The two had done it quite a few tis, mostly in hotels, but it was their first ti in the kitchen.
The experience made Claire Shaw feel both curious and nervous, especially when his hand touched her tender skin, sparking a series of fireworks.
The small kitchen window was open, a breeze stirred her thin shirt, revealing the man’s arm with prominent veins.
His strong and dominant arm contrasted starkly against her tender pale skin.
With a "snap," Claire Shaw’s slipper fell to the floor, and the two suddenly parted.
Claire’s face was flushed to an outrageous degree, her fingers clutching his shirt, crumpling it.
"...Aren’t you hungry? I’ll cook the noodles for you first."
The man stared at her body with growing intensity, "I am hungry."
He leaned against Claire Shaw’s earlobe, his voice sexy and husky: "After we eat, will you sleep with ?"
Such straightforward words made Claire feel a bit embarrassed, she bowed her head, muttering a response: "Mm."
"Where’s the dicine box?"
"In the bedside table."
Ethan Blackwood hugged her down, as her feet touched the ground, Claire found herself a bit weak in the legs and stumbled, but the man held her just in ti.
She felt a bit embarrassed, who becos weak in the legs just from a man’s kiss!
She put on the fallen slipper and pushed the man away, "I’ll do it, you go out first."
The man was about to step away when she reached out and took hold of his wrist.
Ethan Blackwood looked down at her, the desire in his eyes calming, "Hm? What’s wrong?"
"Do you eat spicy?"
She didn’t realize, wearing an apron made her look like a demure little wife, especially with her fair little face looking clean and innocent.
Ethan Blackwood tucked the strand of hair beside her cheek behind her ear, "I do."
He then walked straight to the bedroom.
This was his second ti here, and this ti he rightfully entered her domain.
Claire Shaw’s bed wasn’t large, but it looked soft and slled nice, just like her.
Ethan Blackwood searched around, but there was no burn dicine in the dicine box, so he stood up and left.
Claire cald down, continued to light the fire and crackle the eggs into the pan.
She took out a handful of bok choy and scallions.
Her fair hands washed the bok choy and cut the scallions into segnts, adding so salt, soy sauce, and other seasonings.
The boiling water in the pot bubbled, she sprinkled in a handful of thin vermicelli noodles.
After ten minutes, she turned off the heat, lifted the noodles, sprinkled scallions on the white and green mixture, added a big spoon of spicy oil, and laid two fried eggs.
Though not a thousand-dollar steak from a Western restaurant, it was colorful, fragrant, and tasty, enough to whet anyone’s appetite.
Claire Shaw carried the bowl to the dining table, only to find the house already empty.
Ding-dong, the doorbell rang.
Claire Shaw stepped to the door, opened it, and the tall man walked in carrying two huge grocery bags.
In just twenty minutes, he’d swept through the supermarket, it was unbelievably quick.
"You... what’s this?"
"Picked up so groceries."
The man’s tie was long gone, his shirt unbuttoned at the top two buttons, sleeves rolled up revealing sturdy forearms.
This wasn’t the look of a domineering CEO.
Ethan Blackwood placed the bags on the floor and took out a pair of slippers to change into.
Claire Shaw intended to take the bags to the kitchen, but didn’t know what he’d bought. She couldn’t lift one bag with one hand.
Using both hands, she barely managed to pick it up.
"Let ."
A muscular arm appeared, effortlessly picking up the bag she could only lift with both hands, and didn’t forget to lift the other bag.
The two large packages seed like toys in his hands, it was the first ti Claire felt the stark difference in strength between n and won.
Opening the fridge, besides so facial masks and beer, there were only two tomatoes and a pitiful half bunch of bok choy hanging there.
Claire felt a bit embarrassed, cleared her throat slightly: "You eat first, I’ll tidy up."
Ethan Blackwood closed the fridge and went to the dining table, Claire felt a bit nervous.
After all, this privileged young master was used to Michelin chef als, could he get used to her simple noodle soup?
Miranda Shaw had enrolled her in culinary training just so she could marry into a wealthy family and be adept both in the kitchen and in social settings.
But even the clever housewife can’t cook without rice, these were the only ingredients at ho.
Once she had prepared a ho-cooked al for Owen Crawford, he had belittled her culinary skills under the guise of showcasing his ho:
"Claire, not that I’m saying, it doesn’t matter if you’re not good at cooking, since you’re with to enjoy life, we have cooks at ho, don’t make these kinds of dishes in the future."
He wasn’t tactful, implying that her ho-cooked dishes weren’t presentable.
Claire tried hard to please Ethan Blackwood for the orphanage’s sake.
"You ca at an unfortunate ti, I’ll cook for you once I’ve bought groceries next ti. Actually, I’m quite good at preparing Western food or sashimi dishes."
Her tone carried so lack of confidence, the man ate quickly but didn’t make any unpleasant noises.
He finished his al in a few minutes and even drank half a bowl of soup.
He wiped his lips clean before speaking: "These noodles are quite good."
Claire tried to see if there was any sincerity in his eyes, but the man pulled her into his embrace.
She instinctively tried to struggle.
"Don’t move."
Ethan Blackwood suddenly took out a burn ointnt and gently applied it on her blister.
"Hiss... it hurts..." Claire couldn’t help but let out a soft moan.
Reviews
All reviews (0)