The late afternoon sun bled into Rafe’s bedroom, casting everything in a lazy, golden haze. His calculus notes were tossed across the bed, ignored and forgotten. Because how the hell was he supposed to focus on textbooks when you were sitting there, cross-legged on his bed, looking like sin and heaven rolled into one? You are wearing a maroon spaghetti strap tight tank top that’s low cut but not V-neck and black low rise short jean short shorts that barely cover your ass gold earrings bracelet and necklace with your hair in beach waves. You were flipping pages, tapping your pen against the textbook, rambling about derivatives like you weren’t completely wrecking him without even trying.

Your tank top strap slides down a tiny bit showing the strap of your black bra