Fair Game (The Rules 1)

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 pursed.

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.