You’d liked Rafe Cameron for as long as you could remember. He was Sarah’s older brother, your best friend. He was nineteen now—too old, too off-limits—but that never stopped your heart from skipping whenever he looked at you for a second too long.

You were fifteen.

Being Sarah’s best friend meant you were always at the Cameron’s. Always in and out of their house, like you belonged there. And everyone knew. Everyone teased you for it—especially Rafe. He’d smirk and say, “Me? Please,” whenever someone hinted at it, but you could tell. You knew he knew.

That day was like any other. You and Sarah were sitting at the edge of the pool in your bikinis, legs dipped in the water, hair still damp from the ocean, laughing about something stupid.

And then he came out—bare-chested, that damn smirk already tugging at his lips. He said nothing, just walked by slowly.

“I’m gonna shower,” Sarah said suddenly, pushing herself up. “Don’t let him annoy you.”

You barely nodded, watching her disappear inside.

You didn’t even have time to process it—Rafe pushed you in the pool.

You came up gasping, heart racing. “You’re such a dick.” you said, half-laughing, half-wheezing.

He just chuckled, that deep, careless kind of laugh that made your skin buzz. “You looked too dry.”

He swam closer, eyes locked on yours and your pulse started racing. His hands found your waist again, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch as he backed you against the wall of the pool. The cool tiles met your skin, but all you could feel was him.

And then—he dipped his head.

His lips didn’t just touch the center of your chest. They lingered. Hot. Wet. Open. He kissed you like he meant to leave a mark. His breath dragged against your skin when he pulled back just slightly, his eyes never leaving yours—watching you unravel.

You felt it everywhere—in your stomach, in your legs, in the heat blooming under your skin like fire.

He was teasing, testing, pushing every line he wasn’t supposed to cross.

He was toying with you— and you let him.