"Morning..." In a single word, spoken in a low and husky voice, Titus Zane’s body stiffened, dropping the ladle he was holding.
However, the hand wrapped around his waist reached forward, grabbed the handle of the spatula again, lifting it into her hand, then his slender fingers wrapped around her hand, gripping the spatula together, and flipped the fried egg in the skillet.
Throughout the process, Titus Zane was rigid, feeling the man’s fiery chest pressed against his back, and that burning breath scattered over his ear and the side of his face...
When Wesley Foley grasped her hand to fry the egg together, she could distinctly feel his lips unintentionally brushing over her skin, ticklish, creating a flustered sensation.
In a bewildered moment, by his ear, Wesley Foley’s warm voice rang out again, carrying a smile, seemingly intentionally lowered, very magnetic, "So virtuous..."
Even with professional training and abundant experience in dealing with men, he was still stiff, unsure how to react.
His dangling hand unwittingly coiled up, the hand Wesley Foley was holding, also grasping the handle of the spatula, seemed to want to squeeze water out of the spatula.
Not for any other reason, but because the chest pressed against his back was not exactly muscular, but he didn’t dislike it, though not particularly fond of it, he really didn’t resist it.
Wesley Foley was different from the men she had encountered before; with those men, Titus Zane could easily chat and flirt with them, maneuvering through the conversations.
But the man behind him was really different from those men; those men thought with their lower half, while the one behind, thought with his heart...
A low laughter sounded, entering his ears, low and magnetic, even his back could feel his chest vibrating.
His waist tightened, Wesley Foley led him to turn around, the two faces confronted each other, Titus Zane’s expression slightly flustered, while the latter, the refined handsome face had a rich smile.
Lifting his hand, slender fingers pinched Titus Zane’s nostril, gently twisting, Wesley Foley spoke with a tone of helplessness, "You!"
This minor teasing already scared him .
Titus Zane lowered his gaze, even more at a loss. The ringtone from his phone conveniently tucked in the apron pocket rang just in time, breaking the awkward atmosphere.
"Sorry, I have to take this call."
In his flurry, Titus Zane didn’t even check who the caller was, hurriedly answered it, and then walked towards the living room.
"Are you up?" On the phone, the man’s low magnetic voice was very gentle, penetrating deep into his ears, and then flowed smoothly along his ear canal, calming Titus Zane’s flustered heart.
"Nathan Moore?" Excited, Titus Zane directly called out Nathan Moore’s name, with a tone of surprise, as though grasping a lifeline.
He completely forgot that in the kitchen behind, there was a second presence.
If Wesley Foley’s voice made him nervous and wanting to escape, then Nathan Moore’s had a calming effect, like finding a sheltered harbor, where his uneasy heart also settled down.
Just like now, calling Nathan Moore’s name, even his full lips unwittingly curved upwards.
The smile on Wesley Foley’s face gradually faded away at Titus Zane’s calling, his hand holding the spatula, his gaze turning, his phoenix eyes gradually narrowing, as if probing or pondering something.
In the airport terminal, Nathan Moore held the phone to his ear with one hand, another hand tucked in his trouser pocket, standing in front of the large glass door, his lips curled with a warm arc, even lifting his long leg and kicking the Marble floor beneath him.
And he said, "I am here," not, "It’s me."