Keifer POV
She was sleeping quietly, naked on the bed, like she hadn't challenged me at all.
Her chest rose and fell in slow rhythm, her chaos muted, her defiance hidden beneath the softness of sleep.
For a moment, she looked untouched.
For a moment, she looked like the storm hadn't happened.
But storms don't vanish.
They linger.
They wait.
Then I noticed she was waking up. Her lashes fluttered, her lips parted, her body shifting against the sheets.
And I closed my eyes, steady, deliberate, clipped — to see what she was going to do.
Her breath hitched, uneven, trembling.
I could feel her gaze on me, heavy, searching, chaotic.
She thought I was asleep.
She thought I wasn't watching.
Her fingers brushed against my chest, tentative, trembling but bold.
"Let's hope you don't push me away, Keifer," she whispered, her voice sharp, chaotic, trembling but bold.
She leaned in, chaos softening into something almost tender, her lips hovering close, ready to give me a quick peck. But I didn't let her. I pulled her in, deepening the kiss, steady, deliberate, claiming.
Her breath hitched, her chaos spilling into mine, her fingers curling against my chest as if she hadn't expected me to answer her challenge this way.
I smirked against her lips, clipped, teasing, deliberate. "Stealing kisses while I'm sleeping," I murmured, my voice low, lethal but playful. "I think that is a crime."
Her cheeks flushed instantly, chaos painting her silence in red.
She pulled back just enough, her lips trembling, her eyes wide, chaotic but unyielding. "You're the one who deepened it," she shot back, her voice sharp, defiant, trembling. "So if it's a crime, you're guilty too."
I chuckled, low and clipped, my jaw tight but my smirk refusing to fade. "Then I guess we'll both serve the sentence," I said, my voice steady, deliberate, knowing she would blush harder.
Her chaos didn't falter. She buried her face against my chest, her voice muffled but bold. "Just don't push me away again, Keifer. I won't forgive you twice."
I kissed her forehead, slow, deliberate, steady. Her skin was warm beneath my lips, chaos quiet for once, her breath soft against the silence.
"Trust me," I said, my voice low, clipped, lethal but certain. "Even if you ask me to push you, I won't."
Her eyes widened, chaos flashing, trembling but bold.
She searched my face like she wanted to catch me lying, like she wanted proof that my words weren't just another clipped promise.
"I hope so" She said
I brushed a strand of hair from her face, my touch clipped but softer than I meant it to be. "You don't get rid of me, Jay. Not now. Not ever."
Her breath hitched, her chaos colliding with mine, her silence trembling between fury and surrender.
And for the first time, I saw it — she believed me.
Not because I said it.
But because she felt it.
"So when are we going back home?" she asked, her voice soft, chaotic, trembling but steady.
"Do you want to go now?" I asked, clipped, deliberate.
She nodded, then suddenly started to laugh. My jaw tightened, my silence louder than any roar. "Why are you laughing?" I asked, my voice low, clipped.
Her lips parted, chaos spilling through her smile. "Nothing… it's just that we had our first one in a hotel. When you saw my ex."
The words hit sharper than any blade. I kissed her hard, deliberate, claiming, cutting off the chaos before it could burn deeper. "Don't say his name again," I said, my voice low, lethal, clipped.
Her eyes widened, her breath uneven, but she didn't flinch. "I didn't say his name," she whispered, chaotic, trembling but bold.
My jaw clenched, my chest burning, my silence heavy. Because she was right. She hadn't said his name. But she had reminded me. And that was enough to ignite the storm inside me.
I leaned closer, my forehead pressed against hers, my voice low, clipped, deliberate. "Then don't remind me of him, Jay. Don't bring him into us. He doesn't exist anymore. Not here. Not with you. Not with me."
Her chaos softened, her lips trembling, her eyes wide but unyielding. "Then prove it, Keifer. Prove I'm the only one who exists for you now."
I smirked, my voice low, clipped, deliberate. "Do you really not want to walk for a month straight?"
"Gago," she muttered, chaotic, sharp, her blush rising.
I kissed her, hard, steady, claiming. "Profanity," I said, smirking, knowing she would turn redder.
She pulled away, flustered, clutching the blanket to her chest as she stood. Her chaos spilled into the silence, awkward and bold all at once. "What are you doing?" I asked, my voice low, clipped.
"Uhh… getting dressed so we can go home," she said, confused, her chaos trembling in the way she avoided my gaze.
I leaned back against the bed, my smirk refusing to fade. "Well, no need to cover yourself," I said, my voice deliberate, teasing, lethal in its certainty. "I already saw everything."
Her cheeks burned, her chaos colliding with mine, her silence trembling between fury and surrender. She clutched the blanket tighter, her lips parting, her voice sharp but breaking. "You're impossible, Keifer."
I chuckled, low, clipped, steady. "Impossible to forget. Impossible to escape. And impossible to push away."
Her chaos didn't falter.
She blushed harder, her eyes wide, trembling but bold.
And I knew — even in her defiance, even in her blush, she was mine.
She went to the bathroom still wrapped in the blanket, chaos trailing behind her like a shield.
I grabbed my stuff, clipped, deliberate, pulling on my clothes with steady hands.
By the time she came out, her hair messy, her cheeks flushed, she nodded at me. "Ready?" I asked, my voice low, clipped. She nodded again, chaos trembling in her silence.
We stepped outside. The hotel staff's eyes followed us, lingering, heavy, knowing. Their looks were sharp, amused, judgmental.
Jay's lips parted, her voice sharp, chaotic, breaking the silence. "Why are they looking at us like that?"
I smirked, clipped, teasing, deliberate. "Probably because of your screaming. Or maybe… 'Don't stop, Keifer.'"
Her cheeks burned instantly, chaos spilling into her blush.
She turned her face away, her silence trembling between fury and surrender.
I leaned closer, my voice low, clipped, lethal but playful. "Don't worry. They're just jealous."
Her eyes snapped back to mine, chaotic, wide, trembling but bold. "Jealous of what?" she asked, her voice sharp, defiant.
I smirked, steady, deliberate. "Jealous that you're mine."
Her blush deepened, her chaos softening, her lips trembling but unyielding.
And I knew — even in the aftermath, even under their stares, she was mine.