Moving into the Cameron house was… an adjustment. It wasn’t just the massive house or the constant feeling that you didn’t quite fit into their perfect little world. No, the real problem was Rafe.

Your stepbrother.

From the moment you arrived, it was like he made it his mission to get under your skin. Snarky comments, cocky smirks, and that infuriating habit of acting like he ruled the house. But the worst part? The tension. The kind that wasn’t just about hating each other—but something else, something neither of you wanted to name.

Like now.

You were in the kitchen, reaching for a glass when Rafe strolled in, shirtless, still damp from a shower. He barely spared you a glance before leaning against the counter, watching you with that signature smirk.

“You look comfortable,” he mused, eyeing your oversized sweatshirt. “Must be nice living here rent-free.”

You rolled your eyes, gripping the glass a little tighter. “Must be nice being a spoiled trust fund brat.”

Rafe chuckled, stepping closer, invading your space just enough to make your breath hitch. “You say that like you don’t love it here,” he murmured, eyes flickering over you, daring you to react.

You refused to. Instead, you shoved past him, ignoring the way your heart pounded. “In your dreams, Cameron.”

His voice followed you as you walked away. “Oh, you have no idea, princess.”