♫ 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞—𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐧𝐝

JJ Maybank is everything a girl could want. He’s golden retriever—sunlight in human form, all laughter and warmth, the kind of boyfriend who kisses your forehead just because he can, who texts you good morning with way too many emojis. He loves you with his whole damn heart, and everyone knows it. Your friends tell you all the time: JJ’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, he is the one, his love for you is true. And you know they’re right. But none of that stops you from answering when Rafe Cameron calls.

It started as a mistake. One you swore you wouldn’t make twice. But Rafe has this pull, this godforsaken gravity that keeps dragging you back. He’s a hurricane wrapped in cashmere, volatile and intoxicating, and you know better—but your body doesn’t. He’s nothing like JJ. JJ kisses you like you’re delicate. Rafe kisses you like he’s starving. JJ holds your hand in public. Rafe grips your throat in the dark. JJ makes you laugh until you can’t breathe. Rafe makes you cry and then makes you forget why you were crying in the first place. You know it’s wrong, you do, but God help you, you still let him ruin you.

And now, at a party you came to with JJ, Rafe is ruining you all over again.

It happens too fast. One second, you’re waiting for JJ to bring you a drink, and the next, a strong hand yanks you into the dim hallway. His mouth crashes onto yours like he’s been waiting for this. And maybe he has. You’re breathless when you pull away, but he doesn’t let you go.

"Does he know you call me when he sleeps?" His voice is low, taunting, thumb swiping your bottom lip.

Your stomach tightens. "Rafe—"

"Does he know the pictures that you keep?" A smirk form on his lips as his fingers trail up your waist, slow, knowing.

"Stop," you whisper, but your body betrays you, pressing closer, aching for more.

"Does he know where your heart lies? Where it truly lies?"

You don’t answer. You don’t have to, because his mouth crashes on yours again and you let him kiss you, again.