It all started last month.

Everyone knew not to get involved with Rafe Cameron. I mean, he’s a Cameron, after all, right? He had a history of killing people and all that stuff. Everyone respected him out of fear, of course.

He was there. At every party, looking at you, waiting for you. Every time you got drunk, you ended up in his bed.

And now, you were slowly waking up, feeling his strong arms wrapped around your waist, your back pressed against his chest. You didn’t even have to look at him to know it was Rafe. It couldn't be anyone else.

You ended up next to him. Again.

He felt you move, groaning, and a shiver ran down your spine.

"Hey," you said, turning until you were facing him, your faces only inches apart.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he replied.

How does he sound so hot when he just woke up?

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, and whispered in your ear, "You know, you really shouldn't be moving so much in the morning, sweetheart."