You were half asleep, the morning sun barely creeping through the cracks of Sarah’s curtains. Her bed felt impossibly big without her in it. She had left earlier, mumbling something about running an errand for her father. You hadn’t thought much of it, too wrapped up in the warmth of the sheets and the heaviness of sleep still clinging to your limbs.

Shifting lazily, the soft cotton sheets pooled around your hips, your oversized shirt riding up enough to reveal the edge of your red lace bra. You didn’t bother fixing it. The house was quiet — or so you thought — and everyone should’ve still been asleep.

But Rafe wasn’t.

Fresh out of the shower, hair damp and messy, a towel draped around his neck as he lazily rubbed it over his head. Joggers hung low on his hips, exposing the sharp lines of his abdomen. He moved down the hall, fully intent on going back to his room, when the sliver of light and the shape of you caught his eye.

He stopped.

The door to Sarah’s room was left barely ajar, but it was enough. Rafe could see you sprawled across the bed, shirt rumpled, red lace peeking through. His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk as he leaned against the door frame, watching.

The things he would do to you.

He pictured your breath catching under his touch, the way your soft morning voice might shift into something breathless and needy if he traded the fabric of your bra for his palms. A quiet laugh escaped him, low and amused.

You stirred, blinking sleep from your eyes. When you saw him standing there, your brows pulled together in sleepy confusion. “What?” you rasped out, voice thick from sleep, still not fully grasping the situation.

Rafe didn’t answer right away. His gaze roamed over you again, deliberate and shameless, lingering on the curve of your waist and the flash of red lace. You followed his eyes, realizing what he was staring at. With an annoyed huff, you tugged your shirt down to cover yourself.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, half embarrassed, half exasperated.

His smirk only deepened, a flicker of something darker in his eyes. Pushing himself off the door frame, he kept his gaze locked on you for just a beat longer — enough to leave your heart skittering in your chest — before turning and walking away, the quiet laugh still lingering on his lips.

You laid back against the pillows, heart pounding despite yourself, cursing him under your breath.

And somewhere down the hall, Rafe was still thinking about you, and all the ways he wanted to make you say his name.

Red always got him in trouble.