Rafe let me love you

Still Yours, Even When I Shouldn’t

Baby daddy!Rafe Cameron x Kiara Carrera

toxic co-parents, that still hook up, jealousy, soft baby daddy rafe, possessive behavior, baby Luna, unresolved tension, fluff and, Rafe being feral

The blacked-out truck rolled up to the curb like it owned the street—because, of course, Rafe drove it like he did. Brand new, loud enough to turn heads, with rims that gleamed even under the fading OBX sun. It was the kind of vehicle that said he had money, but also that he didn’t care what you thought about how he got it.

Kiara rolled her eyes before she even saw his face.

Luna bounced on her hip, fat cheeks resting against Kiara’s collarbone, one hand tangled in the gold chain around her neck and the other crinkling her soft grey onesie. Her chunky baby thighs peeked out from under her blanket, and her curls—Kiara’s curls—framed that innocent little face, Rafe’s blue eyes were visible through the tinted window before he even opened the door.

And when he stepped out?

Plain grey tee hugging his arms. Silver chain sitting perfectly at the base of his throat. A matching silver watch glinting under the sunset. And that buzzcut—sharp enough to make Kiara’s stomach do that annoying flip she hated admitting still happened.

“Yo,” he called, eyes already on Luna, but sweeping up to Kiara’s face like he hadn’t seen her just yesterday. “Damn.”

“What?”

He smirked. “Didn’t know you were tryna dress like a sexy professor today.”

Kiara raised an eyebrow, shifting Luna on her hip. “It’s called being put together. You should try it sometime.”

“I’m put together just fine.” He leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss to Luna’s cheek—then another, and another, until she giggled and slapped at his face with a drool-covered hand.

Rafe chuckled, wiping it off with the bottom of his shirt. “She’s obsessed with me.”

“She gets it from you,” Kiara muttered under her breath, then side-eyed him. “You gonna help or just flirt all night?”

Rafe opened the back door, crouching down to buckle Luna into her car seat. He handled her with so much care, double-checking the straps like they weren’t just driving down the street. He made sure her little toy giraffe was in reach, adjusted her pacifier, then ran a hand gently over her curls.

“I’m just sayin’, if I knew you were gonna wear that shirt, I wouldn’t have let you ride in the front seat,” he teased once he stood up. “Can’t have people thinking I’m not keeping my baby mama happy.”

Kiara slid into the passenger seat and gave him a warning look. “We’re not doing that tonight.”

“Doing what?” he asked, pulling off with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the space between them. “You mean lying to ourselves?”

“Rafe.”

He laughed under his breath and turned the music up.

As they pulled away from Kiara’s place, the truck hummed beneath them, windows slightly cracked to let in the salty OBX breeze. Luna was already babbling in the backseat, tucked in her lavender blanket, little fists waving like she had something urgent to say.

Rafe rested one hand on the wheel, the other stretched across the center console, fingers brushing against Kiara’s knee like it was second nature.

Kiara crossed her legs in the passenger seat and smoothed down the sides of her black turtleneck. She didn’t bother hiding her eye roll when she caught Rafe glancing down at her chest.

“Eyes up front.”

“They are,” he smirked, eyes still very much not on the road. “Front and center.”

She sighed. “Do you have to be like this?”

“Like what?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Flirty. Cocky. You act like this is a date.”

He leaned back a little, his silver chain shifting with the movement, catching the glow of the dashboard lights. “You’re in my truck. Dressed like a hot librarian. With my kid in the back. It’s kinda giving date night, if you ask me.”

Kiara bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile.

She hated how charming he could be when he felt like it.

“How’s work been?” he asked, glancing over again, genuine for a moment.

“Tiring,” she admitted. “Luna’s been teething, and my supervisor’s being passive-aggressive again, and I haven’t had time to—”

“—To what?” he interrupted, flashing her that annoying, knowing grin. “To think about how good I had you last week?”

“RAFE!”

“What?” He laughed, knuckles tapping the steering wheel. “You brought it up.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Your voice did,” he said, deepening his tone like a cheap imitation of her moaning. “The little breathy one? Yeah, that voice is still in my head.”

She smacked his arm, but she was laughing now—soft, low, despite herself.

“You’re such a dick.”

He shrugged. “You used to love it.”

“I used to love a lot of dumb things.”

“Okay. But let’s not forget who was the one whispering about wanting me to put a baby in her that night.”

The car went silent. Kiara stiffened.

“Rafe,” she warned, voice low.

He looked smug now. “What? I’m just saying’. You act like it was some freak accident, but you were in my ear talking’ about—‘don’t pull out this time’—”

“Oh my God—”

“‘I want it, Rafe. I wanna feel you put it in me’—that’s you, baby . That was all you.”

Kiara covered her face with her hands. “We weren’t thinking. We were in the moment.”

“And now look what the moment gave us.”

“You’re lucky she’s cute,” Kiara muttered.

“She’s perfect,” Rafe said, suddenly sincere, his hand tightening briefly around the wheel. “Best thing I’ve ever done. Even if you wanted to murder me when you found out.”

Kiara paused. “You were… surprisingly calm.”

“I mean, I was panicking on the inside,” he said, snorting. “But then I remembered what you looked like that night—head thrown back, all whiny, sayin’ ‘I want it.’” He shot her a wicked grin. “That’s why I couldn’t even be mad. You kinda did this.”

“You definitely did this,” she snapped, but she was laughing now.

“You encouraged it.”

“I did not—”

“You said—and I quote—‘then do it, I want all of it .’ Like it was a challenge.”

Kiara sighed, lips twisting. “I didn’t think it would happen.”

Rafe then proceeded to say

“Nah. See, that’s the part I keep thinking about. We’d done it before. You were on birth control. We were messy, but it never happened. But that night? You looked me in the eye and said—‘Give me a baby.’ Like I wasn’t gonna fold.”

Kiara rolled her eyes, but her face said she remembered exactly what she’d said.

Kiara turned to face the window, trying to hide her smile. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“You forgot how cocky I am, huh?” he said smugly, drumming his fingers on the wheel.

Yeah well… hard not to be cocky when my baby mama’s still fine as hell and I got the prettiest, chunkiest daughter in the backseat—who we accidentally made on purpose.”

She looked at him sideways. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Yes, it does,” he argued. “We didn’t plan her, but we wanted her. We just didn’t know it until we were too far gone.”

She looked out the window, cheeks burning. “You’re so annoying.

“Oh, I’m annoying now?” he said, leaning back with one arm draped over the steering wheel. “You weren’t calling me that when you were begging me not to pull out.”

Kiara’s head whipped around. “Rafe.”

He bit back a laugh. “Nah, don’t ‘Rafe’ me now. You said—and I quote—‘Don’t stop, I want you to put a baby in me,’ and you said it like it was the hottest thing you ever thought of in your life.”

“I was delirious,” she replied, cheeks warm but smiling anyway. “Shut up.”

“You were possessed,” he teased. “I was trying to be responsible. I almost did the right thing. But then you hit me with that voice, your nails digging into my back like you were casting a spell—boom. Nine months later, we got a little chunky boss baby,

Kiara let out a laugh, unable to hide how funny it was now. “That’s your fault. You folded.”

“You made me fold.”

“I didn’t make you do anything. I suggested something. You, Cameron, made a choice.”

Rafe pointed at her, nodding slowly. “Nah. Don’t gaslight me like that. You knew exactly what you were doing. That lip liner. That moaning. That whispery little ‘don’t pull out’—you weaponized it.”

“Okay, but be honest,” she said, biting her lip to keep from smiling. “Who really had the power that night?”

He looked at her, eyes narrowing.

“…You did.”

“Exactly.”

“You still do, unfortunately.”

Kiara turned to face him fully, smug now. “So I’m the reason Luna exists?

“You’re the reason I didn’t pull out like a grown man with sense,” Rafe said, smirking as he glanced at their daughter in the mirror that was facing her baby car seat . “And thank God I didn’t. Look at her. That’s my best work.”

Kiara rolled her eyes but smiled, softer this time, watching Luna shift and snore lightly. Her reflection in the mirror showing Luna gripping her giraffe , swaddled in a soft baby pink blanket, her chubby cheeks pressed against the plush straps. Her tiny hands twitched in sleep, and her little nose scrunched just like Kiara’s when she was concentrating.

10 minutes later they pulled into the restaurant parking lot, the sky had shifted from golden to gray. A slow, moody drizzle kissed the windshield, soft but persistent, like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to be serious. The wipers moved lazily, pushing away the droplets as Rafe killed the engine.

He ran a hand over his buzzcut, eyes flicking to the backseat where Luna was still asleep in her car seat—pacifier bobbing gently with each breath, cheeks full, lashes long. Her baby pink blanket had shifted slightly, exposing one socked foot.

“She’s still out,” he said, voice low.

Kiara turned her head, glancing back.

Luna was deep in sleep. Her cheeks were rosy and round, her pacifier gently bobbing with every slow breath. The soft blanket Rafe had tucked around her on the drive was pulled halfway up her chin, and her tiny fist peeked out from the side of the car seat.

“Yeah,” Kiara murmured. “Out like a light.”

They both sat there for another second, heads turned toward their daughter. It didn’t matter how many times they looked at her—they always ended up staring. She was too beautiful not to. A perfect mix of them. Her skin was a soft light caramel, her thick lashes fanned over her cheeks, and the combination of Rafe’s piercing blue eyes and eyebrows and Kiara’s gentle features made her already striking, even in sleep.

“She gets prettier every day,” Rafe said, almost to himself. Like he couldn’t believe they made her.

Kiara bit the inside of her cheek and looked down at her hands. She didn’t want to get soft tonight—not with him. Not when they couldn’t ever decide whether they were at war or in love.

But then—

Tap. Tap.

The rain was picking up.

Rafe sighed, rubbing his jaw before unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’ll get her,” he said, opening the door.

The blast of cool air hit them, bringing in the fresh scent of rain and earth.

“Of course it’s raining,” she muttered to herself, reaching over into her tote bag to make sure she had Luna’s bottle, the spare wipes.

She looked over her shoulder just in time to see Rafe pull Luna’s car seat out with one smooth, practiced motion, his grey shirt stretching over his chest. His buzzcut had already picked up a few raindrops. But it was the way he moved—gentle, careful, instinctive—that made her chest pull tight.

He reached for the blanket draped on the seat beside her, the lavender one with Luna’s name stitched in the corner, and draped it expertly over the top of the carrier, shielding their daughter completely.

“Got her,” he called softly through the crack in the door. “She’s good.”

Kiara stepped out, her black turtleneck clinging to her body in the misty air. Her glasses fogged slightly, and she pushed them up her nose with one hand while the other tugged her gold necklace into place. The gloss on her lips was still intact. Her curves? Definitely not hidden. And Rafe, standing there with their daughter in one hand and eyes on her, noticed all of it.

“Didn’t know it was gonna rain,” she grumbled.

Rafe grinned. “Your hair’s gonna curl up again.”

“Shut up.”

“I like it better curly anyway.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

He shifted the car seat in his hand to keep Luna steady, glancing down through the blanket draped over it. “Still out cold,” he said, the tiniest smile on his lips. “Not even the rain fazed her.”

Kiara stepped closer, both of them looking through the small opening in the blanket. Luna’s tiny chest rose and fell in rhythm, her plush giraffe tucked next to her cheek. The rain was barely a whisper around them now, but the moment felt loud. Like everything they didn’t say was sitting between them.

“You sure you covered her enough?” Kiara asked, touching the blanket gently.

“I always do,” Rafe murmured.

She looked at him. He looked back.

He didn’t say it, but it was all over his face: I take care of what’s mine.

Kiara swallowed, blinking slowly. “Let’s go in before it gets worse.”

Rafe nodded, stepping ahead, the car seat balanced against his bicep like it weighed nothing. He opened the restaurant door for her without asking, the rain sliding off his back. She followed close behind, hands brushing the sides of her now-frizzing hair but her eyes only on Luna.

And behind them, the truck sat steaming in the soft rain. Expensive. Flashy. A little too much—just like them. But it got them here.

Together.

Even if it wouldn’t last the whole night.

The restaurant was warm, dimly lit, with soft amber lighting and the buzz of conversation humming through the space.

Rafe held the car seat in one hand like it was nothing, his other hand adjusting the soft blanket draped over the top to keep Luna hidden from the cool air.

The hostess gave them a quick once-over when they walked in—Kiara noticed it, Rafe definitely noticed it.

“Two and a high chair?” the girl asked, her polite smile not quite hiding the fact that she was mostly looking at Rafe.

Kiara cleared her throat. “Three, actually. But yeah. High chair.”

The hostess then nodded and turned to Rafe direction and smiled a little too long at him, eyes flicking to the car seat he held, then up to his buzzcut, silver chain, and the jawline that screamed: trouble with money.

Rafe set Luna’s car seat down gently beside the hostess stand and stood up tall, glancing around like he already didn’t like the vibe. He never liked small talk with strangers. He especially didn’t like when women looked at him while ignoring the woman standing right next to him with his baby.

They were led to a booth in the back corner near the windows, “Right this way,” she said, chewing her gum and swaying her hips just a little too much.

Kiara scoffed softly under her breath and watched Rafe closely.

To her surprise, he didn’t even pretend to look.

In fact, he looked annoyed. His jaw was clenched, his gaze fixed on Luna, and his free hand gently moved the blanket aside to make sure she was still breathing easy, not too warm. When they reached the table, he didn’t wait for the hostess—he immediately started setting the car seat down with care, like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

The hostess stood there, clearly hoping for another glance. Another anything.

Rafe didn’t give it to her.

“Can we get a high chair too?” he asked, still not looking up.

“Oh—uh, yeah, of course,” she stammered, blinking before walking away faster than she needed to.

Kiara slid into the booth across from him, arms crossed, trying not to smile.

Rafe sat down, finally lifting his head to meet her stare.

“What?”

“You didn’t even look at her,” Kiara said, voice low.

His eyes locked on hers. “Why would I?”

Kiara looked away, tucking her lip into her teeth like she was trying not to melt.

“I hate when girls do that,” he muttered. “Like I don’t have my daughter in my arms and the mother of our child right next to me.”

Kiara didn’t expect that. But God, it hit somewhere deep.

Rafe leaned back in the booth, resting his arm across the backrest, eyes not leaving hers.

“I know I come off a certain way,” he said casually. “But when I walk in with you? You think I’m looking at anyone else?”

Kiara looked down, brushing an invisible crumb off the table. “You better not be.”

“I’m not.” His voice was quieter now. “She can stare all she wants. You’re the only one I see.”

And just like that, all the cold between them warmed.

Rafe’s gaze slid from Kiara’s face to the curve of her neck, the gold necklace catching the low light of the restaurant. His usual smirk softened as he spoke, voice low and rough with a hint of something like admiration.

“You look good tonight, Kie. Real good.”

Kiara glanced up, caught off guard but smiling anyway, the warmth spreading under her skin. She touched a loose strand of her wavy hair, freshly straightened but already curling back at the ends from the dampness outside.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “You’re not so bad yourself.

Rafe chuckled, but then his eyes flicked to his side and Luna stirred softly in her seat.

Her little eyelids fluttered open, blue eyes blinking slowly as if she wasn’t quite ready to leave her nap. Rafe reached out gently, unbuckling her with the softest touch, careful not to jostle her awake too much.

“Is Luna waking up?” Kiara asked, peering over at him.

“Yeah, she’s waking,” Rafe said, careful not to startle her. “Let me get her.”

He unbuckled Luna and lifted her out with practiced care. The baby’s warm breath tickled his neck as she snuggled into his chest, her chubby fingers curling around his shirt.

Kiara’s eyes softened as she watched him. “She’s the best thing we ever made,” she whispered, fingers grazing Luna’s cheek.

Before Rafe could respond, a sweet voice interrupted them.

“Oh, what a beautiful baby you have.”

They turned to see an elderly woman standing with a high chair and menus in hand. Her smile was genuine, eyes twinkling behind her glasses.

Kiara smiled warmly. “Thank you so much. She’s our whole world.”

Rafe nodded, his usual guarded demeanor softened. “Yeah. She’s perfect.”

The woman pulled the high chair over. “I’ve seen a lot of babies, but she’s got a special kind of cute. You both must be so proud.”

Kiara’s cheeks flushed. “We are. Every single day.”

Once Luna was safely seated in the high chair, munching on a teething toy, the waitress arrived to take their order. Rafe picked up a menu but barely glanced down; his attention was already back on Kiara.

That’s when he noticed.

The waiter approached their booth with a smooth, practiced smile, menu folded neatly in his hands. He looked like in his late 20s to early 30s —with slicked-back hair and eyes that didn’t quite mask how much they were wandering.

Kiara was leaning over the menu, glasses slightly down her nose as she tried to decide between the shrimp and grits or the grilled salmon. Her black turtleneck hugged her curves, and even covered, Rafe could tell the guy’s eyes kept drifting lower than polite.

Rafe’s jaw tightened.

Rafe noticed it the second the guy walked up.

Late -thirties . Lanky. Wore too much cologne and not enough shame. Had that fake polite smile and eyes that were already drifting places they didn’t belong.

“Evening, guys. I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” the waiter said, placing down two glasses of water and flashing Kiara a look that lingered a second too long. “Let me know if you need anything at all.”

Rafe didn’t say a word. He just leaned back and stared, his arm draped along the back of the booth like he was relaxing. He wasn’t.

Kiara didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy looking at the pasta options.

“I think I’ll get the penne with shrimp,” she said, closing her menu and handing it to the guy.

The waiter grinned. “Good choice. You’re not allergic to anything, right? Wouldn’t want anything to happen to someone as…”

His eyes dropped.

“…pretty as you.”

Kiara’s brows raised slightly, but she didn’t answer. She felt it now—the shift.

And she felt Rafe.

Still leaning back, silver chain glinting, that cold expression settling over his face like a thundercloud.

Then the waiter had the audacity.

“So, are you two… together?”

Kiara opened her mouth to respond—just out of instinct. But Rafe cut in.

Hard.

“What the fuck does it matter?”

The guy blinked. “I just meant—”

“I heard what you meant,” Rafe said, voice low and sharp, venom dripping from every word. “You came over here, stared at her chest like she didn’t notice, asked a dumbass question, and now you’re standing here pretending it was innocent.”

The air at the table dropped ten degrees.

Kiara didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. She knew this Rafe. The one that came out when he felt someone crossing a line. She wasn’t gonna stop him. She never did when it was like this—because she knew the truth:

He only got this cold when it was about her.

“She’s my girl,” Rafe said, voice like gravel now. “So take your little creepy fucking glances and get the hell away from this table before I have you fired by the time you hit the kitchen doors.”

The waiter’s face flushed, mouth parting like he might argue—but Rafe leaned forward, slow and dangerous.

“Do I look like I’m fucking playing with you?”

The guy stammered. “No—sir. Sorry, I’ll—I’ll go get someone else—”

“Do that,” Rafe snapped. “And tell them to send someone who knows how to look a mother in the eyes.”

The waiter practically tripped over himself trying to back away.

Once he was gone, the booth fell quiet again. Kiara picked up her water, unbothered. She sipped slowly, eyeing Rafe over the rim of her glass.

“You done?” she asked.

Rafe’s jaw was still tight. “Not yet.”

Kiara smirked, setting the glass down. “You really told that old man I’m your girl.”

He looked at her, something darker flickering under the blue. “You are.”

She didn’t correct him.

5 minutes later a different waiter came by and took their order and Rafe had suggested for a small bowl of soup for Luna to try.

Luna babbled in her high chair, clapping her hands against the tray, making sticky little noises with her pacifier. Her curls were a little wild from her nap, cheeks still flushed. Kiara reached over, smoothing her hand over Luna’s soft baby hair before grabbing a clean bib from the diaper bag.

“You ordered her soup?” she asked, a little surprised.

Rafe shrugged, casually sipping his water like it was whiskey. “Yeah. First soup. Big deal. Gotta be there for the milestones, right?”

Kiara blinked. “You’re soft.”

He smirked. “I’m practical she’s been eyeballing our food every time we eat in front of her. You’re the soft one.”

Kiara fastened the bib gently around Luna’s neck, talking to her in that warm, high-pitched voice she didn’t even realize she used. “Are you gonna try soup today, Luna? Yeah? Your first big girl soup?”

Luna squealed, all gums and joy, kicking her feet under the table.

Rafe watched the whole exchange with that cocky, crooked smile—leaned back, arms crossed, shaking his head.

“You get so extra with her,” he muttered, but not in a mean way. His voice was full of amusement.

Kiara raised an eyebrow, still cooing at Luna. “You’re mad she likes me more.”

“I carried her car seat through the rain like a soldier. She owes me.”

“She clings to me.”

“She giggles for me.”

“She naps on me.”

“She looks like me.”

Kiara looked up sharply. “She has my nose.”

“But my eyes.”

Kiara opened her mouth to say something, but the waitress returned with drinks and said, “Soup’s coming right out.”

As she left, Rafe gave Kiara a smug look and raised his brows. “You were about to say her curls are yours, huh?”

Kiara grinned. “Obviously. You think you could ever make hair this perfect?”

Rafe looked at Luna. Her curls were puffed and full and chaotic in the cutest way.

He shrugged. “Could be a team effort.”

Kiara tilted her head. “So we’re a team now?”

He didn’t answer.

He just looked at her, blue eyes calm but locked in. Serious in the way Rafe rarely let himself be.

And then, right on cue, Luna squealed loud and proud again—arms out like she was celebrating something.

Kiara laughed. “Look at her. She’s ready.”

“She’s always ready,” Rafe said, leaning in to fix the bib around her shoulder. “Little girl’s gonna be eating steak before she’s two.

When the food came, the waiter placed the tiny bowl of warm soup down gently in front of Kiara and nodded with a smile. “For the little one.”

“Thank you,” Kiara said.

Rafe leaned forward like it was a big moment.

He looked at Luna. “Alright,this is it. First soup don’t let us down.”

Kiara dipped the tiny spoon into the broth and blew on it until it was cool enough, then offered it to Luna’s lips.

The baby made a weird face—more confusion than anything—but opened her mouth.

They both leaned in like they were watching the climax of a movie.

Luna swallowed, smacked her lips… and gave a soft giggle.

Kiara gasped dramatically. “She likes it!”

Rafe fist-pumped. “Told you! Told you!”

He looked way too satisfied for someone whose daughter had just slurped a single spoon of watered-down soup, but Kiara didn’t say anything.

She just smiled.

And maybe—just a little—she let herself enjoy the sight of Rafe grinning like a kid, chest puffed out, silver chain bouncing as he leaned down to kiss Luna’s cheek.

Maybe she didn’t mind that he was a little too cocky.

Because when it came to Luna—

He earned it.

Later on the check came quietly, tucked between two black leather flaps. Rafe reached for it before Kiara even noticed, flicking it open with one hand and sliding his card in with the other like it was muscle memory.

Kiara glanced up from Luna, who was now babbling sleepily and rubbing her eyes. “You sure?”

He didn’t even look up. “Yeah. I got it.”

She didn’t argue—just ran a gentle hand over Luna’s curls as the waiter returned the receipt. Rafe scribbled his name, then added a generous tip without flinching. Hundred-dollar dinner, sixty-dollar tip. He always did that, like it was nothing. Like money came easy. For him, it did.

Kiara stood and unbuckled Luna from the highchair. The baby clung to her instinctively, cheek resting against her chest, arms wrapped around her collarbone. Kiara’s voice softened as she cooed, “I know, baby. It’s bedtime. Mama’s got you.”

Rafe watched her cradle their daughter, her curls brushing Luna’s forehead as she adjusted her grip and Rafe stood up to put the car seat next to her.

“Need help?” he asked.

Kiara shook her head, determined to snap Luna into the seat herself. “She’ll wake up if you jostle her.”

He didn’t argue. Just waited, arms crossed, watching as Kiara bent down with practiced ease, settling Luna gently into the cushioned seat. She clicked the straps in place like second nature, double-checking the chest buckle, her hand lingering on Luna’s leg as the baby let out a soft sigh.

“There we go,” she whispered, brushing Luna’s hair from her forehead.

Rafe stepped in after, lifting the car seat handle with one hand and hoisting it up with ease. “I’ll carry her to the car.”

Kiara nodded, brushing her hands on her dress before reaching to grab the baby bag.

She slung it over her shoulder, and when she stood up straight, Rafe’s other hand found her waist without a word.

His palm was warm, his fingers wide and sure against the curve of her hip. Not forceful—just present. Steady. Protective in the way only Rafe could be.

Kiara glanced at him, a flash of surprise in her eyes.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

He looked at her like he couldn’t tell if she meant for the dinner or for the hand on her body. Maybe both.

His fingers slid just a little higher, brushing the small of her back. “Anytime.”

And she didn’t move away.

As they walked out of the restaurant, the night air warm and thick around them, Kiara found herself glancing sideways at him.

It was supposed to be just dinner.

But somehow, it never stayed just anything with them.