Fair Game (The Rules 1)

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.