Rafe had always been surrounded by people who wanted something from him—his money, his connections, his name. But with you, it was different.

It was late at night, and the two of you were sitting on the hood of his truck, parked by the beach. The moonlight shimmered over the waves, and the salty breeze played with your hair as you leaned into him. Rafe, usually so guarded, looked at you with something raw in his eyes.

“Why do you love me?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter than usual.

You turned to face him, frowning. “What kind of question is that?”

He swallowed hard, looking away. “I just… I know I can be a lot. And I know I have money, and sometimes I wonder if—”

“Stop.” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly. “I don’t want your money, Rafe. I want you. The real you. The one who holds my hand like this, the one who makes me laugh when I’ve had a bad day, the one who’s trying so damn hard to be better.”

His jaw clenched, and for a second, he just stared at you—then, without a word, he pulled you into a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow, deep, and full of something he wasn’t used to giving: trust.

For the first time in his life, Rafe Cameron knew—he didn’t have to prove anything. With you, he was enough.