30

The Cameron estate looked like it belonged in a movie — sunlight spilling over white stone, the pool glistening in the middle of the backyard like a perfect oasis. The smell of sunscreen, salt air, and chlorine mixed with the distant sizzle of something cooking on the outdoor grill.

Speakers were tucked behind palm planters, pumping out a summer playlist filled with bass-heavy hits and old-school anthems. Everything about it screamed rich kid summer.

The pool was lit up by the blazing sun, water sparkling like glass while the bass of an old speaker thudded low in the background.

"Yo, Sarah! You better not fall asleep on that thing," Kelce shouted, standing by the edge of the pool, pointing at her floating on a neon pink raft.

"I'm resting, dumbass," Sarah fired back, not even lifting her head. "You try staying cute in this heat."

Topper was parked on the edge of the pool, beer in hand, feet in the water. He looked over at Stella, who had just peeled off her tank top and was smoothing tanning oil over her legs. "You know she's gonna burn and blame all of us, right?"

"She always does," Stella said, tossing the oil back in her bag and sliding her sunglasses on. "Then acts like it's our fault she's fried."

"Y'all are dramatic as hell," Sarah muttered.

Across the pool, Rafe was stretched out on a float, arms behind his head, looking half-asleep and fully relaxed. But his eyes were open behind his dark shades — and they were on Stella.

"You're quiet over there," he called, voice lazy, like he already knew why.

"I'm just enjoying the show," she replied, barely glancing his way.

He smirked. "What show?"

"The one where you pretend you're not looking over here every five seconds," she said, reaching down to trail her fingers in the water.

Kelce laughed. "Damn."

Topper raised his beer. "She got you there, bro."

Rafe didn't answer, just stretched and yawned like none of it mattered. But under the water, his foot lightly brushed Stella's leg. Just once. Just enough for her to know it wasn't an accident. She didn't flinch, didn't even look up — only her mouth curved into a small smirk.

"Careful," she murmured low enough only he could hear. "Someone might notice your aim's off."

He kept his voice just as casual. "Who says it's off?"

She tossed a splash of water in his direction without turning her head, still pretending to be focused on Sarah's playlist as it changed songs.

Kelce was now arguing with Topper about who had the better Spotify queue, both of them half-joking and half-serious as always. Sarah had one AirPod in and her eyes closed, soaking in the sun.

The whole vibe was chill — the kind of rich kid summer hangout that looked effortless, but cost more than anyone would admit.

Eventually, everyone climbed out of the water to dry off and melt into the loungers. Sarah pulled Stella down onto the chair next to her.

"Okay, I'm officially cooked," she groaned, twisting her hair into a bun. "I can literally feel my skin frying."

"Should've worn the sunscreen I gave you," Stella said, eyes closed behind her glasses.

"You gave me tinted sunscreen. That's not real sunscreen," Sarah replied.

Kelce flopped down near them and stretched out like he owned the place. "Boat day's tomorrow. Who's bringing the drinks?"

"We'll have drinks on way or another," Topper muttered, cracking open another beer. "We're Kooks."

Rafe, now seated on the lounge chair closest to Stella, leaned back on his elbows, seemingly invested in the convo. But behind his sunglasses, his attention shifted. His hand brushed his wet hair back, and without looking at her, he leaned slightly to the side.

"You look good today," he said low, almost like it was nothing.

She didn't turn her head. Just hummed. "You say that like I don't always."

He smirked.

"You always do," he murmured, then shifted back like he hadn't said a word.

They sat like that for a while, quiet in the chaos, letting the others talk over them. But there was this energy between them — subtle, steady. Like heat you didn't notice until it made your skin burn.

Then, while Sarah turned over on her stomach and Topper started throwing grapes at Kelce, Rafe leaned in again. Closer this time. Barely moving his lips.

"Come inside in five," he said, voice smooth and low. "Door's cracked."

Stella didn't react. Didn't glance at him. Just reached for her drink and took a slow sip, her mouth lifting in the faintest grin.

"Okay," she said under her breath, like she'd been waiting for him to ask.

Rafe leaned back again like nothing had happened, stretching and letting out a fake yawn as he sat up and grabbed his towel. The sun was starting to dip, casting gold across the pool deck, everyone still half-dozing in the heat.

"I'm bouta dip inside for a minute," he said casually, drying his arms. "Gotta handle somethin' real quick—Ward texted, business stuff."

Kelce raised a brow. "On a Sunday?"

Topper laughed. "That man never takes a day off."

"Yeah, well," Rafe shrugged, standing up. "Money don't sleep."

Nobody questioned it. Sarah didn't even open her eyes.

Stella stretched a little, pushing her sunglasses into her hair. "I should check my phone anyway. I left it upstairs."

"Damn," Sarah said. "Hope it didn't melt."

Stella gave her a lazy smile and got up too, grabbing her towel and slipping her feet into her slides. "I'll be back down. Don't let Kelce near the speaker."

"No promises," Kelce called out.

As soon as Stella stepped through the back door and into the cool air of the house, her pace quickened just slightly. Rafe was already ahead of her, disappearing around the corner of the staircase without looking back.

By the time she reached the top landing, he was holding his bedroom door open, giving her this crooked little grin like he'd been expecting her forever.

"Took your sweet time," he said.

She walked past him without answering, brushing against his shoulder just enough to make a point. "Didn't want it to look obvious."

He shut the door with a soft click.

Her back was to him as she moved to the window, tugging the sheer curtain aside and looking down at the pool. They could still hear faint music and the occasional laugh, but the upstairs felt like a different world — quiet, private, wrapped in thick summer air.

She turned just as Rafe stepped closer, his voice low and teasing. "So what excuse are you gonna tell 'em when we don't come back down?"

Stella smiled, slow and sly. "Told you. My phone."

He nodded. "Right. Gotta check it thoroughly, huh?"

"Very thoroughly," she said, stepping closer until she was in front of him. "Might take a while."

His hands found her hips like it was second nature, thumbs brushing her bare skin above the waist of her bikini bottoms. "Could've just asked me to come up."

"You asked me, remember?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"I like when you pretend I didn't."

There was a heartbeat of silence between them. Just heat. Want. That pull that always seemed to exist when they were in the same room.

Then he kissed her.

It started slow — mouths brushing, almost hesitant, like they were still holding onto the game. But it didn't stay that way. His hands slid up her back, pulling her closer, and hers tugged gently at the chain around his neck, keeping him there. The taste of beer and summer clung to both of them.

She breathed against his mouth, "Still wanna play it cool downstairs?"

"Too late for that," he murmured, kissing down the side of her jaw. "Way too late."

He backed her up until she hit the edge of the bed, then guided her down with that same confidence he wore like a second skin. His hands traced her legs, her sides, the curve of her waist like he was memorizing everything all over again.

Stella's breath caught as she tugged him down with her. Lips met again, harder this time. Hungrier. His fingers slid along the tie at her bikini top, pausing just long enough for her to nod.

And in that moment, all the tension, all the teasing, melted into heat — like the whole world outside that room didn't exist.

He didn't rush. That wasn't how this worked between them. Rafe moved like he always did — like he already had what he wanted, like he didn't need to try. But Stella knew better. She could feel the tension under his skin, the way his jaw flexed when she looked at him like that. She had that kind of effect on him — and she liked knowing it.

Rafe stepped closer again, his hands brushing her hips like he was checking if she was still real. She was. Very real. Skin warm from the sun, eyes darker than they'd been by the pool, breathing slower now that they were alone.

"You sure you wanna stay up here?" he asked, voice low.

She gave a soft scoff. "You brought me here"

He smirked but didn't say anything. Just leaned in again and kissed her — not like before. Slower this time, deeper. One of his hands came up to the side of her face, fingers threading through her damp hair, and the other stayed on her waist, grounding her, like if he let go she'd disappear.

Stella's hands slid up his chest, over the curve of his shoulders, and her nails lightly scratched down his back. He made a sound at that — barely a sound at all, really, more like a hum against her mouth — but it sent a thrill through her chest.

She reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he let her pull it off. His skin was hot from the sun, a golden sheen across his chest and collarbone, and she kissed the hollow between his shoulder and neck before he gently pushed her back onto the edge of the bed.

His eyes met hers again. Still waiting. Still asking — in that quiet Rafe way. Not because he wasn't sure what he wanted, but because he wanted her to be sure too.

She pulled him down by the chain around his neck. "I'm not going anywhere."

That was all he needed.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, bodies pressed together, warmth and tension melting into each other. Rafe's hand slid down her thigh, tracing the line of her leg, fingertips dragging along the skin just beneath the edge of her bikini. Stella's breath hitched, but she didn't stop him.

She touched him like she was learning something — palms against his skin, fingers dragging slowly down his sides, across his back, memorizing the way he moved beneath her hands. His kisses had turned slower now, like he wasn't trying to rush toward anything but sink into the way she tasted, the way her breath stuttered when his hands moved higher, more confident.

"Tell me if you wanna stop," he murmured into the space between her lips and her collarbone.

"Please don't," she whispered.

He paused, kissed her again, and then began undoing the tie at her bikini top, carefully, like she was something valuable — not fragile, not soft, just... worth taking his time with. She helped, pushing the fabric aside, not shy, not hesitant.

Rafe's hands moved over her like he was trying to feel every inch, not just skin but tension, heartbeat, all of it. Stella could feel herself unraveling under him — the slow burn of it, the way his mouth followed the line of her jaw, her collarbone, lower.

The music from outside drifted faintly up into the room, but it felt far away, like background noise to something that had been building for a long time. Everything that had been quiet looks, stolen touches, teasing remarks — all of it — was here now, unraveling in this heat-heavy room where no one could see them.

And for the first time in days, Stella didn't feel out of place.

She just felt wanted. Chosen. And real.

Stella's fingers moved slowly, undoing the tie at her bikini bottoms, the strings slipping through her hands like water. She tossed them to the floor beside her top, her eyes never leaving Rafe's as she lay back against the pillows, chest rising and falling, lips parted. The weight of the moment buzzed in the air between them, all golden skin and heat and the kind of tension that made time feel like it was holding its breath.

Rafe took her in for a moment — really took her in — his eyes dragging over every inch of her, slow and reverent. She could see it in the way his jaw tightened, how his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. His own swim trunks were already on the floor, kicked aside with the kind of careless urgency only he could pull off. There was nothing between them now. No layers. No space.

He leaned down, bracing one hand beside her head while the other skimmed her thigh, sliding up slowly, deliberately, until his fingers brushed the inside. She inhaled sharply, her leg shifting to hook around his waist, pulling him closer.

"You're unreal," he muttered against her skin, kissing just below her collarbone. "And you don't even know it." His unoccupied hand, now rubbing onto his enlarged bulge.

She smiled breathlessly, hand threading through his messy blond hair, tugging just enough to make him look at her. "Then show me."

He kissed her again, deeper — like he was answering her without words. His hips rolled against hers, teasing, testing, until she was breathless and arching into him, her hands roaming his back, his shoulders, nails dragging faint lines across his skin.

Just as he shifted his weight, lining himself up, her body ready and waiting, she whispered his name — a soft, shaky plea that had his eyes fluttering shut for half a second.

And then—

"Rafe!"

Both of them froze.

Rafe let his head drop against her shoulder with a frustrated growl, his body still pressed against hers, the tension between them wound so tight it hurt.

"Rafe, dude! You up here?" Topper's voice was right outside the door now, too loud, too casual. "Kelce is losing his mind. You got any more of the lime beers?"

Stella blinked up at the ceiling, still catching her breath, her legs instinctively pulling away slightly from Rafe's hips as reality came crashing in.

"I'm going to kill him," Rafe muttered into her neck, completely still.

She let out a breathless, almost hysterical laugh. "Of all the times..."

He pulled back just enough to look down at her, still visibly torn between rage and disbelief. "You good?"

She nodded, brushing a strand of hair off her flushed cheek. "You?"

He gave a dry laugh and kissed her forehead, muttering, "I've never been so not good."

Another knock. "Bro! Lime or mango, pick one! I'm not playing bartender all day."

Rafe groaned and rolled off her reluctantly, grabbing his swim trunks off the floor and yanking them back on, still shooting death glares at the door.

Stella reached for her bikini, adjusting it quickly with shaky hands and a smirk on her lips. "You better make it up to me."

Rafe shot her a look as he headed for the door. "Oh, I will."

Then under his breath, as he opened it: "Might bury Topper first though."

She giggled into the sheets as he slipped out, and even though the moment was cut short, the heat still lingered in the room — heavy and unfinished.

Very unfinished.

Stella laid there for a minute, she could still smell him on the sheets. She slowly traveled her hand on her tits, rubbing on them just like Rafe had been. Her eyes shut, it was almost like it was him there.

She moved her other hand down towards her clit, rubbing it desperately. Stella moaned softly, calling out Rafes name, as she inserted her two fingers inside of her.

"Fuck" She muttered, now picking up the pace. She quickly grabbed onto the sheets underneath her for support, while she placed her fingers in and out of herself.

After a few minutes, Rafe suddenly shut the door behind him harder than necessary, muttering something about "idiots" and "Kelce owes me gas money for the rest of the summer." His jaw was tight, still frustrated, and he yanked the chain on his neck as he kicked his flip-flops off.

But the second he turned around, the breath left his chest.

There she was — lying back on his bed, the sunlight now slanting lower through the blinds, painting golden stripes across her bare stomach. Her bikini top was still off, the thin blanket bunched around her thighs, and one of her hands was between her legs, slow and delicate.

Her eyes flicked up to his the moment she heard the door, but she didn't flinch. Didn't cover up. She just held his gaze — calm, certain, lips parted, cheeks flushed from the heat or maybe from the fact that she knew what she was doing to him.

Rafe stood there, frozen for a beat, mouth slightly open. The door clicked shut behind him.

"You couldn't wait for me?" he asked, voice low and rough, his tone somewhere between teasing and completely undone.

Stella tilted her head on the pillow, fingers never stopping. "You took too long."

His expression darkened in the best way — not angry, but hungry. Like something had snapped in him.

"You're gonna kill me," he muttered, pulling his shirt back off and letting it fall.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Rafe crossed the room in two steps, kneeling onto the bed, his hand brushing up her thigh until it replaced hers, and she let him.

"You drive me insane," he said under his breath, mouth hovering just above hers.

"Good." She moaned,

Then he kissed her — and this time, nothing interrupted them.