Page 29 of Ruled Out

I need to get her upstairs, and I sure as hell don’t trust her to walk up the narrow steps by herself like this. I also don’t mind the feel of her body pressed against mine, my arms cradling her smooth legs. Her hair is brushing up against my cheek, smelling of coconut and vanilla.God, she smells so good.

“Wow, this is fancy. Do I get a grand tour, like MTV cribs?” she chuckles as I carry her into my home. Though I’m pissed at her for getting this fucked up, I love hearing her laugh.It’s my new favorite sound.

“No, you don’t get a tour. We shouldn't even be in this predicament,” I reply, carrying her upstairs to my room. “I’m taking you straight to bed, then driving you home first thing in the morning. My only goal for tonight is to make sure you don’t get taken advantage of by some douchebag or choke on your own vomit.”

“To bed or to sleep?” she replies in what sounds like a Scottish accent.

“Huh?” I respond.

“Oh, come on! Jamie Fraser, duuuuh. Have you never watched Outlander?”

“No, and I have no desire to watch it now,” I reply, setting her on her feet when we’re finally inside my room.

“I can’t believe I’m standing in Knox Moore’s room,” she says in amazement, as if I’m not standing right next to her. She slowly turns her head, taking a minute to observe my room. It’s the definition of minimalistic, with gray walls, a dark wood dresser, and my king size bed in the center. All sexual innuendos aside, my bed is my favorite feature. It’s like sleeping on a massive cloud - the headboard matches my black down comforter, paired with gray cotton sheets.

“I’m going to run downstairs and get you some water and ibuprofen. Do you need anything else?” I ask.

“A birthday kiss?” she responds with a smirk before puckering her full lips.

Shit, is it her birthday?

“Very funny, Phoebe,” I scoff. “I didn’t realize it was your birthday. Other than getting drunk off your ass, did you have a good day?”Why am I asking her if she had a good birthday? I shouldn't care.

“Technically, my birthday isn’t until Sunday, but yes, tonight’s been fun. I know one thing that could make it better,” she says, arching her eyebrows.

Damn, this girl is horny when she’s drunk.I briefly let the fantasy of her as my girlfriend play through my mind. I imagine taking Phoebe out to a nice restaurant, wine and dining her, followed by rounds of dirty sex. My already aroused dick immediately twitches at the thought.Dammit, my little fantasy is turning me on way more than it should. Distracting me from my thoughts, my eyes go wide as they land on her right hand, red and bruised around the knuckles.What the fuck?Did she have to fight someone off?

“Phoebe, what happened to your hand?” I ask in a serious tone.

“Oh, this?” She looks down at her hand before hiding it behind her back. “It’s nothing.”

“Did someone try to touch you?” I snarl, feeling my blood pressure rising by the second.

“No, I’m fine,” she replies, looking around the room to avoid eye contact.Something happened.

“I swear to God, I’m going to kill that motherfucker,” I curse, clenching my fists at my sides. “I’ve always known he was a piece of shit.”

“Who?” she asks, her brows pinching together in question.

“Colin! Who else? I saw the way he had his hands all over you tonight. You’ve never been into him, but he just won’t give up. The asshole couldn't read a stop sign if it was right in front of him.” I’m seething, practically foaming at the mouth.

“What? You’rewayoff base! Colin would never. I hit my hand on a buoy this morning. I was swimming and accidentally bumped into it,” she replies, holding her hand out for me to see.

I wonder why her story sounds so familiar when suddenly, it clicks. She’s the girl Slater told me about at the bar, the girl with a hot body he couldn’t stop gushing about.Motherfucker.I don’t know if I’m more pissed at her for being so careless, or at him for talking about her like that. I want to call him up right now and tell him she’s mine, even though it would be a lie.

“Are you insane? You swam all the way out to the buoys? They’re there for a reason, Phoebe. The water is extremely dangerous that far out! You’re lucky you didn't drown or get caught in a riptide. Jesus Christ!” I respond, running my hands through my hair. I want to punch a wall, I’m so angry.

“Blah, blah, blah,”she mocks, making talking motions with her hands. “I’ve already been scolded by the blonde-haired loser,” she adds, rolling her eyes.

“That blonde-haired loser is actually my friend. He told me an unbelievable story tonight, both of us in shock over who would be sostupidto swim that far out on their own. I guess I should have known it was you.” I don’t care if my comment sounds harsh; I’m fucking pissed she would put her life at risk like that.

“Ouch, that hurt,” she says mockingly, clutching her chest. “What else do you got? Don’t hold back,Knoxy.”

“Okay, we’re done with this conversation.” I exhale as I run my hands through my hair. “There’s no point in talking to you when you think everything is a damn joke. I’m going downstairs, I’ll be back in a minute,” I add before slamming the door and stomping downstairs.

Less than five minutes later, I’m walking back upstairs with a large glass of iced water in one hand, ibuprofen tablets in the other. I have a box of saltine crackers wedged between my arm in case she needs food to settle her stomach.

When I walk into the room, I almost drop everything as I take in the view before me. Phoebe’s laying on top of the covers in the center of my bed, clutching a pillow under her head. She’s laying on her stomach and her dress has ridden up, revealing a tiny black thong resting between her plump ass cheeks.Holy mother of hell, this woman.She’s laying in my bed, looking like a goddamn dream. It’s taking all my self-restraint to not curl up next to her and wrap her small body in my arms.

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