"You trust me?”

That’s the only warning you get before Rafe grabs your wrist and pulls you into the shadows, his grip firm but exhilarating. You can feel his pulse under his skin — quick and electric — like the thrill of sneaking around is just as intoxicating as the thought of being caught.

The Figure 8 country club is dark and silent at this hour, the pristine pool glowing under the moonlight. You glance around, half-expecting security, but Rafe? He’s already stepping up to the gate, picking the lock with an ease that makes you wonder how many times he’s done this before.

When the lock clicks open, he flashes you a wicked grin. “After you, princess.”

The water is crystal blue, eerily still until Rafe kicks off his shoes and strips off his shirt, tossing it to the side before diving in without a second thought. He resurfaces a second later, hair slicked back, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“What? You scared?”

You roll your eyes, but just as you start untying your dress. Rafe lunges, grabbing your wrist and pulling you in with him. You hit the water with a scream, the cold instantly shocking your system, but when you come up for air, all you hear is Rafe’s deep, amused laughter.

And then, before you can retaliate, he’s swimming toward you, backing you against the pool wall. His hands find your waist, fingers pressing into wet fabric, his eyes dark and dangerous in the dim light.

“Still mad at me?” he murmurs, voice low.

But before you can answer, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours, slow and teasing at first, but then he’s kissing you like he needs it, like he needs you.

And in that moment, you know. You’d break into a thousand places with him if it always felt like this.