Chapter Four

The confession hung in the air, raw and unguarded, but it was all I could give him. His gaze softened instantly, and in two quiet steps, he closed the distance between us. My breath hitched as he reached out, his fingertips grazing my cheek with such tenderness it sent shivers racing down my spine.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely audible now, as though he was afraid to break the spell. I nodded, unable to find my voice. My fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer until his face was just inches from mine. The anticipation sent heat pooling in my stomach, and my entire body felt like it was on the edge of something—something I couldn’t quite name.

He hesitated for half a second longer before finally leaning in. The first brush of his lips against mine was so soft it almost undid me. It was careful, gentle, full of the love I knew he had for me, but it wasn’t enough—not anymore. I kissed him back, letting the walls I’d been holding up for so long come crashing down.

That’s when everything shifted.

His hand moved to the back of my neck, tilting my face up as his lips claimed mine with a hunger I’d never felt before. My heart raced as the kiss deepened, his mouth exploring mine with a slow, deliberate urgency that sent warmth flooding through me. I clung to him, my hands sliding up his chest and around his neck as I pulled him impossibly closer.

The kiss grew more intense, our restraint slipping away with every passing second. His other hand found my waist, his grip firm yet careful as he pulled me to my feet and against him. The feel of his body pressed to mine sent my mind spinning. I could feel the heat radiating off him, his heartbeat pounding beneath my fingertips, and it only made me want him more.

He broke the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath ragged, his voice low and unsteady. “I love you,” he said, his words brushing against my lips like a promise.

My heart ached at the raw sincerity in his voice. “I love you too,” I whispered, and this time, I kissed him first.

Everything after that felt like a blur of heat and touch and whispered words. He kissed me again, his lips trailing down my jaw, and my neck, leaving fire in their wake. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he explored every inch of me. His touch was careful, reverent, as though I might break if he wasn’t gentle enough.

When he lifted me into his arms, I didn’t hesitate to let him lay me back against the bed. The room around us disappeared, forgotten, as we lost ourselves in each other. He hovered over me, his eyes searching mine, and I knew this was different—this wasn’t just physical. This was something deeper.

]Every kiss, every caress, every whispered “you’re beautiful” made my heart ache in the best way. He touched me like I was precious like I was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. And when we finally came together, it felt like a breaking point and a beginning all at once—like we were letting down every barrier and giving ourselves to each other completely.

We moved together slowly at first, learning, and savoring every touch and every sound. My body arched to meet his, my hands exploring the contours of his back, memorizing every detail of him. It was overwhelming, raw, and beautiful all at once.

And as the intensity built, I couldn’t stop the tears that burned my eyes—not because I was sad, but because I’d never felt so safe, so loved, so completely seen.

Afterward, he held me close, his arms wrapped around me like a promise he’d never let go. His lips pressed soft kisses to my temple, my forehead, anywhere he could reach as we lay tangled together in the sheets.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice low and gentle as his fingers traced idle patterns along my back.

I smiled against his chest, my heart still racing but full in a way I couldn’t explain. “I’ve never been better.”

He tilted my face up, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips—soft now, unhurried—before resting his forehead against mine. “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he murmured, his breath mingling with mine.

I reached up, brushing my fingers along his jaw as I whispered back, “You’re not the only one.”

And as we lay there together, our bodies entwined, the world outside felt miles away. This was our moment—ours alone—and I knew I’d carry it with me forever.

When I got home that night, Beatrice called her voice tinged with curiosity.

“So, how was dinner?” she asked, not even bothering with pleasantries.

“It was fine,” I said vaguely, not ready to dive into the details.

“Fine?” she repeated, clearly not satisfied. “Come on, Stella. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” I lied, my chest tightening.

Beatrice sighed, and I could practically see her rolling her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Goodnight, Bea,” I said, hanging up before she could press further.

As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking a fine line between caution and recklessness.

Jack Ashford was dangerous, yes. But he was also impossible to resist. But I loved him and he expressed the same feelings for me.