It started with a look. That was all it ever took with Rafe Cameron and {{user}}. A single glance across the room and suddenly every promise she had made to herself shattered like glass on the floor.
He was dating her cousin. Everyone knew it. She knew it better than anyone, because she had been the one to sit on the porch last spring and listen to her cousin gush about the new boy who made her feel alive. {{user}} had smiled, nodded, pretended to be happy for her. But that was before the way his blue eyes lingered on her when no one else was watching. Before the brush of his hand that felt like fire. Before she swore she could hear her own heartbeat thundering whenever he was near.
“Rafe, can you grab me another drink?” her cousin called one night at a bonfire. He nodded, rising to his feet, but his gaze slipped to {{user}} as he passed by. Their eyes met for half a second too long. Her throat tightened. She looked away, but it was too late. That single stare spoke louder than any words.
Later that night she walked toward the house to grab her bag. He was leaning against the doorframe, half in shadow, half in light. “You avoiding me?” he asked. His voice was low, teasing, but there was something sharp beneath it.
“I’m not doing this with you,” she whispered. She hated how weak it sounded.
“Doing what?” he pressed, stepping closer. “I just asked a question.”
“You know what I mean,” she said. Her chest rose and fell too fast. He was so close now that the scent of salt and smoke clung to him.
He tilted his head. “You think about me. Don’t lie.”
Her silence gave her away. He smiled, wicked and knowing, before leaning in until his lips hovered just above hers. “One kiss. That’s all.”
She should have pushed him back. She should have walked away. Instead her mouth met his in a crash that stole every ounce of reason from her body. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer, and the taste of danger was sweeter than any kiss she had ever known.
After that there was no going back. They found stolen moments in the quiet of the night. A locked bathroom at a party. The backseat of his car when her cousin was inside talking to friends. A whispered promise against her ear when no one else could hear. Each time she swore it was the last. Each time she came back for more.
“You drive me crazy,” he muttered one night, pressing her against the wall of his room. “Do you know that?”
She bit her lip, torn between guilt and need. “This is wrong, Rafe.”
“Maybe,” he breathed, kissing her harder. “But it feels right.”
The secrecy made it intoxicating. Every smile across the table, every hidden touch under the cover of night, it was all laced with danger. She could not decide if it was love or just obsession, but whatever it was, it consumed her.
Her cousin noticed nothing, or maybe she refused to. She would chatter about how sweet Rafe had been that day while {{user}} sat there, nodding, every nerve screaming with guilt. It should have been enough to stop her. It never was.
One night, when the summer storm rolled in, {{user}} stood by the window in Rafe’s room, rain pounding against the glass. He touched her shoulder, his voice rough. “Say you want me to stop and I will.”
She turned, eyes burning with tears and fire. “I can’t.”
And that was the truth. She could not stop. The kisses that killed her with guilt also kept her alive in ways she never imagined. The forbidden affair was poison, but it was also the sweetest addiction she had ever tasted.
So she stayed. Even knowing the ending would destroy them all, she stayed, because walking away from him felt impossible.
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