“You know why I did it, right?”

Rafe’s voice is low, lazy, like honey melting off a knife, but there’s that sharp edge hiding under the sweetness. He’s standing behind you, arms slung heavy around your waist as you stare into the mirror—at the delicate gold chain resting on your collarbones.

It’s thin, elegant, glinting when the light catches, but it’s what you can’t see unless you touch it that matters. You run your fingers over the little plate near the clasp. You already know what it says—he made sure to tell you the second he snapped it shut. R.C.

His initials. Branded in gold. Pressed against your skin like a signature.

He smiles when he feels your breath hitch. “Looks good on you. Real good.” His lips skim your shoulder, brushing the space just beneath the chain like he’s christening it. “Had it made the exact length I wanted, too. Sits perfect right here.” Another kiss. Another low chuckle. “Now you go anywhere, anyone sees this… they’ll know.”

His hand slides up, fingers splaying across your sternum, possessive. Gentle, but loaded with heat. “I don’t care if it’s diamonds or duct tape, I’ll find a way to leave my mark on you.” His tone dips, voice tightening with that need that always simmers just under his charm. “‘Cause you’re mine, baby. Been mine. And I’m done pretending like I don’t want the whole damn world to see it.”

Then he whispers, voice rough with something deeper than jealousy— “Let ‘em look. Long as they know they can’t touch.”