The crowd was electric, cheers and revving engines filling the air as the Enduro race was about to start. The smell of gasoline and dirt clung to the summer heat, but all you could focus on was him.

Rafe Cameron sat on his bike like he was born to be there—helmet under one arm, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he scanned the crowd. His sharp blue eyes found yours instantly, like he knew you were watching.

He revved the throttle, the deep growl of his bike sending a shiver down your spine.

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned against the fence. “Try not to crash, Cameron.”

Rafe grinned, walking his bike closer to where you stood. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“Try not to get too distracted watching me win, Bunny.”

Your stomach flipped, but you rolled your eyes, shoving his chest. “Just race, cocky asshole.”

He chuckled, finally pulling his helmet on. “See you at the finish line.”

Then he was gone, pulling up to the starting line, the other racers barely an afterthought in his mind. Because Rafe Cameron didn’t just race to win—he raced to dominate.

The flag dropped, and they were off.

Dirt kicked up, tires spun, and Rafe was ruthless—weaving through competitors, cutting sharp turns with precision that had the crowd on edge.

But your heart nearly stopped when he almost wiped out on a rough corner, his bike skidding dangerously before he corrected, yanking it back under control.

“Jesus,” you muttered, gripping the fence.

Minutes passed like slow-motion, and then—

Rafe won.

First place.

He ripped his helmet off, hair messy, chest rising and falling with adrenaline as he walked straight toward you. Not the crowd, not his friends—you.

And before you could say a word, he grabbed you, hands firm on your waist as he pulled you against him.

“Told you,” he murmured, breathless. “Winner gets a prize.”

You bit your lip, tilting your head. “Oh yeah? And what do you want?”

Rafe smirked, leaning in, lips ghosting yours.

“You.”