Chaptre 43 : Jason POV :
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Content Warning: Mature Content (18+)This chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature intended for mature audiences. Reader discretion is advised.
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We had just finished dinner—warm, loud, strangely comforting. I didn't expect to feel at home in a place I'd never been before, but watching Scarlett smile at her cousin and brush her hand over her father's, I saw a side of her that she doesn't let out often. The softness. The one that existed before pain turned her heart into armor.
When we entered her room, I closed the door behind us quietly. The walls were a soft shade of blue, a few bookshelves in the corner, and an old corkboard filled with fading photos. Her childhood felt like it was still living in this room. It smelled like lavender and the sea.
Scarlett turned to me and smiled gently. "You okay?"
I nodded and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Yeah. Just… trying to imagine little Scarlett sitting on this bed with braids and glittery notebooks."
She rolled her eyes, laughing. "I didn't do braids."
I stepped closer. "But you were still adorable, weren't you?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Flattery doesn't work on me anymore."
"Oh, I'm not flattering you," I said, my voice lower now, "I'm stating facts."
She opened her mouth to respond, but I was already there, brushing her hair back, letting my fingers trace along her jaw.
"You look like you belong here," I whispered.
Her eyes locked onto mine, and I saw the tension shift. Her walls lower. Something raw in her chest breathing again.
Then she kissed me. Slow at first, searching. Like she needed to feel anchored in something real.
I pulled her close, hands moving to her waist, her skin warm through the thin fabric of her dress. She sighed softly against my lips, and it was the sound that broke the last of my control.
Clothes came off slowly—not ripped, not rushed. Her dress slid down her shoulders like it had been waiting for this moment. My shirt hit the floor without a sound. Her fingers traced the lines of my chest, memorizing them like she hadn't already.
When I laid her gently on the bed, the soft creak of the old mattress beneath her, she whispered my name like a promise.
My body pressed to hers ,Her nails slid down my back. Her thighs wrapped around me, pulling me closer. The world could've ended right there, and we wouldn't have noticed.
She whispered things I'll never forget. Moaned things that made me forget my name.
She clung to me. I moved inside her with slow, deep rhythm, each thrust a reminder that she was real, here, mine.
When it was over, she laid her head on my chest. Breathing fast. Skin glowing.
"You okay?" I asked again, brushing her hair off her forehead.
"I'm home," she whispered.
And in that moment… so was I.