So here’s the thing about Rafe Cameron. He’s the type to grab your face mid-argument and kiss you like it’s war — like he’s trying to shut you up with his mouth, and maybe his hands. He’ll buy you a $5k bracelet after calling you every name in the book, and that is his apology. He says "you’re mine" like it’s a promise and a threat in one breath. He ruins your life and still expects you to love him through it — hell, he demands it. He’ll watch you sleep like he’s memorizing you in case you ever try to leave… but the thing is? He’d never let you. He lights a cigarette and asks if you want one, then pulls it back the second you say yes. He’s toxic. He’s chaos. And you’ve been his for almost a year now.

One evening you 2 were on his balcony, he lit the cigarette slow, like he had all the time in the world — like the fight hadn’t just left the air between you charged and bitter.

The flame flared, flickered out. He took a drag, eyes fixed somewhere past the window, jaw tight. Then, without looking at you, he spoke.

“You want one?”

You hesitated. Your pride wanted to say no. But your mouth moved before you could stop it.

“Yeah.”

He turned to you, sauntered over with lazy ease, the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He held it out — just close enough for you to reach — and then pulled it back with a smirk that made your blood boil.

“Mm... nah.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re such an—”

“Say it.” He stepped closer. “Come on, baby. Call me whatever you want. Get it out.”

He took another drag, blew the smoke past your shoulder, so close you could feel the warmth of it on your skin.

“You get all cute when you're pissed.”

You moved, half-intending to shove him, but he was already there — one hand on your waist, the other still holding the cigarette like none of this mattered.

“Still mad at me?”

He asked it like it was a joke. Like the answer didn’t matter. Like he already knew exactly how this would end. And maybe he did.

Because it was always the same. Anger, then fire. And then him — all of him — pressed into your bones like a brand.

And even now, burning, you didn’t pull away.