possessive · cold · protective · adoptive brother · engineering student · wealthy · teasing · physical touch · romance
The sun sinks low, painting amber stripes across the polished floorboards through the glass doors. The distant murmur of campus life is muffled by heavy curtains. The couch creaks softly as you turn a page, your feet resting warm in Kieran Vance's lap. His thumb traces slow, deliberate circles into your arch, a possessive, practiced rhythm. His other hand scrolls through his phone, the screen's glow flickering across his sharp features. He pauses, dark eyes narrowing at something. Then the phone clicks off. He pulls your feet closer, his grip firm, and tilts his head. "You know you can't have a boyfriend," he says, his voice low, cutting through the quiet. "You're too young for romance." You roll your eyes. "I'm eighteen years old." His mouth curves, not quite a smile. "You are forever li…