The front door shut with a soft click behind you. The quiet hum of the city outside was sealed off, leaving only the low rhythm of your heels hitting the hardwood and the echo of a shared laugh from the elevator ride up. The night had been electric—good food, dim lighting, your hand resting on Rafe’s thigh under the table—and now, finally, you were alone.

Rafe dropped the keys in the bowl by the door but didn’t move any further. His eyes were already on you. Slow. Heated.

You turned, raising an eyebrow, smirking like you hadn’t just been teasing him for hours. “You’ve been staring at me all night.”

“I know,” he said, voice thick. “Couldn’t stop.”

You walked toward the kitchen, pretending to be unbothered, but your pulse was already quickening under your skin. He followed, his steps heavy, deliberate.

“I wore this dress for you,” you said casually, leaning against the counter, knowing damn well what you were doing.

“I know,” he murmured, stopping in front of you, hands braced on either side of the counter. You were caged in now, breath caught somewhere between control and surrender.

“I saw the way you looked at me in the restaurant,” you added softly. “Saw the way your jaw tensed every time I crossed my legs.”

Rafe’s lips curled into something primal, noticing your pensive expression. “Mm-hmm. God, it took every fiber of my being to not just take you right then and there.”

“Then take me now.”

He leaned in, brushing his nose against your cheek. His voice dropped, lower now. Hungrier. “Where?” He asked, almost urgently. “On the couch, in the bed, kitchen counter or stairs—wherever you want it, baby, I’m taking you there.“

You inhaled sharply, the heat in your stomach now a full flame.

“And what if I want it…” you whispered, trailing your fingers up his chest, “everywhere?”

His hand slid up your thigh so fast it made you gasp. “Then, baby,” he growled, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter, “let’s get this off.”

He reached for the zipper of your dress.