บททั้งหมดของ Aria: Scales of Love: บทที่ 161 - บทที่ 170

Jude POVHolding her again was like breathing for the first time in months. The world, which had been a dull, monotonous gray, suddenly snapped into vibrant, breathtaking color. Her weight in my arms, the soft scent of her hair, the gentle rhythm of her breathing against my chest—it was everything. It was a homecoming I hadn’t dared to let myself hope for. I buried my face in her hair, my eyes closed, just trying to memorize the feeling, to etch this moment into my soul so I could never lose it again.We sat in a comfortable silence for what felt like an eternity, the quiet lapping of the lake against the shore the only sound that mattered. It was a silence filled with everything we had left unsaid, a silence that was slowly, surely being filled with a new, fragile hope.I pulled back just enough to look down at her, my hand still cupping her cheek, my thumb stroking the soft skin there. In the dim moonlight, her eyes were luminous, the tracks of her tears now gone, replaced by a soft,

Jude POVThree and a half years later.The roar of the crowd was a physical force, a deafening, electric wave that vibrated through the soles of my cleats and up into my bones. One minute left on the clock. We were down by five. The stadium lights were a blinding glare, the air thick with the tension of eighty thousand people holding their breath. This was it. This was the moment I had dreamed of since I was a kid, throwing a worn-out football in my backyard with my dad.My eyes scanned the chaos, not for a receiver, but for a face. For the one person who mattered. And I found her. Up in the student section, a sea of orange and blue, a small, unmistakable figure in my old varsity jacket, her hands clasped in front of her mouth, her eyes wide with a terror and a hope that mirrored my own. Aria. Just seeing her was like a jolt of lightning, a surge of pure, unadulterated strength.“Hurry up, hurry up!” I yelled, clapping my hands, my voice a sharp, commanding bark that cut through the ch

Jude POVOne year later.The Florida sun was a warm, gentle caress, a stark contrast to the oppressive, humid heat of my first few months here. I sat in a folding chair in the stands, the roar of the crowd a familiar comfort, but today, it felt like background noise. My attention wasn’t on the field; it was on the sleeping bundle in my arms. Louis, or Louie as Marco insisted on calling him, stirred slightly, his tiny fist clenching and unclenching against my jersey. He was so small, so perfect, a tangible, breathing piece of the woman I loved more than my own life.My son. The words still sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated joy through my heart. He was a little piece of Aria and me, a living, breathing testament to the love we had fought so hard to reclaim. I looked different now, the boyish charm replaced by a quiet, confident maturity. I was a professional football player, a rising star in the pro league. But as I sat here, holding my son, I was still just Jude. The boy who had stolen

Jude POVThe sun began its slow, lazy descent, painting the sky in brilliant strokes of orange and pink. The energy that had fueled our children all day was finally waning, replaced by a heavy, sleepy-eyed contentment. Louis was practically asleep on his feet, his head lolling against my shoulder as I carried him back to the suite, his little body limp and trusting. Chloe, ever the determined one, was still trying to walk, but her steps were slow and clumsy, her small hand wrapped tightly around Aria’s finger.“I think someone’s ready for a nap,” Aria said, her voice a soft, tired murmur, a small, fond smile playing on her lips.“I think two someones are,” I replied, my voice a low, gentle rumble. I nudged our hotel suite door open with my foot, the cool, air-conditioned air a welcome relief from the humid, salt-laced breeze outside.The next half hour was a familiar, well-practiced dance of bedtime rituals. We got them cleaned up, their sandy, salty skin scrubbed clean in the giant b

Jude POVHer body was a masterpiece of soft curves and trembling muscles, a canvas painted with the sweat of our exertion. I watched her face as she came down from her high, her eyes fluttering open, a dazed, sated look in their depths that made my chest swell with a primal, possessive pride. She was so fucking beautiful like this. Wrecked. Ruined. Mine.I was still buried inside her, and the feeling was so exquisite, so right, that I had no intention of ever leaving. My cock, instead of softening in the aftermath, was still rock-hard, a testament to the insatiable hunger she ignited in me. A decade with this woman, and I was still like a fucking teenager around her. More, even.“Jude,” she breathed, her voice a soft, awed whisper, her walls fluttering around me. “You’re still…”A slow, predatory grin spread across my face. “Oh, baby,” I growled, my voice a low, rough murmur. “We’re not even close to being done.”I rolled us over, my body covering hers, my weight a familiar, comfortin