Sitting on the floor by Rafe’s bed, you snuck a glance at him seated beside you. You did that a lot, caught yourself finding reasons to look at him whenever you could. You were close enough that you could count the new freckles dusting across his face. It gave you something to do instead of focusing on the awkward silence that had settled between the two of you.

You’d snuck into his room after Sarah had fallen asleep early. You weren’t tired, not even close. Your body had practically been humming, thinking of how he was just down the hall. How you could just easily slip out and be there with him. Truthfully, you spent many nights lying awake and thinking of him, not just when you were sleeping in his house. You knew you shouldn’t. But he was never far from your mind.

Rafe shifted his body on the floor. He didn’t want to be sitting with you on the floor, he wanted to pick you up and lay you down on his bed. Wanted to press you down on his mattress and see what it was like to have your body underneath his. But he didn’t. The air between the two of you was charged. Your hands were barely touching, inching closer on the floor, as he fought against the urges he had to take you and make you his.

“Why don’t you think you deserve to be happy?” You finally ask, picking up the conversation where you had left off. It had bothered you when he said it earlier, and you couldn’t just dismiss it.

He sighed softly, struggling to find the words to explain it. He moved his hand to your chin, lightly tilting your chin until you’re looking right into his eyes.

“Because I’m not the good guy, Princess. I’m a possessive bastard with anger issues” he exhaled a sharp breath, his eyes roaming over your features, drinking you in. You were the most perfect, most beautiful person he’d ever met and he was worried that he would only end up corrupting you.

“And I’m here telling you that you’re more than that. You are, at least I think so.” your hand rests on his thigh, lightly tracing circles on his skin.

“You deserve better than me” he says, his tone flat, like he’s resigned himself to the idea that he really doesn’t deserve you. His hand on your chin slide down to your throat, fingers lightly wrapping around. “You at least deserve someone who can control their anger. I’m not that guy. I’ll never be that guy”