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Tangled in Desire

Zara's eyes were glued to Xavier's bare chest, unable to look away. The sculpted muscles, the deep V-line, the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips—she couldn't help but be captivated. It was as if her brain had short-circuited, and all logic had left her. She moved a step closer, almost unconsciously, her hand lifting as if to touch his chest. Before her fingers could make contact, Xavier's quick reflexes caught her wrist. His grip was firm, but not harsh, and he raised an eyebrow, looking at her with an amused expression. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice low but laced with a hint of teasing. Zara, startled but determined not to show weakness, scratched the back of her head awkwardly, trying to save face. "What do you mean? Why are you walking around shirtless?" she countered, trying to shift the focus off herself. Xavier's smirk deepened, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. "I'm not the one sneaking around in other people's rooms, Zara. You're the one who barged in here." Zara blinked, her mind scrambling to find an excuse. "Oh, right," she muttered, still not sure how to explain her behavior. She gave him a sheepish grin, but her eyes darted back to his chest, trying to look casual. "I was just… looking for something," she said, her words trailing off as she tried to think of a better lie. Xavier didn't buy it for a second. Slowly, he took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Zara instinctively took a step back, but Xavier followed, not giving her any space to escape. Her heart raced as she backed up again, trying to keep some distance between them, but Xavier wasn't making it easy. "Trying to run away now?" Xavier teased, his voice laced with playful challenge. He moved another step forward, and Zara continued retreating, her back now against the wall. Her breath hitched as she realized she had nowhere else to go. "I wasn't trying to run away," Zara said quickly, her voice a little too high-pitched. "Just, you know, I… I don't want to intrude. I just—"  But Xavier wasn't interested in her stammering excuses. His gaze remained locked on her, and as he stepped closer, his hand that had caught her wrist slowly slid down to her fingers, brushing against her skin. The gentle touch sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. Zara's heart hammered in her chest, and she took another step back, this time bumping into the wall with a soft thud. She couldn't help but feel the heat building between them, the tension so thick it was almost palpable. Xavier, now mere inches from her, tilted his head, his lips curling into a playful grin. "I think you're lying," he murmured, his voice soft, but full of mischief. "You were trying to touch my chest, weren't you?" Zara's face flushed with heat, and she tried to push back against him, but it was like trying to move a mountain. She cleared her throat, trying to recover some of her composure. "Maybe I was," she admitted, her voice low. "But, um… so what? It's not like you're making it easy to ignore." Xavier's grin widened as he leaned even closer, his body just inches away from hers. The closeness was overwhelming, and Zara's mind started to spin. She could feel the heat radiating off his chest, and she had to fight the urge to reach up and touch it again. "Is that so?" Xavier whispered, his breath warm against her ear. He placed his hand on the wall beside her head, trapping her in place as he stared down at her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You sure about that?".

Paula_y2k · 现代言情
分數不夠
64 Chs

Chapter 33: The Kitchen Disaster

Zara's stomach rumbled again, reminding her that she was still hungry. She had already spent a good amount of time unpacking, and the relaxing bath hadn't fully satisfied her hunger. She decided to check the kitchen and see if she could whip up something to eat.

The problem? Zara was far from what you'd call a chef. In fact, the only thing she knew how to cook were instant noodles, but sadly, there were none in the kitchen. With a sigh, she decided to use her "imagination" and attempt something more ambitious. She pulled out her phone, found a YouTube tutorial on how to make spaghetti and meatballs—close enough to instant noodles in her book—and set to work.

As she chopped vegetables with a knife, she found herself distracted by the video, attempting to follow along as best as she could. But in her distracted state, the knife slipped, and she accidentally sliced her hand. The sharp sting of pain hit her instantly, and she hissed as she saw the blood oozing from the wound. She quickly pulled her hand away and tried to stifle the discomfort.

Xavier, who had been lounging on the sofa with his phone, glanced over at the sound. He didn't even look up from his screen. He didn't really know what Zara was doing—he only saw her back as she faced the kitchen counter. As long as she didn't burn the house down, he didn't care much.

Zara winced again, this time from the pain, and hurried to the sink. She turned on the faucet, running cold water over her hand to rinse off the blood. The sight of it made her feel a bit lightheaded, but she quickly snapped out of it. With her hand still stinging, she wrapped it in a dish towel and walked back to her room to look for a first-aid kit.

Her room was tidy, but she wasn't exactly a fan of unnecessary clutter, so she had to dig around a bit before finding what she needed. She had always been independent and used to caring for herself. It wasn't the first time she'd had to patch herself up. Sitting down on her bed, she managed to clean the wound, apply ointment, and wrap it with a bandage—using only one hand, of course. She couldn't help but shake her head at herself, mentally scolding her for being careless.

After a moment of gathering herself, Zara sighed and returned to the kitchen, determined to continue with the meal despite the setback. She was fully aware that the outcome would likely be a disaster, but at least she was giving it a shot.

She muttered to herself as she stirred the sauce, recalling how her mom used to encourage her to learn how to cook, always telling her that it was an essential skill. Zara had never really taken her advice seriously, but now, standing in the kitchen with a bandaged hand and an impending culinary catastrophe, she found herself regretting it.

Her mother had been right. Zara should have learned how to cook.

"Guess this is what I get," she muttered under her breath as she turned to Xavier, who was still glued to his phone, barely noticing her presence.