Page 52 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

“Define normal.”

“I don’t know. What do regular people do on their days off?”

His fingers are still intertwined with mine, a casual intimacy that feels anything but casual. “We could spend the day on the beach again.”

“We did that last time. Let’s do something different.” I try to ignore how each small touch of his fingers sends electricity through my skin.

“Fair point. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He shifts closer, the movement seemingly unconscious. “Tonight? Movie marathon? Make popcorn and make fun of a bad action film?”

“That sounds...” Perfect. Dangerous. “Nice.”

He grins, and my stomach flips. “I’ll make the popcorn.”

“Great. But I need to change first.” I gesture at my sundress. “Not exactly movie marathon attire.”

His eyes trail over me in a way that makes my skin tingle. “I don’t know. Looks pretty perfect to me.”

“Flatterer.” I stand, reluctantly pulling my hand from his. “I’ll be right back.”

In my room, I take a moment to breathe. Something is shifting between us. It has been all day, and I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend I don’t feel it.

I change into yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt, pausing briefly in front of the mirror. This is just a movie night—With my fake fiancé—Who I can’t stop thinking about kissing.

When I return, Nate has changed too—worn jeans and a soft henley that makes me want to curl up against him. He’s scrolling through movie options.

“Better?” I settle beside him.

He looks at me, really looks at me, and the warmth in his eyes makes me shiver. “You’re always beautiful, Lace.”

The nickname, the compliment, the casual intimacy—it’s too much and not enough. I grab the remote, needing something to do with my hands. “So, what are we watching?”

He lets me change the subject, but his arm slides around my shoulders as we scroll through options. I find myself melting into his side, my head eventually resting against his chest where I can hear his steady heartbeat. This is dangerous territory, but with the sunset painting us golden and his warmth surrounding me, I can’t bring myself to care.

We share a huge bowl of popcorn, but Nate eats most of it. I’m astonished he can still eat after dinner with my family. I’ve completely lost track of the plot, too aware of every small movement Nate makes beside me. At some point, we shifted, so I’m practically tucked into his side, his fingers absently playing with my hair.

“Want the last handful?” he asks, his voice rumbling through his chest where my head rests.

“Mmm, share it?”

He scoops up the last few pieces, but instead of handing me my share, he brings a couple of kernels to my lips. My breath catches as I open my mouth, my lips brushing his fingers. His hand freezes for a moment, and I hear his sharp intake of breath.

When I look up at him, the movie forgotten, his eyes are dark and intense. A grain of buttery salt still clings to his thumb, and without thinking, I reach up and wipe it away. His hand catches my wrist before I can pull back.

“Lacey...” My name is barely a whisper on his lips.

The air between us feels electric, charged with weeks of denied attraction and pretend touches that never felt pretend at all. His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist, finding my pulse point, and I know he can feel how fast my heart is racing.

“We shouldn’t,” I manage, but I’m already turning toward him, drawn like a magnet.

“Probably not,” he agrees, his other hand sliding into my hair. “But I’m not going to stop this time.”

I shake my head, unable to form words, as he pulls me closer. “I don’t want you to stop.”

The last word barely leaves my lips before he kisses me, and everything else falls away. This isn’t like our staged kisses for the cameras. This is real and raw and devastating. His lips are soft but demanding, and I melt into him, my hands fisting his shirt to pull him closer.

He groans into my mouth, the sound sending shivers down my spine. The kiss deepens, turns hungry, and suddenly, I’m in his lap, his hands spanning my waist as mine explore the broad planes of his chest.

“God, Lace,” he breathes against my neck, pressing hot kisses along my throat. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

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