The morning sun streamed through the curtains, painting golden streaks across the dining room. As I slid into my seat for breakfast, Jackson was already there. His gaze locked onto mine—a heat that sent a ripple down my spine. I fumbled with my coffee, nearly choking, as his eyes lingered, intense and unapologetic.
After a few tense moments of stolen glances, I escaped to my room, my heart pounding in my chest. How did we end up here? Kissing my supposed stepson—it was unthinkable, yet the memory replayed vividly, each detail igniting emotions I wasn't ready to name.
A knock broke my thoughts. Before I could answer, Jackson stepped in. His presence filled the room, his expression unreadable but his intent clear.
"Celine," he began, his voice low, almost pleading. "Can we talk?"
I hesitated but nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Okay."
He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. "About last night… it wasn't a mistake. My heart aches for you, Celine. I love you. I know it's wrong—you're my father's wife—but I can't help how I feel."
"Jackson, stop." My voice trembled as I looked away, avoiding the storm in his eyes. "We have to forget it happened. It was a mistake."
"But it wasn't!" His voice softened as he reached for my hand, his fingers warm against mine. "You feel it too—I know you do. Don't deny it, Celine. Don't deny us."
My silence betrayed me. He was right—I couldn't deny it. The kiss haunted me, its sweetness lingering on my lips. Against every moral boundary, I had fallen for him.
But this was wrong. It had to be. "Jackson, we can't do this," I whispered, my voice breaking. "It's too—"
He didn't let me finish. Standing abruptly, he turned toward the door but hesitated. In a single stride, he was back, pulling me into his arms. His lips found mine, and this time, the kiss burned with passion. I couldn't resist—I didn't want to. Even when he pulled away, I reached for him, desperate to hold on to what I shouldn't want.
The days blurred as our secret grew. Jackson became my solace, my escape from the loveless marriage with Dickson. His touch, his words, reminded me of a time when love wasn't a distant memory. But as our affair deepened, so did the danger.
One evening, Jackson walked into my room as I stepped out of the bathroom, my towel clinging to damp skin.
"Let me help you," he offered, his voice a seductive whisper.
Before I could protest, he took the lotion from my hands, his fingers gliding over my skin. His breath warmed my ear as his hands worked their way across my back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
"Jackson," I murmured, weak with desire.
He silenced me with a kiss, his lips claiming mine. The door clicked shut as he turned the lock, sealing us in our forbidden world. That night, we gave in completely, crossing a line that could never be undone.
For weeks, our secret thrived in the shadows. Dickson was away on business, oblivious to the bond forming under his roof. But when he returned, the air shifted.
"You've settled in nicely," Dickson remarked one evening, his tone dripping with suspicion. "It seems you've even taken to bonding with my son."
I forced a smile. "I'm just adapting to the situation you forced me into."
Dickson's jaw tightened. "You'll forget that pathetic boyfriend of yours soon enough."
"Don't speak about him like that," I snapped. "You don't know him."
"Whatever." He waved me off and left the room.
Minutes later, Jackson knocked softly on my door.
"We'll have to be more careful now," he said, sitting beside me on the bed.
"Yes," I whispered. "But I'll miss you."
"We don't have to stop. We just need to be smarter," he insisted, leaning in for a kiss.
But then we heard it—a car horn blaring outside. Dickson was home. We pulled apart, panic coursing through us. Jackson slipped out of the room, his absence leaving a hollow ache in my chest.
Just as I tried to steady my breathing, Jackson returned with a strange expression. He sat beside me, his eyes darker than usual.
"Celine," he said softly, his voice trembling. "There's something I need to show you."
He held out his hand, and though hesitation clawed at me, I took it.
We stepped outside, and what I saw stole the breath from my lungs. My knees weakened, and a chill ran down my spine.
"Jackson," I whispered, my voice shaking. "What… what have you done?"