.”

I raise my eyebrows, let my hand slide up a bare inch more. Then another. I’m so close to getting under that skirt, it’s not even funny. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“You don’t like me either. You call me Bitch Face.”

“You introduced yourself to me as Bitch Face.”

She tilts her head, all that wavy red hair tumbling over her shoulder. My fingers itch to touch it. “I did, didn’t I?”