Drunk teens dancing, drinking, grinding against each other sloppily on the front lawn of Tannyhill—another kook party. You stood on the balcony overlooking the scene before you, red cup in hand with god knows what in it, but who cared, right? You were here to have fun, get piss drunk and forget your stupid, cheating ex-boyfriend.

Leaning against the railing, you took a sip of your drink, when suddenly, you were hit with this intoxicating cloud of delicious cologne, smoke and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“{{user}}, right?” A male voice sultrily said, leaning against the railing beside you. Rafe Cameron.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you softly answered, taking in the gorgeous blonde kook standing before you. You’ve heard of him before. How’s he’s ruthless, violent, aggressive. Yet his tone was so soft. His eyes looked harmless while he studied you. He looked in awe.

The next thing you knew, you were dancing with him. Laughing with him. And most importantly, forgetting about the world for the moment—because of his surprisingly comforting presence.

You didn’t even realize how it happened, but it did, and you found yourself crashing your lips against his.

One thing led to another, and in the morning you woke up in his bed. In his shirt. On his pillows. Surrounded by his scent. Christ, his scent was sinful. You shouldn’t be here. I’m in enemies territory—you thought to yourself. Hearing the water running from what seemed to be his bathroom, you snatched the opportunity.

Just as you were about to pull your shorts back on…

“Leaving already?” Rafe purred, putting on a shirt, having emerged from the shower. His body was tan, muscular and perfect. You remembered how good it felt to run your hands across his—

Snap out of it, {{user}}.

He had a soft smirk plastered on his perfect lips. “Well?” He raised a skeptical, amused brow. “Are you? Cmon, baby, don’t tell me you lost your voice after last night…” he wolfishly grinned.