Loving Madeline

Chapter 374: To Be His Again

Charlotte’s POV

I didn’t want to feel this way—but I couldn’t help it. Jealousy curled inside me like smoke, slow and suffocating. I hated myself for it. I had no right. Not anymore. Jack and I were over.

I woke away and made that decision the day I found out his big lie. And yet, there he was. Sitting just a few seats away, laughing with our friends, stealing glances when he thought I wouldn’t notice.

But I noticed.

And the more I drank, the less I cared. The liquor burned going down, but it numbed the ache in my chest. Made everything hazy, lighter. As if I could float above the mess inside my heart.

The music started, loud and rhythmic, and the others pulled me toward the dance floor. I let them. I needed to lose myself—just for a while. I laughed louder than I normally would, swayed more freely, feeling the weight of my heartbreak melt into the pulsing beat.

That’s when he joined me.

Jack.

My ex. The man who once whispered promises into my skin and then crushed my heart after I found out his biggest lie.

I should’ve walked off the dance floor. I should’ve pushed him away. But I didn’t.

The alcohol whispered lies of freedom in my ear, and I leaned into him. We danced. Close. Too close. His hand brushed my waist, and I didn’t flinch. His breath hovered near my neck, and I didn’t step back.

I flirted. I laughed. I let my fingers graze his chest like I didn’t remember how it felt to have my heart broken by that very touch.

I told myself it was just the liquor. Just a mistake.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

The attraction never left.

I hated him for what he did—for the lies, the betrayal, the nights I cried alone in silence—but that didn’t erase the memories. It didn’t erase the nights we made love like the world outside didn’t exist, or the mornings I woke up with his arms tangled around me like I was the only thing he wanted to hold onto.

And in that moment, under flashing lights and reckless laughter, I didn’t know if I wanted to punish him or fall into him all over again.

Maybe both.

"How do you like Paris?" Jack asked, his voice low and rough near my ear. I could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting against my neck, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. I knew I should have stepped away—but I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, closing the distance between us.

"I love this place," I murmured, my voice softer than I intended, my lips dangerously close to his jaw. A playful, seductive smile tugged at my lips as we continued to move in rhythm, our bodies perfectly in sync. The music, the lights, the city that glittered just beyond the windows—it all blurred into the background. All I could feel was him.

Tonight, I didn’t want to think about the heartbreak or the lies. I didn’t want to remember the pain after he shattered my heart. I just wanted to pretend he was still mine.

Just for a little while.

"Me too," he said, his gaze lingering on my face. "Do you want to stay for a couple more days? Tour Paris with me?"

I hesitated for only a heartbeat. "I’d love that," I answered, the words slipping past my lips before I could second-guess them. I pushed aside the voice in my head—the one that warned me not to fall back into him, not to reopen wounds that had barely begun to heal. Tonight, I didn’t want logic. I wanted us.

Jack reached for my hand, his fingers gently threading through mine, and I didn’t pull away. It felt too right. Too familiar. The way our hands fit together, the warmth of his touch—it was all a painful reminder of what we once had. And what I hadn’t stopped wanting.

"Shall we go?" he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, sending my heartbeat into a frenzy.

And without a second thought—without a shred of resistance—I nodded.

Because in that moment, all I wanted was to be with him.

Even if it was a mistake.

Even if it would hurt in the morning.

Right now, it felt like a piece of my heart was finally being held again.

We were laughing as we stumbled out of the bar, the sound of it echoing through the quiet Parisian street like a secret only the night could hold. The cool evening breeze kissed my skin, sending a shiver down my spine as it danced across my bare shoulders. Jack reached for my hand, and I laced my fingers through his without hesitation.

We walked side by side beneath the silver glow of the moon, our shadows stretching ahead of us as if they too were eager to chase the night. There was something magical about that moment—like time had paused just long enough to give us a chance to pretend nothing had ever gone wrong between us.

The walk back to the hotel felt like seconds, though I knew the street was longer than it seemed. Maybe it was the tequila, maybe the way his thumb traced circles against the back of my hand... or maybe it was the way my heart had finally stopped resisting. For once, I allowed myself to let go of all the reasons why this shouldn’t happen—all the warnings, all the heartbreak—and just focused on now.

I had definitely had more to drink than I should have, but strangely, I was grateful for it. The alcohol softened the sharp edges of my thoughts, quieted the voice in my head that always told me to run, to protect myself. Tonight, it gave me the courage to be honest—with him and with myself.

The moment the elevator doors slid shut behind us, Jack turned toward me with a look that made my pulse stutter.

And then he kissed me.

He didn’t ask. He didn’t hesitate.

His mouth captured mine with a hunger that stole the breath from my lungs, and my body responded before my brain had the chance to object. I melted into him, my hands finding his chest, his jaw, his hair—anything to ground me in the heat of the moment.

His lips were warm and familiar, yet the kiss felt different—like something desperate and urgent had crept into it. We kissed until my head spun and my lungs screamed for air, until I forgot we were in an elevator, until all I could think about was the way his hands held me like I was something fragile and precious and lost all at once.

I was faintly aware of the elevator moving, the soft dinging of passing floors, but we didn’t stop. I didn’t want to.

By the time we reached our floor, I was breathless, flushed, and dizzy—not just from the wine or the kiss, but from the overwhelming wave of wanting him. Wanting this.

I was thankful we’d been alone in that small space because we were tangled in each other, lips swollen, breathing uneven, and I wasn’t sure I could have endured any curious stares without bursting into flames.

We stepped into the hallway, our hands still clasped, our eyes filled with something we didn’t dare name.

And as I followed him to the room, my heart pounded with one undeniable truth—

I wasn’t ready to face the consequences.

But I wasn’t ready to let him go either.

Not tonight.

He unlocked the door without letting go of my hand, and the moment it swung open, he pulled me gently inside as if afraid even a second apart would break whatever spell had woven itself between us.

The door clicked shut behind us, and before I could catch my breath, his lips found mine again—hungry, urgent, and full of everything we hadn’t said. I kissed him back with the same intensity, my hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to make sure this wasn’t just another illusion I’d wake up from.

We moved together with the ease of old lovers and the desperation of two people trying to reclaim something lost. We stumbled toward the bed, laughter and kisses tangled between us, until my knees hit the edge of the mattress and we fell into it like falling into memory.

He began to undress me slowly, his fingers trailing over my skin as though relearning every part of me. I didn’t protest. I didn’t hesitate. My breath caught in my throat as I reached for him, my hands eager to do the same. There was a thrill in it, a heat that built beneath my skin, but it wasn’t just desire—it was something deeper. Something aching and familiar.

In mere seconds, the distance between us vanished completely. Clothes fell away. Barriers faded.

And there we were—bare, vulnerable, real.

Each kiss, each touch sent ripples through me, awakening everything I thought I had buried. The way his hands moved over my body, the way he whispered my name like it was something sacred—it all pulled me back to the past. To late nights and whispered promises. To the warmth of his body beside mine when the world outside didn’t matter.

But tonight felt different, too. It was more urgent and fragile.

Like we both knew this might not last, but needed it to happen anyway.

As we tangled beneath the sheets, breathless and tangled in passion, I let myself forget the pain and the lies, and forget the heartbreak.

And for one night, I allowed myself to remember what it felt like to be his again.