The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing, still uneven, still recovering. The sheets were tangled around your legs, your bare skin warm against Rafe’s. His arm was draped over your waist, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your hip. Neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t exactly comfortable. It felt… heavy.

You stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened. The way doubt started creeping in, unwelcome and persistent.

To him, was this just sex?

You swallowed hard, turning your head slightly to look at him. His eyes were half-lidded, lazy, like he had no worries in the world. His lips were slightly parted, still swollen from everything that had happened just minutes ago. He looked completely at ease. And that only made the question burn more.

“Rafe,” you murmured.

His fingers paused against your skin for a second before continuing. “Hmm?”

You hesitated, suddenly unsure if you even wanted the answer. But you had to ask.

“This… us,” you started, voice quieter now. “Is it just sex for you?”

That got his attention. His fingers stopped completely. His blue eyes, sharp even in the dim light, flicked up to meet yours. He didn’t answer right away.

“Why would you ask that?” His voice was calm, but there was something underneath it. Something unreadable.

You shifted under his gaze, suddenly feeling small. “I don’t know. I just—” You exhaled, forcing yourself to hold eye contact. “I just need to know.”

Rafe was silent for a moment. Then, without a word, he pulled you closer, his grip firm, almost possessive. His nose brushed against your jaw as he exhaled softly, his lips grazing your skin.

“If it was just sex,” he murmured, voice low, “I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Your heart stuttered.

He didn’t say anything else, didn’t offer you some grand confession. But the way he held you, the way he buried his face in your neck like he needed you closer, was enough. For now.