Jealousy, jealousy.

You had a hard time trying to control yourself when you got jealous, and Rafe loves it. He loved the way you looked at him when you were jealous—the fire in your eyes burning for him.

Finally fed up, you aggressively flirted with a random guy at a party, flashing occasional glances back at Rafe. His anger festered until he, too, had enough. He wanders up to you, pulling you away with a tug at your arm. “Let’s go.” Giving you no time to argue, he grumbles. “Now.”