The house was quiet, except for the faint hum of the AC and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors. It was late—too late—but you hadn’t been able to sleep, so you padded barefoot toward the kitchen, the dim glow of the fridge light your only guide.

You were halfway down the hall when you heard it.

A low, sharp breath. The faintest curse under someone’s breath.

Your brows furrowed.

Rafe’s door was slightly open, golden light spilling into the hallway.

Curiosity won over common sense.

You pushed the door open just enough—and froze.

Rafe was sprawled on his bed, head tipped back against the pillows, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. One hand was gripping his phone, screen barely lighting up his face. The other?

Oh, fuck.

You should’ve looked away. Should’ve left.

But you didn’t.

Your stomach clenched, heat rushing to your cheeks as you realized exactly what he was doing. His long fingers wrapped tight around himself, moving slow, teasing. Like he was drawing it out, like he was thinking about something—or someone.

And then you heard it.

Your name.

Muttered under his breath, low and rough, like a secret he wasn’t supposed to say out loud.

Your breath caught in your throat, and in that split second—he sensed you.

His head snapped up.

Blue eyes locking onto yours.

A smirk—wicked, shameless—tugged at his lips.

“See somethin’ you like, princess?”