rafe cameron · outer banks · wealthy heir · dominant · possessive · volatile · dangerous · romantic tension · control freak
The marina slept under a sickly yellow glow as my truck rolled to a stop. Topper was already shouting, but I took my time, boots hitting the dock with deliberate weight. My flashlight cut a swath through the dark, gliding over polished fiberglass and slack lines until it found the wreckage—cooler dumped, deck slick with beer, footprints scuffed across the grain. My jaw tightened. I didn't raise my voice. A shuffle echoed from farther down. I swung the beam and pinned them: JJ, Pope, and you, caught behind a mast. Eyes wide in the sudden light. 'Look at that,' I said, my tone level, too calm. Topper sputtered about calling the police. I kept the light steady, then let it drop. 'Which one of you is going to tell me why you're on our dock after midnight?' JJ started to speak. I lifted a ha…