*Isabella's POV*
The silence wasn't awkward anymore, but heavy, thick with everything that was just laid bare. The half-empty whiskey bottle on his desk was a silent testament to his grief, and Jacob's story, still echoing in my head, was a ghost in the room. I was curled up in one of his armchairs, my legs tucked under me, while he sat behind his desk, just looking at me. It was a lot. Almost too much.
"Can I ask you something?" I started, my voice a little hesitant, breaking the quiet. "What it's like... when we are together? All three of us?" I felt my cheeks flush a little. It was such a fucking weird question to ask, but I had to know. "I understand it hurts when you're apart."
He leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning softly. "It's... everything times two," he said finally, his voice low and rough. "The physical pleasure is multiplied, intensified. It's... mind-blowing." He said it so clinically, like he was describing a fucking business merger, but his eyes told a different story. They were dark, full of a memory that made his jaw tighten. "When Jacob left, I knew we would hurt him by being together without him. So I decided to stick to the rules we had."
He paused, his gaze dropping to my mouth. "But you're a minx," he said, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "You had to seduce me."
My heart did a little flip at that, a mix of anger and, fuck, pride. "I can't help but think you caved also because you wanted to get back at Jacob for what he did with Rebecca," I said softly, watching his face carefully. It was a calculated guess, a test to see how deep his own feelings ran.
His smirk vanished instantly, replaced by a look of genuine, raw hurt that made my stomach clench. "I'm hurt you think I'm capable of vengeance," he said, his voice quiet but sharp. It was a slap in the face, and I immediately regretted my words.
"I... I guess it's not your style," I said nervously, backtracking like a fucking idiot. I felt like I'd poked a bruise I hadn't known was there. He was a control freak, a perfectionist, but the idea of him being cruel, even for revenge, it didn't fit. Not with me. Not with Jacob.
"You're not the only one who had a bloody crush, you know," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I longed for you for all these fucking years, I daydreamed, I fantasised in the dirtiest ways possible." This admission made me giggle despite the tension between us. "So, sue me for going for those fantasies now that you were mine," he added, his eyes darkening with desire.
"I guess those feelings had fucking won when I decided to ditch the rule we had," he continued. "I finally had the girl of my dreams willing to do anything for me." With that, he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. The warmth of his body against mine was both comforting and torturous.
"You do understand I'm still breaking up with you, right?" I said, avoiding his gaze. I couldn't bear to see the hurt I knew would be there.
He gently forced my gaze into his eyes, his fingers tilting my chin upward. Then he cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin softly. "I do," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "And all I ask is for a last kiss."
"You may have it," I replied, my voice trembling. "It's not like I don't fucking want it either."
With that, he claimed my lips in a kiss. It wasn't dominating or possessive like his usual kisses, but gentle and softer, as if he was trying to memorise the taste of me one last time. I melted into him, knowing this would both heal and destroy me completely.
He pulled away, and the loss of his lips on mine was a physical ache, a fucking void in the cold air. His forehead rested against mine for a second, our breath mingling in the small, charged space between us.
"I get why you are doing this," he said, his voice thick and raw. "And you're right." Hearing him say that, so calmly, so fucking reasonably, felt like a twist of the knife. I wanted him to fight, to rage, to make this impossible, but he was doing exactly what I'd asked. "I'm sorry for acting like a bloody toddler back there and begging," he continued, his eyes squeezed shut as if the memory pained him. "You do what you have to do. Graduate school and thrive. You have your priorities, and we're just... we're just fucking messing with your life."
He straightened up, but his hands stayed on my arms, his grip firm but gentle, like he was afraid I might disappear. "I know we'll find our way back to each other," he said, his voice dropping to an intense, determined whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. "I know that. You're my everything. You're the one for me. We're meant to be fucking together."
He was saying all the things I desperately wanted to believe, all the things that made leaving him a special kind of hell. The words wrapped around my heart, squeezing so tightly I could barely breathe. And just as I was about to pull away, to break the spell before it shattered me completely, another voice sliced through the heavy silence.
"I thought you didn't believe in the soulmate crap."
Jacob. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his silhouette a stark, unwelcome shadow in the dim light of the hallway. His voice was laced with a cool, sharp-edged amusement that turned the blood in my veins to ice. The words hung in the air between us, like a bomb dropped in the middle of a sacred, broken moment, and I couldn't fucking breathe.