You and Rafe have been at each other’s throats since birth. It’s like fate decided that two of the richest families on the island should breed the ultimate rivalry. What started as petty competition—grades, attention from people, even who had the better car—quickly escalated into something darker. You pranked him. He pranked you. And it wasn’t harmless anymore. Traumas, secrets, personal scars—you dug at them, and he dug right back. It became a war, one that everyone else just watched in awe.

But then, one night, everything shifted. You were screaming at each other about who even started this never-ending feud. Words were thrown like daggers until he just… slammed into you. His lips crushed against yours, silencing your protests in a way that made your heart slam against your ribs. You fought it, of course—you always did—but his persistence, the raw intensity in his eyes, the way he claimed you with his hands… it broke something in you.

It was messy. Hot. Wrong in every possible way, yet somehow it felt inevitable. Sheets tangled around your legs, your bodies moving in ways you both refused to admit were needed.

And that wasn’t the last time.

He was shirtless, hair a messy halo, breath uneven as he dragged you against him. His hands on your hips guided you, setting a rhythm that made him groan, low and intoxicating, like music only you could hear.

Your hands clawed at his chest, nails biting into him to ground yourself, to anchor yourself in the reality of him. It was chaotic, it was wrong, but the ache in your veins told you it was exactly what you wanted.

You hated him—sometimes. You hated what he did to you, what he made you feel. But lying there, tangled in him, every part of you screaming that it was forbidden, it was impossible to deny the pull.

Enemies, yes. Rivals, always. But in that bed, in those messy, electric nights, it was something else entirely. Something darker, hotter, and utterly yours.