Chapter 12 Talon
TWELVE
TALON
Idon’t know what possessed me to agree to Mara and her ridiculous plot. But damn if she didn’t look good on that balcony. And the kiss? Fuck me sideways.
So, of course, I’m now moving across the crowded quad to go be the chivalrous boyfriend that I am and find my fake girlfriend so we can end up in a campus gossip Instagram post by tonight.
Fake or not, Mara’s mine now, and no one else on this campus gets to forget it.
Through a part in the crowd of people, I notice her striking black hair. My immediate thought is she looks so damn good, but then I notice a Psi Theta asshole leaning a little too close to her. The corner of his mouth tilts at something she said and it pisses me off.
Oh, fuck this. I lengthen my stride, realizing that what I’m about to do I may enjoy more than I should. But she asked for it. By the time I reach Mara’s side, the guy’s hand is hovering near her arm like he’s actually about to touch her.
Over my goddamn body.
I cut into their exchange with a bright, fake smile, wrapping a possessive arm around Mara. “Hey, Princess. Am I interrupting?”
The three-pump-chump prick blinks in confusion, looking between Mara and me, trying to piece together why an OCK officer would be calling the twin sister of a rival frat’s president “Princess.”
“Oh, I–uh, can we help you? Mara are you—”
I don’t let him finish, my smile hardening at the edges. “Yeah, well, conversation’s over. Now, quit breathing in my girl’s space before I curb stomp you and mess up those pearly whites your daddy paid for.”
He pales, mouth opening and closing for a moment. “I…” he mumbles.
I continue to glare at him until he pivots and scurries off, nearly tripping over a few other students in his haste.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, Mara elbows me hard in the ribs. “You’re an ass. Poor kid is a pledge,” she hisses, cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment.
I chuckle and lean down to murmur near her ear, “That’s what you signed up for, Princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, trying to shrug my arm off her shoulders.
I tighten my hold and steer us toward the dining hall, through the thinning late-morning crowd. “Whatever you say, Kitten,” I tease with a grin.
She lets out a frustrated huff but doesn’t try to pull away again. Fine by me. If she thinks I’m not going to milk this arrangement for all it’s worth, she’s adorable.
She wants a pretend boyfriend? I’ll give her the full experience.
The dining hall is packed and noisy at midday. As we collect our lunches, Mara casts a longing glance toward the corner where her friends usually sit. Not today.
I whisk her tray out of her hands before she can object and carry it along with mine to the center of the room. My crew’s table is smack dab in the middle of the action—exactly where I want us. A few of the guys already there exchange baffled looks as she trails behind me begrudgingly.
I drop onto the bench and pat the spot right next to me. Mara hesitates, but with so many eyes on us, she plasters on a tight smile and sits. The moment she does, I drape my arm along the back of the seat, effectively caging her against my side.
The others shoot me questioning grins, but I silence them with a flat stare before turning my attention to Mara. She’s busying herself with her fork, clearly intending to eat and pretend I don’t exist.
Cute.
I have other ideas.
I spear a piece of chicken from my plate and hold it near her lips. “Try this.”
She stiffens, eyes darting around at the spectators definitely watching our every move.
Playing along, she leans in and takes the bite.
A tiny spot of sauce clings to the corner of her mouth, so I swipe it away with my thumb, then pop my thumb into my mouth to lick it clean, never breaking eye contact.
A chorus of low whoops and giggles rises around the table. I flash the onlookers a lazy grin. “Enjoying the show?” I drawl. That earns a round of snickers and a few of the gawkers finally turn back to their own lunches.
Maddox drops into the seat across from us, tattoos flexing as he tears into a sandwich. “Almost better than the goat,” he says around a mouthful.
Mara blinks. “The goat?”
Knox smiles wide. “You haven’t heard? Rook and Mad here painted ‘OCK RULES’ across a prize show goat and let it loose in the main hall.”
“They—” Mara’s fork clatters against her plate. “That goat got seized by PTO. My brother said it’s being boarded out somewhere.”
That makes Maddox barks out a laugh. “They stole my fucking goat?”
“Correction,” Rook cuts in, “Dredyn’s goat. And it’s not just any goat. That was a registered Nubian—expensive bloodline.”
Mara stares at him. “Why the hell would you care about a goat?”
Rook finally cracks half a smirk. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Beck pipes up from two seats down, not looking up from his laptop. “Technically, PTO filed the damages at nine grand. If Rook and Mad don’t fake community service, the Greek Council is threatening sanctions.”
Mad throws a fry at him. “Fake? I’m putting in the hours. Shoveling shit at the animal shelter counts.”
“Yeah.” Knox snorts. “But only because you’re the one who put it there.”
That cracks the whole table. Even Rook lets out a quiet huff of amusement.
Mara shakes her head. “You’re all insane.”
“Accurate,” I say, tilting her chin toward me with a finger, forcing her to look at me while the laughter simmers around us. “But you’re sitting right in the middle of it. That makes you what, Princess?”
Her lips part, ready to argue. Then, she shuts them.
“Complicit,” CJ says.
Mara shoots him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. He just shrugs and downs the rest of his soda.
I drop a kiss against her temple just to watch her bristle. “Exactly. Complicit.”
Under the table, I slide my palm onto Mara’s bare knee, just below the hem of her skirt. Her entire body tenses and she shoots me a warning glare, which I answer with a light squeeze of her thigh. My fingers creep an inch higher, warm against her soft skin.
Mara sucks in a quiet breath. To anyone watching, we probably look like we’re huddled together, whispering sweet nothings. No one can see how my hand is inching up her skirt. She shifts in her seat, crossing her legs tightly.
“Talon, quit it,” she hisses under her breath, keeping a smile fixed for our audience.
I dip my head closer, feigning innocence. “Quit what?”
“Nothing physical is needed when we aren’t in front of cameras,” Mara mutters, staring hard at her tray as if it’ll save her.
A low chuckle rumbles in my chest. I give her thigh one more teasing squeeze. “Think of it as practice.”
She responds with a strangled little sound in her throat, then goes pointedly silent. Resuming her meal, she ignores me, though the telltale redness in her face isn’t going away anytime soon.
By the time lunch is over, Mara is as tense as a bowstring. I sling her backpack over my shoulder and curl an arm firmly around her waist as I steer her out of the dining hall. If I weren’t holding her, she may sprint away.
When we reach the lecture hall for our shared class, Mara tries a last-second swerve toward a row of seats in the middle—likely aiming to slip away. Nope. I herd her firmly to a pair of seats off to one side, ignoring her annoyed huff.
She plops into a seat and immediately scoots an inch away from me, so I hook my foot around the leg of her chair and yank it back, flush against mine. The sudden screech of metal on tile echoes through the room, drawing every eye. I just flash a relaxed, unapologetic grin at the gawking classmates.
“What? Just keeping my girlfriend close,” I announce, shrugging innocently. A few people snicker, and Mara hides her face in her hands, mortified.
With the professor still absent, I figure I might as well keep misbehaving. Mara busies herself taking out her notebook, steadfastly avoiding my gaze. Smirking, I reach over and gently brush her long hair off her shoulder, deliberately baring the side of her neck.
She looks ready to murder me, but before she can say another word, the professor strides in and calls the class to order. Mara shoots me a final death glare and faces the front.
While the lecture drones on about cognitive biases, I keep my hand on Mara’s thigh the entire time.
She goes rigid, keeping her gaze fixed ahead, but she doesn’t push me away.
She wouldn’t dare draw attention in a room full of people.
Hiding a grin, I inch my fingers higher, tracing idle patterns along her thigh.
Her pen trembles in her hand as I toy with the hem of her skirt, and I can see her breathing quicken even as she pretends to jot down notes.
Halfway through the lecture, Mara has had enough. Without even glancing my way, she suddenly drops her hand under the desk and clamps it over mine. Her nails dig sharply into the back of my hand.
I pause, arching a brow at her profile. Her grip relaxes slightly when I stop moving, and I allow myself a small, wicked smile.
She’s made her point, so I behave… for now, leaving my hand where it is, high on her thigh. Because at least now she’s holding my hand.
Who’s the winner now?
Toward the end of class, I notice Mara tugging down her skirt and crossing her arms over her chest self-consciously.
“Stop fidgeting,” I murmur, leaning close to her ear. “You look perfect.”
She shoots me a withering side-eye before snapping her gaze forward again, pretending to listen to the end-of-class announcements.
The second the professor dismisses us, Mara practically bolts from her chair. She shoves her notebook into her bag and beelines for the door.
She can run, but she knows I’ll follow.
I take my time, shoving my papers together, slinging my bag over my shoulder. By the time I make it into the hallway, I notice she hasn’t made it very far down the hall so I’m able to catch up to her.
She doesn’t make it three steps before my hand closes around her wrist, just enough to make her stumble back a half-step into me.
“Whoa, Princess… running off without a goodbye kiss?”
She yanks at her wrist, but I hold firm, tugging her flush against my chest.
“Let go,” she snaps.
“Not a chance.” I lean in. “What would people think if I let my fake girlfriend bolt the second class ended? Doesn’t exactly sell the fantasy, does it?”
Her nostrils flare and she wrenches free with more force this time, spinning to face me. For a beat, she’s just standing there, breathing fast, cheeks flushed.
“Talon—”
Before she can say more, I step in, bracing one hand on the wall beside her head, boxing her in. I flash her a grin sharp enough to cut. “See? Much more convincing.”
“This is supposed to be fake, Talon,” she hisses, keeping her voice low. “You’re taking it way too far!”
I dip my head until my lips hover just above her ear. “Too far? Princess, I’m just getting started.”
She sucks in a breath and presses back against the wall. “This isn’t what I asked for,” she bites out, trying to sound firm despite the quaver in her voice. “I asked you to pretend to be my boyfriend for the tabloids, not—not whatever this is.”
“And that’s what they will think,” I murmur as I trail the back of my fingers down her cheek. She stills, her eyes widening at the gentle touch. “You wanted a boyfriend, didn’t you? Now everyone knows you’re taken. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Mara swallows hard. “You don’t have to be so physical in a fake relationship.”
I give a low, husky chuckle. “Sweetheart, that’s the best part of this deal for me.
” My free hand drifts to her hip, my thumb brushing a slow circle just above her waistband.
Mara’s lashes flutter at the contact, a tiny gasp catching in her throat.
“If you think I’m gonna let any guy on this campus even wonder if you’re mine, you’re adorable …
” I lean in closer, my next words a possessive growl. “And you’re wrong.”
Mara’s breathing turns unsteady; she’s staring up at me like she can’t quite decide whether to slap me or pull me closer. Her chest rises and falls quickly, and her lips part, but no retort escapes.
I catch her gaze flick down to my mouth and back up. A triumphant heat coils in my gut at that little tell. Oh, she wants me to kiss her, she just doesn’t know how to admit it.
Then, just as swiftly as I trapped her, I pull back. Mara remains pressed against the wall, eyes wide and lips trembling with words she can’t seem to say. I flash a final cocky grin and turn away.
I’m pretty sure she’s going to stay there a moment, heart hammering, trying to convince herself this was all just for show. Let her. She can pretend all she wants.
Strolling out of the building into the late afternoon sun, I run a hand through my hair and allow a satisfied smile to spread across my face.
One day, she’ll stop pretending she doesn’t want me. One day, I’ll bring Mara Black to her knees.