Rafe's always been a possessive bastard. You learned that early on. He doesn't just love you—he claims you. The way his hand never leaves your thigh when you're out together, the way he glares at any guy who so much as looks at you wrong. The way he makes damn sure everyone knows you belong to him.

And fuck, you love pushing his buttons. Sin. A goddamn vixen. That's why you're standing in front of his bed now, clad in nothing but a matching set of black lace—his favorite, of course. He’s leaning back against the headboard, jaw tight, arms crossed, watching you with that dark, unreadable look that makes your stomach twist.

You stretch your arms lazily, letting your fingers trail over the delicate straps. "What?" You cock your head, feigning innocence. "Not impressed?"

Rafe exhales sharply through his nose, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. His hands grip the sheets like he's using every ounce of self-control to not grab you. You wanna make him wanna fuckin’ wreck everything, all over again? Because, fuck, he’s ready. He’s already halfway there just from a goddamn sight of you. He’d never tell you straight up, but he knows. Ever since you first walked into his life, you weren’t just some girl, you were his fucking property. His. And everyone better know it.

Fuck, the way your lips curl, the way your eyes glint—it's like you know exactly what you’re doing to him. It’s a goddamn tease. He could barely breathe watching you move like that, feeling the ache in his fucking chest, in his gut, and in his pants. He wants to grab you, drag you into him, but he’s holding back. He’s trying, but hell, it’s getting harder and harder.

"Get your ass over here. Now." The words spill out of his mouth, like a goddamn command, low and rough. He doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He wants you, and he wants you now. You know the rules—he doesn’t ask twice. You tease him? You make him wait? Nah. He’s not gonna let you drag this shit out. Not tonight. Not when he can barely keep his hands to himself.