Chapter 9
"If x equals the rate of change..." Knox's fingers trace idle patterns on my knee under the study room table. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Yes." I squirm as his hand slides higher. "The rate of change is... um..."
"Eyes on the calculus, Princess." But I can hear the smirk in his voice as his thumb strokes my inner thigh. "Unless you want the whole family to see how distracted you are?"
We're in the most visible study area – my father's idea of damage control. If his daughter has to date an enforcer, at least let people see them studying together. Improving her grades. Being a responsible influence.
If only they could see where his other hand is.
"Knox." I grab his wrist before he can venture higher. "I actually need to pass this test."
"And I actually need to touch you." He leans closer, pretending to look at my textbook. "You're wearing that perfume again."
I am. The one that makes his eyes darken every time I wear it. The one that usually ends with me pressed against various surfaces while his lips are on mine.
"Kennedy?" Patricia's sharp voice cuts through my increasingly inappropriate thoughts. "Your father needs you. Family photos."
Right. The big family gathering. How could I forget?
"Now?" I start gathering my books. "I thought that was tomorrow."
"Your grandmother arrived early." Patricia's lips thin. "And she's asking to meet your... boyfriend."
Knox's hand finally leaves my leg as he stands. "Guess that's my cue."
"Oh, you don't need to—"
"Wouldn't want to keep Grandma waiting."
Not long later, I'm watching Knox charm my entire extended family in the backyard of my childhood home. He's switched his usual bad boy aesthetic for dark jeans and a blue button-down that makes him look almost respectable. Almost.
"So, Knox." My aunt Susan corners him by the drink table. "Kenny tells us you're a hockey player?"
"Yes, ma'am. I play with Ace." He accepts a glass of wine gracefully. "Draft eligible this year."
"Such a violent sport. I always said Ace shouldn’t play." But she's clearly charmed by his manners. "All that fighting..."
“Hi, aunt Susan,” Ace mumbles from the distance, saving us from her judgments.
"Only when necessary." Knox eyes find mine.
Heat floods my cheeks. Beside me, my grandmother makes a thoughtful sound.
"Interesting young man," she says quietly. "Not at all what I expected."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, from your father's warnings, I expected some kind of thug." Her eyes twinkle. "Instead, I find a young man who quotes Fitzgerald, handles your aunt's interrogation with grace, and looks at you like you are the special young woman that you are."
"He doesn't—" I start to protest, but she pats my hand.
"Darling, I may be old but I'm not blind." She sips her wine. "The question is, do you look at him the same way when you think no one's watching?"
Before I can answer, Patricia appears with the photographer.
"Family photos first," she announces. "Then couples."
I'm shuffled through various configurations of family members, trying not to notice how Knox leans against the house watching me. His tie is loosened just enough to be distracting, and his sleeves are rolled up showing his forearms. It's unfairly hot.
"Kennedy?" The photographer waves. "We lost you for a moment."
"Sorry." I refocus on smiling. "Where do you want me?"
Finally, it's time for couple photos. Knox's hand is warm on my lower back as we pose.
"Perfect." The photographer adjusts us slightly. "Now look at each other." Like you’re in love.
I turn to Knox, ready to fake it, but the look in his eyes stops me cold. He's watching me with something raw and honest that makes my heart stutter.
"Beautiful." The camera clicks rapidly. "Hold that."
"Kennedy?" My mother calls from inside when the photographer puts his camera down. "Can you help me find that old photo album?"
"I know where it is." I grab Knox's hand. "Come on."
He follows me upstairs to my childhood bedroom. The moment the door closes, he has me pressed against it.
"Your room is exactly what I expected," he murmurs against my neck. "All pastels and academic awards."
"Stop talking about my room."
"Why?" His teeth graze my pulse point. "Getting impatient, Princess?"
"You've been teasing me all day."
He chuckles darkly. "Turnabout's fair play. You think I couldn't see you watching me during photos? Squirming every time I rolled up my sleeves?"
His hands slide under my sundress, and I gasp. "Knox."
"Yes?" His fingers trace the edge of my underwear. "Want something?"
"I want—"
A sharp knock makes us jump apart.
"Kennedy?" Patricia's voice carries through the door. "Your mother's looking for you."
"Coming!" My voice is embarrassingly breathy.
Knox adjusts my dress with practiced hands. "To be continued."
"But—"
He kisses me once, hard and promising. "Later."
We rejoin the family looking only slightly disheveled. My grandmother gives me a knowing look but says nothing.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of photos and family gossip. Knox plays his part perfectly – charming the aunts, talking sports with the uncles, even entertaining my little cousins with hockey stories.
He fits. That's the dangerous part. He fits into this world I've been trying to escape, makes it feel less suffocating somehow.
"Kennedy." Sawyer's voice breaks through my thoughts. We're back in our dorm room, the family gathering finally over. "You've been staring at that same page for twenty minutes."
"Just tired."
"Uh huh." She sits on my bed. "Tired from making out with Knox in your childhood bedroom?"
I throw a pillow at her. "Stop–"
"Please." She catches the pillow. "It’s all you two do."
"It wasn't..." I touch my lips unconsciously. "We were just keeping up appearances."
"Really?" She raises an eyebrow. "So all those little touches throughout the day? The way he watches you? The fact that you literally cannot take your eyes off him? It’s all for show?"
"Yes."
"Bullshit." She throws the pillow back. "You're in deep, Kenny. Like, drowning level deep."
"I'm not—" The denial sticks in my throat.
Because she's right. The way Knox looks at me isn't fake. The way my body responds to his touch isn't acting. The way he fits into my world, makes it better just by being in it – none of that was part of our deal.
"Oh god." I bury my face in the pillow. "I'm falling for him."
"Finally!" Sawyer flops beside me. "She admits it. Now what are you going to do about it?"
Good question. What am I going to do about the fact that my fake boyfriend makes me feel more real than anyone else ever has? That our arrangement has become something dangerous and honest? That every time he touches me, I want to beg him to never stop?
My phone buzzes.
Knox: Sweet dreams, Princess. Try not to think about what would've happened if Patricia hadn't interrupted.
Too late. I'm already thinking about it. About his hands and his mouth and the way he makes me forget everything except how much I want him.
How much I might be starting to need him.
"I'm so screwed," I tell Sawyer.
She just pats my head sympathetically. "Honey, you've been screwed since the moment you blackmailed him. You're just finally admitting it."
She's right.
I am beyond screwed.