I try—and fail—to cover the shiver that races down my spine when he touches me. This is all for show, I remind myself as I glance around. It’s pretend. “Are you cold?” Rhys’s voice is like gravel, the feel of his breath against the shell of my ear a distracting tease as he leans in close. “A little,” I lie. Which backfires spectacularly when he tucks me against his side, draping one heavily corded arm around my neck. He drops a chaste kiss against my hair and continues sauntering through the grocery store like this is the most natural thing in the world.
