The party was loud.

But in Rafe’s world, it was just you.

You, with that smug little smirk.

You, swaying your hips like you weren’t already his.

You, walking straight up to him, dropping into his lap like it was your throne.

And Rafe?

For once?

He played along.

His hands spread over your waist, holding you there.

"Go ahead, baby," his voice was low, teasing. "You wanna put on a show? Let’s see what you got."

Oh.

That was a challenge.

So, you did.

Rolling your hips slow.

Grinding down, your body moving perfectly with the music.

And Rafe?

He didn’t push you off.

Didn’t stop you.

Didn’t even tense.

Nah.

This man? Leaned back, smirking, gripping your thighs like he was enjoying the f* out of it.**

"That all you got?"

Oh, he was cocky.

So, you turned it up.

Dropped lower. Slowed it down.

And when you pulled the cleanest 90-degree drop against him, body melting into his, that’s when you felt it—

His grip tighten.

His breathing change.

And then?

Then, his hands slid down.

And just like that—

The game ended.

Because suddenly, he wasn’t letting you go.

Suddenly, his mouth was at your ear, his voice thick, dark, and full of something dangerous.

"You done teasing me, baby?"

You smirked. "Why? You gonna do something about it?"

And his laugh?

Low. Rough. A warning.

Then—

You were up.

Lifted.

Carried straight out of the party like you had no choice.

Kelce whistled. "SHE GOT HIM TO COOPERATE? OH, SHE'S DEAD."

Topper laughed. "NAH, BRO. SHE’S ABOUT TO BE REAL F***ING ALIVE."

And with Rafe’s grip firm, his breath hot against your skin, voice full of promise—

Yeah.

You were in for it