𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚍

She hated herself for it. For the way her chest tightened when he walked into a room, for the way her eyes found him no matter how many people stood between them. It wasn't love. It wasn't even lust. It was a craving.

The same gnawing hunger she'd seen in his pupils when the coke had its claws in him. The restless energy, the way nothing mattered but the next line, the next hit. That was her, every time he looked at her. Every time he smirked like he knew she was already lost.

And when he touched her-God, when he touched her-it was a high. White-hot, dizzying. The world sharpened, colors too bright, sounds too loud, and all she could feel was him. His hands on her waist, his mouth against her throat, his voice rasping her name like it was a prayer and a curse all at once. With him, she wasn't Cassie Drake anymore. She was fire. She was alive.

But the crash always came.

The silence after. The hollow ache in her chest. The guilt that burned hotter than the high ever did. She'd tell herself it was the last time. That she hated him. That she wouldn't let him touch her again.

And then the craving would start all over.

That was the truth she couldn't outrun: Rafe Cameron was her drug. The thing she swore off, the thing she swore would kill her if she kept going back. And still, even knowing how it would end, she wanted him.

Every time.

Because the high was worth the ruin.

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Outer Banks S1-S4
Extended Summary Inside