Fair Game (The Rules 1) - Page 98

And he did. I knew he was sorry. I just like to give him shit for it.

“It’s all good. We held our own and bailed early,” I explain as I take a sip from my coffee.

“Where is Jade? Is she here?” Gabe asks.

“Still in bed. My bed.” Sleeping and cute, all naked and mussed. I’m tempted to run back up to my room and fuck her one more time before she has to go to work but I’ll restrain myself.

Barely.

“So she’s moving in for the summer,” I announce. They both stare at me in quiet shock. “I’m in love with her. And she’s in love with me. We’re trying to make this work.”

“Seriously?” Gabe asks. “She’s moving in?”

“Seriously,” I confirm. “Just for the summer though.” Maybe longer if I can convince her.

“That is pretty fucking serious,” Tristan adds.

“I know.” I smile. “I can’t wait.”

“What are you going to do this summer besides play around with Jade?” Gabe asks.

“Probably officially join the soccer league again.” I’ll need to so I can keep the weight off from all the cookies Jade’s going to bake me. “Maybe take Jade on a trip or two for a couple of days. Nothing too far. She’s going to work through the summer.”

“Unbelievable.” Tristan shakes his head. “I never thought I’d see this day, especially not this soon.”

“What day?” I ask.

“The day that Shepard Prescott settles down with a girl. A normal, working girl he actually wants to be with.” Tristan smiles. “I’m happy for you, man.”

“Thanks,” I say, settling on the barstool right next to Gabe’s. “I’m happy too.”

“So no more one and done,” Gabe says. “You’re over that.”

“Totally.” I start to laugh. I forgot about the one and done thing. I can’t imagine being with Jade only once. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of her. “That stupid rule was definitely made to be broken.”

Early August

I stride into the house, polishing off the bottle of water I brought with me to soccer practice when I stop short at the view greeting me in the kitchen.

It’s Jade, bent over the oven with the door open as she peers inside, her perfect ass wagging in my direction. She’s wearing a brightly printed bikini with a little white coverup skirt over it and she looks like something out of a dream.

A particularly dirty one.

Quietly I sneak up on her, careful not to pounce when the oven door is still open. She closes it and resets the timer, then turns to approach the counter opposite where she stands when she spots me.

And smiles.

“Hey, sweaty man,” she greets, a coy smile curling her perfect lips. Her skin is tinged with pink, her hair is pulled up in to a high ponytail and I’d bet big money she just spent some leisure time out by the pool. That bikini barely covers her goods and my hands itch to touch all that bared skin. “How was practice?”

“Exhausting. Hot like the depths of hell.” All true. I approach her, drawing her into my arms and holding her close. She pretends to protest, like she hates it when I’m shirtless and sweaty after a particularly hard soccer practice, but I know she’s full of it.

She loves me like this. I don’t know how many times I’ve pulled her into my sweaty arms and the next thing I know she’s attacking me. Yanking off my shorts and grabbing my cock and trying her best to get me inside her as fast as possible.

My girl is dirty. Insatiable.

And I love it.

“Mmm, well I made cupcakes so that should make your day brighter,” she murmurs against my neck just before she kisses it.

I close my eyes and savor the feel of her in my arms. We’ve established a steady routine over the summer that’s worked out perfectly. I love having her living in my house, sharing my bed. She’s quite the cook, her skills not just limited to baking. We spend a lot of time by the pool, she works part-time at the candle shop and as every day passes, I realize I’m more and more in love with this girl.

Life couldn’t get any fucking better.

“Tell me you made homemade frosting,” I murmur against her hair.

She pulls away slightly to smile up at me. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“A woman after my own heart.” I lean in to kiss her but she dodges my lips.

“I thought I already owned your heart,” she teases, her fingers dancing across my chest.

My skin tightens at her touch and my cock hardens beneath my shorts. Damn it. It’s like she looks at me wrong and I get a hard on. Not that it’s a bad thing. We always put my condition to good use.

“You do,” I whisper, taking her hand and placing it directly in the center of my chest. “You own every piece of me, baby. Just like I own every piece of you.”

Her eyes darken in that way they do when I know she’s aroused. I have all her tells figured out. When you spend as much time together as we do, that happens. And I love it. I love her. “I like it when you talk possessive.”

“Really? Because when I won you in that bet and I claimed you as my prize, you slapped my face. Hard,” I remind her.

She smiles and reaches up to cradle my cheek. “That’s before I knew better.”

“Knew better?” I reach for her ass and cup her cheeks, tempted to yank her bikini bottom off and take her right here in the kitchen.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

“I had no idea that I was the one who was the real winner.” She smiles and pushes up on her tiptoes to press a lingering kiss to my lips. “I love you, Shep. Shepard. Sexy Shep. Man of my dreams. Owner of my heart,” she murmurs.

Tags: Monica Murphy The Rules
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