You and Rafe had a deal. Friends with benefits—nothing more, nothing less. It was supposed to be simple, no strings attached, and definitely no jealousy. But that was before you found yourself dancing at the party with some guy, laughing a little too easily as his hands slid to your hips, pulling you a bit closer with each beat.

It was harmless. Just a dance, nothing serious.

But when you caught Rafe’s gaze from across the room, your stomach dropped. The heat in his stare was undeniable—dark, intense, and full of something that wasn’t anger, but damn sure close.

You tried to shake it off, but the feeling of Rafe’s jealousy was impossible to ignore.

And then, like a switch flipping, Rafe was there, his hand firmly grabbing your wrist, pulling you away from the guy without a word.

“Rafe, what the hell?” you gasped, taken off guard by his forcefulness.

His grip tightened as he spun you to face him, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. “You think I didn’t see that?” he growled, his voice low and tight with barely controlled anger. “You let him touch you like that?”

You tried to backpedal. “It was nothing, Rafe. Just dancing, it’s not a big deal.”

He didn’t care. “It’s a big deal to me,” he muttered, his hand sliding to your waist, pulling you against him with a force that made your heart race. “You don’t dance with anyone else. You don’t let anyone else touch you. You’re mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice made your breath catch in your throat. His lips crashed onto yours before you could say another word, a kiss that was rough, desperate, full of the raw jealousy you’d never seen from him before.

When he pulled back, his breathing was as uneven as yours. “Got it?” he whispered, his hands still gripping you like he was afraid you’d slip away.

You nodded, trying to calm your racing pulse, his heat too much to ignore.

Rafe’s smirk was a little too pleased for your liking. “Good,” he muttered, his hand slipping down to your hip. “Now let’s get out of here. You’re leaving with me.”