The night had a pulse of its own, the steady thrum of bass from the party vibrating through Tannyhill. You weren’t sure why you’d come, knowing full well what—or rather, who—awaited you here. But something about Rafe Cameron always pulled you in, no matter how much you swore to yourself it was the last time.

He found you before you could slip away unnoticed, his tall frame cutting through the crowd effortlessly. His eyes locked on you, sharp and possessive, the corners of his lips lifting into a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Leaving already?” His voice was low, just for you, as he crowded into your space.

You hesitated, and that was all the invitation Rafe needed. He wrapped a hand around your wrist—not tight, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.

“I don’t know why you keep coming back if you don’t want me around,” he said, his voice almost casual, but his eyes told a different story. “But I’m glad you do. Because I’m not done with you.”

His words should’ve made you turn and run, but instead, they rooted you to the spot. There was a dark allure to him, something about the way he carried himself like he could take anything he wanted.

“Take what I want when I wanna,” he murmured, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “And I want you. You’re bad for me, you know that?”

You tried to pull away, but he only chuckled, his fingers brushing along your arm as if he knew the effect he had on you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, his tone dropping. “You’re my strange addiction, {{user}}. The kind I can’t quit, even if it’s killing me.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you hated how much his words made your pulse quicken. Rafe was chaos, the kind that burned everything in its path.

“You know it, too,” he continued, his voice softening just enough to make you shiver. “We’re bad news, you and me. One of us is gonna lose. But I’m the powder, and you’re the fuse. We just need a little friction.”