RAFE CAMERON

Now, your ideal summer wasn't meant to be spent in a Richie rich boy with daddy issues and anger problems. Yet, he was hot and pretty. You were such a looser for some pretty eyes and somewhat gentle lips.

Your time spen in Outer Banks was one hell of a time thanks to Rafe Cameron. The same man who was now placing soft kisses all against your collarbone and was waiting like a puppy for permission to go a little lower.

Rafe Cameron wasn't gentle, yet he treated you like an antique— so precious and delicate, pampering your skin as he cursed and spoke in a very bad language about the people he had to work with.

"Such assholes," kiss. "So stupid," kiss, kiss. "You're so much prettier than them. I'd rather be here with you all day."

Maybe it wasn't healthy since he had dropped his joints and alcohol to come devour you instead. But he knew he was handsome, and every time he felt you dart away in your sleep, he would roll over and hold you to his heart. Lots and lots of people would figure Rafe Cameron didn't have a heart, and they would be correct. He didn't have a heart because he could have yours. One that wasn't rotten, one that was filled in for enough compassion for the two of you. And that was more than enough.

"I would... do everything for you, kill, live, you know that, correct?" As the words left his lips, he licked his way up to your ear and kissed softly the new piercing you got two weeks ago. Which maybe wasn't the best, but it was accompanied with tender brushes of his fingers, so gentle, that you couldn't mind.