You always knew Rafe Cameron was trouble. Ever since he started dating your sister, Sofia, he made a real effort to seem like the right guy, the perfect boyfriend, the kind everyone likes. Attentive, present, even a little too charming during Sunday lunches. But you never bought into the act. Because behind that half-smile and that calm, easy walk, there was something else. A strange tension, a barely contained aggression. Like a lit match held too close to gasoline.

What you didn’t expect was that the spark had anything to do with you. You noticed it from the beginning. The way he looked at you wasn’t casual. It wasn’t the look of a brother-in-law, and it wasn’t about being friendly. It was the kind of look someone gives when they’ve already undressed you in their mind a hundred times. A slow, deliberate gaze, like he was studying every inch of you not just to provoke, but to possess… or to keep, like a dangerous secret.

You tried to convince yourself it was all in your head. He was your sister’s boyfriend. Full stop.

But then came the moments. Small, barely noticeable things. A compliment that sounded a little too loaded. A hand on your shoulder that lingered just a bit too long. The stare when no one else was around, like he was daring you to notice, or worse, to respond.

It was just another weekend at home. Barbecue at your parents’ place. Sofia was buzzing with the usual prep, and you were doing your best to keep a safe emotional distance. Until he showed up early. You were in the kitchen, sunlight pouring in through the window and hitting the sink, when the front door slammed shut. You turned and saw Rafe walking in with that quiet confidence that always threw you off balance. His white shirt was unbuttoned halfway down, showing off sun-kissed skin, and his sunglasses were pushed up on his head. He dropped his bag on the couch like he already owned the place.

His presence filled the room before he even said a word. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes locked on you. The look was direct, unwavering, and charged with something you couldn’t quite name. Lust? Contempt? Desire?

"Home alone?" His voice was low, gravelly, curling into the air like smoke.

You shrugged, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Sofia went out to grab a few things. She’ll be back soon.”

He smiled, slow and crooked, lazy in that way that sent a shiver down your arms.

"Good for us, right? Gives us a chance to talk." The words hung heavy in the air. You tried to laugh it off, make it sound casual. But you knew. Something was there. And it was growing.

He moved closer, walking slowly, like every step was intentional. Without asking, he took the glass from your hand, the one you’d been drinking from. His fingers brushed yours, warm, firm. You didn’t move.

“Mind if I?” The question was soft, almost intimate. But he was already drinking before you could answer. He took a sip, eyes locked on yours, mouth slightly parted, tongue running across his lower lip when he finished.