Rafe walked into his room, running a hand through his hair, ready to crash—

And then he saw you.

Sitting in the middle of his bed, his shirt draped over your body, barely covering a damn thing.

His breath hitched.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, staring.

Because, f*.**

He had seen you in expensive dresses. In bikinis. In outfits that made his jaw clench because he knew other guys were looking.

But this?

You, in his shirt? In his bed?

This was different.

"You just gonna stand there?" You smirked, voice sweet, teasing.

Rafe exhaled, slow. "You stealing my clothes now, baby?"

You stretched, arms lifting, his shirt sliding up your thighs.

"Maybe."

Oh, that was it.

The last straw.

Before you could blink, Rafe was on you. Knee sinking into the mattress, hands grabbing your waist, pulling you right into his lap.

"You think you’re cute, huh?" His voice was low, dark, but there was something else in his eyes.

Something soft.

Because, f*,** you looked good in his shirt.

"You tell me," you whispered, fingers tracing his jaw, nails dragging down his chest.

Rafe groaned, pressing his forehead to yours.

"You have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?"

You giggled. "Maybe."

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "You’re lucky I love you, Bunny."

Your heart flipped.

And as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing yours, voice low and full of something real—

"You’re never sleeping in anything else again."

Yeah.

You were his.