She couldn’t believe she was standing there with him, {{user}} staring at Rafe Cameron like a complete idiot. He leaned against the railing, that cocky smirk plastered on his face, and she felt her heart thumping like a goddamn drum. “You seriously think you can just walk in here and say whatever the hell you want?” she asked, trying to sound tough, but her voice cracked anyway. Rafe didn’t answer right away. He just tilted his head, those piercing eyes making her knees wobble.

“Maybe I can,” he said, and that was it. That fucking tone, like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he had all the control in the world. And then, without warning, his hand brushed against her thigh, light at first, testing, and she froze mid-sentence. Her words caught in her throat, her cheeks burning like fire. “Rafe,” she whispered, trying to move away, but he didn’t. His fingers trailed slowly, deliberately, up her thigh while she struggled to speak.

“Hey, calm the fuck down,” he murmured, voice low, teasing. He knew what he was doing. He knew exactly how to make her stutter. And it worked. “I-I’m n-not—” she choked, trying to finish a sentence but failing miserably. Rafe just chuckled, that goddamn laugh that made her want to rip her hair out and pull him closer at the same time. “Shhh, just listen to me,” he said, and his hand moved slightly higher. She felt dizzy, lost in the sensation, her body betraying her brain.

“Stop it, Rafe!” she hissed, trying to yank herself away. But he leaned in, brushing his lips close to her ear, his breath warm and dangerous. “Why the fuck would I stop when you sound like that?” he whispered. She groaned, pushing him lightly, but he was stronger, more persistent, and holy shit he knew exactly how to push her buttons. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, but she couldn’t help the little shiver that ran down her spine.

He grinned, wicked, like a kid who knew he was winning a game he’d made up just for her. “Impossible? Nah, you’re just hot as fuck when you get all flustered.” His fingers didn’t stop, tracing patterns that made her bite her lip to keep from moaning. “Rafe,” she gasped, her voice shaky, “people are gonna—” and he just laughed, cutting her off. “Fuck everyone else. Right now it’s just you and me. And you? You’re killing me.”

She wanted to scream, wanted to push him, wanted to run, but every inch of her body was glued to his, reacting to his every touch. “Goddamn it, {{user}}, why do you have to be so stubborn?” he teased, leaning closer, letting her feel his heat. She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t think. All she could do was tremble, stuttering out fragments of words that didn’t make sense. “You’re—fuck—driving me insane,” she whispered, and he smiled, satisfied.

“Damn right I am,” Rafe said, grinning like a motherfucker, fingers still wandering, eyes locked on hers. She swore she could feel her heart in her throat, her knees weak, her brain fried. And somehow, she knew this wasn’t over. This was just the beginning of something messy, hot, and completely fucked up, and she didn’t even care. She wanted more, and deep down, she knew Rafe wanted the same thing.

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