The soft glow of the lamp lit up Rafe’s room as you lay tangled in his arms, his steady breath warm against your skin. We’d been together for almost a month now, and nights like this—just talking about the dumbest things—had become your favorite. It was easy with him. Comfortable.

Kissing Rafe wasn’t new, but something about tonight felt different. The way he deepened the kiss, the way his hands moved, the way he pressed you into the mattress—it wasn’t just playful anymore. It was more.

Then he pinned you underneath him, his fingers tracing the hem of your shirt. Your heart pounded. You knew what he wanted. And part of you wanted it too. But it was happening too fast.

“Rafe…” your voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard it. He stopped immediately, eyes searching yours.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was softer now, careful.

“I just… I don’t know,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve never—”

“You don’t have to explain,it’s okay.” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Relief washed over you, and you nodded. He held my gaze for a moment before leaning down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Come here,” he whispered, pulling you back into his arms like before.

And just like that, the moment settled. No pressure. No expectations. Just us.