That night, the house finally quiet, Keifer pulled Jay into his room.
The moment the door closed, he didn't say a word.
He just kissed her.
Hard.
Hungrily.
Like he'd been holding back for months—no, years.
Jay froze at first, then melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Their lips moved together, slow at first, then faster, more desperate.
Every kiss was a release of tension, of longing, of all the moments they'd been denied.
By the time they finally broke apart…
Jay's lips were pink, lightly swollen, and aching.
She touched them gently, frowning.
"Keifer… look what you did to me," she said, pouting.
"You've made my lips all… sore and swollen!"
Keifer's lips twitched into a mischievous grin.
He leaned in close, voice low and teasing.
"Mm… maybe that's the point," he murmured, brushing his thumb over her lips.
"So you'll remember who kissed you like that."
Jay laughed softly, swatting his chest lightly.
"You're impossible," she said, still a little breathless.
Keifer just smirked, pulling her closer.
"Only for you," he whispered, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to her swollen lips.
"And you'll never let me forget it, will you?"
Jay shook her head, smiling against him.
"No… I think I'll enjoy blaming you for it."
Keifer chuckled, resting his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath.
"Good," he said, voice low, warm, and full of promise.
"Because I plan to do it again."
And in that moment, the world outside—the anger, the chaos, the judgment—didn't exist.
It was just them.
Their love.
And every stolen, perfect, messy kiss.