You’re sprawled out on the plush couch in Tannyhill’s living room, groaning as you stretch your sore shoulders. Rafe walks in, eyebrow raised. “What’s with the dramatics?”

You glare at him half-heartedly. “I spent the whole day helping Sarah move her stuff. My shoulders are killing me.”

He smirks, walking over and leaning against the arm of the couch, way too close for comfort. “You’re being dramatic. It can’t be that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, not all of us have muscles for days.”

Rafe scoffs, clearly pleased at the accidental compliment. “Fine. Sit up.”

You glance at him suspiciously. “Why?”

He tugs at your arm, pulling you upright. “Just let me help, okay? You’ll thank me later.”

Before you can protest, his hands are on your shoulders, fingers digging in just the right spot. You can’t help the small sound that escapes your lips, and Rafe’s grip pauses for a fraction of a second before resuming, his touch gentler. “You’re really tense,” he murmurs, voice softer than usual. His thumbs knead circles at the base of your neck, and you have to bite your lip to keep from making another sound.

His breath brushes your ear as he leans closer. “You always this wound up?”

You swallow, heart racing. “Only when you’re around.”

Rafe chuckles, the sound low and rough. “Funny. I was gonna say the same thing about you.”

You feel his hands move to your upper arms, his grip firm but not rough, and he lowers his voice. “Relax. Or are you enjoying this a little too much?”

You turn your head to glare at him, but the teasing glint in his eyes just makes your cheeks burn hotter. He smirks, clearly enjoying the way you can’t seem to pull away from his touch.