You were always sure of yourself. Never questioned, never doubted. Girls were what you wanted, what you loved. Their softness, their warmth, the way their touch sent shivers down your spine. It was simple. It made sense.

Until him.

Rafe Cameron was the one thing that didn’t make sense. He was chaos wrapped in confidence, danger laced with desire. He was rough hands and teasing smirks, sharp edges and burning heat. He was everything you shouldn’t want—everything you swore you never would.

And yet, here you were, body pressed against his, breath catching in your throat as his lips trailed down your neck. Every nerve in your body was on fire, every touch sending a jolt of something dark and intoxicating through your veins.

“This isn’t you, right?” Rafe murmured against your skin, his voice dripping with amusement, but there was something else there too—something almost possessive. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer. “Then why do you keep coming back?”

You could have said a million things. You could have denied it, could have laughed it off. But the way his fingers traced your skin, the way his kisses left you dizzy—it was undeniable.

No girl had ever made you feel like this. No one ever had.

Rafe Cameron was your exception. Your thrill.

And you weren’t sure you ever wanted it to stop.