[Jay's POV]
The second morning of the winter break arrived not with the harsh light of reality, but with the soft, golden haze of a dream that refused to end.
The Blue Suite was a sanctuary of warmth. Outside, the winter wind was howling against the thick glass, but inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive linen and the intoxicating, citrusy musk that was uniquely Keifer. I was tangled in the sheets, my body practically fused to his. The "Watson-Jay Constant" had reached a level of physical proximity that defied all laws of personal space, and I didn't want to recalibrate a single millimeter of it.
Keifer was being a relentless menace.
He was propped up on one elbow, looking down at me with eyes that were dark, heavy with sleep, and dangerously affectionate. His hand was tracing the line of my jaw, his thumb brushing over my lower lip in a way that made my internal processors glitch.
"You know," he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent shivers down my spine. "According to my calculations, we haven't officially 'started' the day until I've kissed you at least fifty times. I believe I'm currently at... forty-two."
I let out a soft, breathless laugh, my hands sliding up his chest to lock behind his neck. "Your math is getting sloppy, Keifer. I count thirty-eight."
"A deficit?" He smirked, that arrogant, beautiful "Chill Prince" look returning. "Well, as an engineer, I can't allow an error like that to persist."
He leaned down, and the world narrowed to the sensation of his lips against mine. It started slow—a gentle, lingering contact that tasted like the morning—but it quickly evolved. Keifer wasn't just kissing me; he was devouring me. He moved from my lips to the sensitive skin of my neck, his breath hot against my ear, making me gasp and arch into him.
We were lost in a playful, heated battle of teasing and touch. I would nip at his shoulder, and he would respond by pulling me closer, his hands roaming over my back, pulling me so tightly against him that I could feel the frantic, heavy thud of his heart. We were "eating each other up," lost in the kind of romance that felt like it could power the entire estate.
"Keifer..." I managed to breathe out, my face flushed and my hair a chaotic mess against the pillows. "You're... distracting me. We're supposed to go... to breakfast."
"Breakfast can wait," he muffled against my collarbone, his fingers tangling in my hair. "I'm currently occupied with a much more important project."
He pulled back for a second, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my soul tremble. He leaned in for another deep, soul-searing kiss—one that felt like a promise—and for a moment, the rest of the world truly ceased to exist.
CRASH.
The heavy mahogany doors of the Blue Suite didn't just open; they were practically kicked off their hinges.
"KUYA! ATE! THE SNOW IS PERFECT FOR—"
The sentence died in the air as if it had hit a brick wall.
I froze. Keifer froze.
I didn't even look toward the door. My biological "fight or flight" instinct chose "hide," and I instantly buried my face into Keifer's chest, my hands clutching his shirt as if I could disappear into his ribcage. My face was burning with a 100% saturation of pure, unadulterated mortification.
In the doorway, Keigan and Keiran stood like statues.
Keigan, the sixteen-year-old, had eyes the size of dinner plates. He stood there for a micro-second, taking in the sight of his "Perfect Kuya" half-shirtless and tangled in the sheets with his fiancée in a state of very obvious, very heated romance.
"OH MY GOD!" Keigan yelped, his voice cracking spectacularly.
With a reflex that was surprisingly fast, Keigan reached out and slammed his hand over Keiran's eyes, spinning the eleven-year-old around toward the hallway.
"Hey! I want to see the snow plans!" Keiran protested, struggling against his brother's grip.
"YOU ARE SEEING NOTHING! EYES ON THE WALL, PIPSQUEAK!" Keigan roared. He didn't leave, though. He stayed in the doorway, his back turned to us, his own face a brilliant shade of red. "KUYA! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
"Keigan," Keifer's voice came out as a low, terrifying growl from above my head. He didn't let go of me; if anything, he pulled the duvet higher around us, shielding me from view. "I am going to count to three. If you and that gremlin are still in this room by the time I hit 'one,' I am going to make sure your boarding school stays open through the summer."
"DON'T THREATEN ME!" Keigan shouted back, though his voice was shaking with laughter and embarrassment. "YOU'RE THE ONE WHO DIDN'T LOCK THE DOOR! AGAIN! We're at home, Kuya! People live here! There are children! Innocent children like Keiran who are now scarred for life!"
"I'm not scarred!" Keiran's muffled voice came from behind Keigan's hand. "Are they kissing? Is it like the movies?"
"SHUT UP, KEIRAN!"
I stayed buried in Keifer's chest, my eyes squeezed shut. I could hear Keifer's heart hammering against my ear—partly from the romance, but now mostly from the pure, brotherly rage.
"Lock the door, you absolute dork!" Keigan yelled, finally pushing Keiran out into the hallway. "And put a shirt on! We'll be in the kitchen! Don't take another hour 'calculating'!"
The doors slammed shut with a reverberating thud.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of our ragged breathing. I slowly peeled my face away from Keifer's chest, looking up at him with wide, horrified eyes.
Keifer was staring at the closed door, his jaw tight, a single vein pulsing in his forehead. He looked down at me, and for a second, we just stared at each other. Then, the absurdity of it hit.
Keifer let out a long, defeated sigh and dropped his forehead against mine. "I am going to kill them. I am officially going to be an only child by noon."
"I told you," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mixture of leftover heat and new embarrassment. "I told you we should have locked it."
"I was busy!" he defended, a reluctant laugh breaking through his frustration. He rolled onto his back, dragging me with him so I was lying on top of his chest. He looked up at the ceiling and groaned. "How am I supposed to look them in the eye at breakfast? Keigan is going to hold this over me for the next fifty years."
"Fifty?" I teased, finally finding my voice as the shock began to wear off. "Keigan? He'll probably have it engraved on your tombstone. 'Here lies Keifer Watson. He forgot to lock the door.'"
Keifer laughed—a deep, rich sound that vibrated through my entire body. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. "Well, if my reputation is already ruined, I might as well make it worth it."
He leaned up to kiss me again, but I pressed my hand against his lips, giggling.
"No way, Prince. The 'Recovery Phase' is over. Put on a shirt. We have two very loud, very traumatized brothers waiting for us, and I think Mamma Serina is going to have a lot of questions about why the boys are currently hiding in the pantry."
Keifer groaned again, but he finally let me go, watching me with a look of pure adoration as I scrambled out of bed to find my robe.
The morning was no longer quiet, and the romance had been rudely interrupted, but as I looked at Keifer—messy-haired, frustrated, and completely mine—I realized that I didn't mind the chaos. The "Watson-Jay Constant" could handle a few burst doors.