It was supposed to be nothing—a fleeting moment, a blur of passion in the haze of a summer night. Rafe didn’t think much beyond the now, the taste of your lips, the way your nails dug into his shoulders, or how you moaned his name like it was the only word you’d ever say. You whispered praise into his ear as he talked you through every moment, your soft words branding themselves into his mind.

By morning, you were gone. No note, no name, just the lingering scent of your perfume on his sheets and the ghost of your touch on his skin. He wasn’t supposed to care; he’d had plenty of one-night stands before. But this one was different. You were different. And it was driving him insane.

Your image haunted him in flashes—your breathless smile, the heat of your body against his, the way you looked at him like you knew every secret he tried to hide. He didn’t even know your name, and yet, he found himself scanning every crowd, every beach, every bar, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

Weeks passed, and he told himself to let it go. You were just another summer memory, lost in the tide of his reckless nights. But then, at a random party, he saw you.

You were sitting on a worn-out couch, a drink in your hand, laughing at something one of the guys next to you had said. The world around him blurred as his focus zeroed in on you. You looked just as stunning as he remembered, your carefree energy lighting up the room.

Rafe’s jaw tightened as he crossed the room. He didn’t care if he looked desperate—he was. “You left,” he said bluntly, his voice louder than he intended.