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His fingers tighten around mine. “You make a pretty convincing girlfriend, Rules.” We walk the rest of the way like that—hands linked, attention following us across the quad. I tell myself it’s all part of the act. That this doesn’t mean anything beyond the terms of our agreement. At the steps of my dorm, yellow light spills across the stone. He stops, still holding my hand, thumb brushing slow circles over my knuckles that send heat climbing up my arm. “You know,” he says, mouth curving, eyes glinting, “this is the part where I kiss you goodnight.” I stare at him. “Short memory, O’Connor. We agreed—no kissing.” “I remember.” His grin softens. “I won’t unless you tell me it’s alright. I’m just saying goodnight like a civilized fake boyfriend.” A beat. “But say my name first.” “What?” “Say it,” he murmurs, voice low and rough—maybe by the cold. “Feels good when you do.” My heart stutters. I’m so confused. What is he doing? What does he mean? This is fake. This is acting. “Kieran.” The sound of his name lands between us. His thumb pauses, his jaw tightening just enough to notice before he schools it away. “A little physical contact sells the story, Rules,” he says easily, but his grip is firmer now. “It’s fine,” I whisper, too thin to mean anything. Fine, no contact…or fine, let’s try? He studies me, head tipped, eyes gone dark. His gaze hooks on my mouth and holds. His free hand lifts—knuckles under my chin; his thumb skims my lower lip. Not a kiss. Intent. It lands like a claim. My heart sprints. I should move. Remind him no one is watching. I don’t. Read FREE in Kindle Unlimited →https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G5BP19CF