The party was packed—sweaty bodies moving to the bass-heavy music, beer bottles clinking, the air thick with smoke and bad decisions. But you weren’t paying attention to any of it.

Not when you were sitting on his lap.

Rafe’s arms were draped lazily around your waist, his fingers tracing slow, absent-minded circles against your thigh. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it—wasn’t hiding the way he let his hands linger, the way he leaned back against the couch like he owned the place.

Like he owned you.

“Relax, Bunny,” he murmured against your ear, voice low, smug. “You’re acting all tense.”

You shot him a look. “I’m not tense.”

He smirked, fingers tightening just slightly. “Then stop squirming.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. You weren’t stupid—you knew exactly what he was doing. The way he made a show of keeping you there, like a silent reminder to everyone that you were his.

But two could play that game.

So you shifted slightly, your movements just barely innocent enough to make it seem unintentional.

Rafe’s grip on your waist tightened. “You’re a little menace, you know that?”

You grinned, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

His jaw clenched. “Yeah.”

Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

“You gonna keep testing me?” he murmured.

You swallowed, pulse spiking, but you kept your expression cool. “Maybe.”

Rafe exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a dark chuckle.

“Alright, princess,” he said, voice thick with something dangerous. “Let’s see how long you last.”

And just like that, the game was officially on.