Rafe Cameron was Sofia’s boyfriend. And you were Sofia’s best friend.

But for the past four months, he’d been sneaking out, lying to her, telling her he was working late when he was really here. In front of your house. In the richer side of Outer Banks.

You watched from your window as his white truck rolled to a slow stop under the streetlight.

Your stomach flipped.

You were already dressed — had been for hours. Hair done, makeup flawless, a dangerously short dress hugging your body in all the right places. You looked like sin itself, and you knew it.

A wine glass dangled between your fingers as you walked downstairs, heels clicking against the floor. Your parents weren’t home — they never were.

You opened the door, already feeling the night’s electricity.

And there he was.

A cigarette between his fingers, leaning against the doorframe, taking in the sight of you like he owned you.

“Hey, you.” he drawled, lips curling into that signature smirk. His eyes were heavy, hungry.

He took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling like he had all the time in the world. “Missed you.”

You tilted your head, leaning against the doorframe, swirling the wine in your glass.

“Yeah?” you murmured, pretending like your heart wasn’t racing. “Then why’d you wait four days to come see me?”

Rafe grinned, stepping closer, his free hand reaching out to brush against your bare thigh.

“Had to keep up the act, baby,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “Can’t have Sofia getting suspicious now, can we?”

Your breath hitched.

You should have felt guilty. You should’ve.

But when Rafe dropped his cigarette, crushing it under his shoe before pushing you inside, mouth already on yours?

Yeah.

Guilt was the last thing on your mind.