27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

-Jared-

She still shook, avoiding my gaze, but her resistance couldn't change a thing. Every word I uttered was imbued with conviction. Alison was meant to be by my side, and no wavering on her part could alter that truth. No matter how hard she struggled to break free, I would always draw her back to me. There was a perverse satisfaction in this realization, knowing she was bound to me, with no escape in sight. Drawing her closer, I took pleasure in the certainty that she was mine to keep.

As her tears continued to flow silently, a soft sob escaping her lips, I continued to caress her skin.

"God, how I've missed this scent," I growled, inhaling deeply against her neck, causing her to tremble even more.

"J-Jared..."

"I could stay in this moment forever," I murmured, biting her skin, eliciting a soft whimper from her.

The sound quickened my pulse, and her trembling only fueled my anticipation. I found a twisted joy in witnessing her vulnerability. Yet, this time, I had to tread carefully with her. My urge to break her completely had vanished. Alison still needed to retain her essence. So, I restrained myself, content with teasing her skin, allowing her to feel me near. Though she continued to shake, I sensed a subtle shift in her—a reclaiming of control, a refusal to be governed by fear.

As I licked the mark I had left on her skin, she emitted another whimper, this one betraying her desires.

"You're not going anywhere, Alison," I whispered. "It's time to accept that."

"Y-You could still hurt me."

"I certainly could," I admitted, hearing her gasp. "I relish it when you plead for mercy. But as for your perfect little life, there's nothing left there for me to harm. It's all gone. Now, all you have is me."

She let out a frightened gasp, realizing the extent of her loss, and I felt her struggle against me.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

"No," I replied, pressing a kiss behind her ear, feeling her yield slightly to my embrace. Her body still craved me as intensely as ever, but her mind waged a new battle.

"Jared, release me."

"And where would you run to?" I taunted.

"I just want to be far away from you. I don't want you near me!"

"Is that why you're tilting your head to give me better access?" I teased, eliciting a groan from her. "Alison, stop fighting."

"No! I can't believe you would do all of that to me, or that you wouldn't tell me about the pregnancy."

"I intended to tell you, and really, is it so surprising that I wanted to strip everything away from you?" I questioned. "It's called payback for a reason."

"But what you wanted to do was—"

"Fair. It was fair, but I didn't do it, did I?" I questioned, noticing her struggle to swallow.

She gently shook her head. "No…"

"And we've already discussed that I don't care about that child. I fulfilled a duty, a duty that didn't even pay off, but I won't have anything to do with the kid," I promised.

"Until it's born…"

"What?"

"Until it's born," she repeated. "Until you actually hold the title of father and see the little one. I mean, isn't there a tiny part of you that desires to do better than your own parents?"

Her question was intriguing. It certainly offered a different perspective. But just because I desired to do better didn't guarantee I would succeed.

"I never saw a family in my future," I admitted.

"And now that there is a possibility you could have one?" she challenged.

"With Astrid?" I retorted, my disdain evident.

Alison sighed. "Despite Astrid. The kid would still be yours."

"Linking me to her forever. No, I have no desire to be linked to her."

"Really, Jared, think about it," she urged. "I mean, I could never…"

She trailed off, and I realized the true reason for her insistence on this subject and why it had upset her so much. She looked away from me, pressing her forehead to the door, while she remained trapped beneath me.

"Never mind…"

"You think I would want this family with Astrid more because she can get pregnant and not you?" I inquired.

She sighed deeply. "Sometimes people change once they meet their kid. I'm not saying it changes for everyone, but to some people it does, and as you have beautifully put it, I'm nothing now. I have nothing. I am all on my own. If you decide to discard me too, you would truly have succeeded in ruining me, and I will never stand again," she whispered.

Her words were laced with a deep fear, but to me, they only brought elation. I leaned closer, burying my nose in her hair and relishing her scent. She let out a small sob.

"I will not change my mind."

"You don't know that," she murmured.

"I want us out of here before that child even comes."

"Jared, it might happen before we even finish this."

"Then I need to work faster."

She shook her head, still skeptical, so I gently guided her chin to meet my gaze.

"I will not change my mind," I asserted, my tone unwavering.

"I already lost one husband because he wanted a family I couldn't give him," she confessed.

"Alison, don't ever compare me to that weakness. I refuse to let anyone dictate my choices anymore. Besides, what we share is different. I don't yearn for a family. I want something that's truly and wholly mine."

"WHICH IS A CHILD!" she exclaimed, surprising me with her intensity as tears continued to flow. "Being a parent never ends! Children provide a stability that some people crave. They bring with them a certainty, a promise of always mattering to someone."

"Some parents fail, and many end up alone despite it," I countered.

"But you're still a parent," she murmured softly.

"I think you're projecting your fears onto this. But if a family is truly what you desire, then once you're strong enough, perhaps we can work toward it," I suggested, my tone steady.

Alison blinked in confusion before meeting my gaze again. "W-What?"

"You want a family? You want to ensure I can't leave you? Then let's work toward it," I proposed confidently.

Her mouth fell open in disbelief, but I remained resolute.

"I-I can't…"

"Or perhaps you can. Some people have been told it's impossible, and then suddenly it happens. So once you're strong enough, say the word, and we'll begin," I urged, offering her a glimmer of hope.

"That's not funny," she hissed, turning her eyes away.

"Do I sound like I'm joking?"

"You just said you don't want a family."

"I will give you whatever you desire," I assured her, leaning closer to her ear. "And you cannot deny you've imagined it—a family with me."

She tensed, and I sensed a breakthrough. If Alison had harbored feelings for me since childhood, then surely she must have entertained visions of the white picket fence dream.

"How many children do we have, Alison?" I teased, almost hearing her gulp as I forced her to confront another vulnerable aspect of herself.

When she didn't respond, I gripped her hair, urging her to focus on me.

"Well?" I prodded.

"Two."

"Come on, you must have imagined more."

"Well, maybe I envisioned a third later on," she admitted.

"Good. What else? Do we have any daughters?"

She blushed, feeling foolish, but nodded as much as my hold allowed her to.

"One, maybe two if we decide on that third. But I want an older brother for her," she whispered. "Though I don't really mind their gender as long…"

She didn't need to complete the sentence. The unspoken words hung between us, but instead of letting it dampen the moment, we embraced it as part of our little game. It was a trick that brought Alison back to me, softening her resistance. And so, I continued, weaving our shared fantasies into a tapestry of hope.

"An older brother to protect her?" I prompted gently, and her eyes lit up with agreement.

"Where do we live?"

"Somewhere far away from here," she murmured softly.

"And you know I wouldn't let your parents near them, right? They wouldn't have grandparents."

"Good," she responded with a hint of relief. "I might struggle to say no to them."

"Well, that's where I come in. I'd firmly shut the door in your mother's face," I assured her with a smirk.

A small smile tugged at her lips, and I knew I was making progress.

"Are you still running your own company?" I asked, keeping the conversation light.

"Yes, but I'd take an extended leave once we have our first," she replied, her tone tinged with anticipation.

"Smart move. And what about me?" I inquired, genuinely curious about her vision.

"You're an artist, finally living out your own dream," she whispered, painting a vivid picture of our imagined future. "You'd insist on taking the kids to every art gallery, even if they got bored and started running around. But you'd just find it endearing, watching them with love in your eyes because they're ours."

I could see it all unfolding before me, the vibrant colors of our shared fantasy filling the room with warmth and possibility.

"I see you've thought it all through," I teased lightly before pressing a tender kiss to her cheek.

"But it's not real," she countered, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"That dream might not be, but nothing is truly impossible," I murmured reassuringly.

"I'm flawed…"

"No, you're just on a different path, like me. But that doesn't mean we can't make parts of that dream a reality," I insisted, meeting her gaze with unwavering determination.

"And you seemed to enjoy the idea too, which means a part of you wants it," she accused, a flicker of anger dancing in her eyes.