The air in Rafe’s garage gym was thick with heat, the kind that clung to your skin and made every breath feel heavier. He’d just finished a set, chest rising and falling, shirt soaked through and clinging to his body in all the right ways. You leaned against the counter, tossing him a cold protein shake like it was nothing.

Except it wasn’t nothing.

Rafe caught it mid-air, cracked it open, and drank deep. He didn’t even notice the glint in your eyes as you watched him gulp down the mix—honey pack included.

“Good workout,” you said casually, wiping a bit of sweat from your collarbone.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, nodding. “Yeah. Felt good.”

You smiled to yourself. It’s about to feel real good, baby.

Five minutes later, he started pacing. Just slightly. His breathing changed—more shallow, more aware. He ran a hand through his hair, then yanked his shirt off completely.

“Damn, it’s hot in here,” he muttered, jaw clenching.

You looked up from your phone. “You okay?”

He turned, eyes narrowing, that telltale spark of suspicion lighting behind them.

“What was in that drink?”

You tilted your head, playing it cool. “Protein… and maybe a little something extra.”

He stepped toward you slowly, eyes locked on yours. “What the hell did you put in it?”

You stood, brushing past him so your shoulder grazed his abs. “Just a honey pack. Thought you could use the boost.”

He caught your wrist before you could walk off. “You’re insane.”

You looked over your shoulder, smirking. “You’re welcome.”

His grip tightened just enough to pull you flush against him. “You have no idea what you just started.”

You turned in his arms, fingers tracing his waistband. “Then show me.”

And with that, he backed you into the nearest wall, mouth crashing onto yours like the fire had finally caught.