"Ah... uh... Nathan Moore, stop... Ah... please stop..."
Titus Zane kept writhing, trying to break free from Nathan Moore’s grip, but how could he easily escape the restraint of a sturdy and tall man?
If he could laugh at the beginning, now he was almost about to cry.
He was extremely ticklish.
Yet, that mischievous man showed no signs of stopping, his fingers playing on his body like a pianist’s on the keys.
With a teasing look in his eyes and muttering under his breath, ’No, I must make you laugh heartily...’
"Nathan Moore, I surrender, I’m wrong, I shouldn’t have joked about you..."
Titus Zane raised both hands, his robe already loosened, his brown wavy hair messily spread on the bed, his face flushed, and appeared bewildered.
Stopping his actions, Nathan Moore tightened his gaze and bit down hard on Titus Zane’s lip as punishment.
"See if you dare to have such a wicked sense of humor in the future!"
"I won’t dare, truly I won’t dare anymore."
Titus Zane was very sensible, still pressed down by Nathan Moore, his body sprawled across in a straddling position, his knees kneeling on either side, and his legs tightly clamped by him, making it hard to even move.
Hmph! With a cold snort, Nathan Moore slowly got off and moved next to Titus Zane, his long arm pulling him closer.
The two words carried a commanding tone, and Titus Zane really closed his eyes, corners of his lips curving up.
Wesley Foley was awakened by a scent drilling into his nostrils, the light smell of cooking oil, like the aroma of frying food at home.
Pale slender fingers rested on his forehead, massaging his throbbing temples while he kept his eyes closed, last night’s events replaying in his mind like a carousel.
Nathan Moore’s secretary was clearly trying to get him drunk, not even discussing work, with one goal in mind – drink!
If he hadn’t complied, he probably would have been forcibly made to drink.
The scent becomes stronger, reminded of that morning when Titus Zane made a simple breakfast, Wesley Foley actually felt hungry.
Throwing off the blanket, he got up and walked out of the bedroom to see the man focused on preparing breakfast in the kitchen, Wesley Foley was stunned.
The morning sun streamed through the balcony window casting a light over the entire kitchen. The tall, lean man stood in front of the stove, one hand gripping the frying pan, the other stirring with a spatula.
In the hazy glow of the light, the man’s figure was coated with gold, blurry yet upright, a pleasant sight to behold.
Wesley Foley admitted, in terms of appearance, he was no match for Nathan Moore; first of all, he was at a great disadvantage in terms of height.
His height of 178 cm, might not be considered short among men, but standing in front of a man who was 190 cm, he seemed much less imposing.
Narrowing his phoenix eyes, a smirk curling the corners of his lips, Wesley Foley slowly walked towards the kitchen.
Nathan Moore, still focused on preparing breakfast, heard footsteps and, thinking it was Titus Zane, lifted the corner of his lips and turned his eyes to look.
Seeing Wesley Foley, he didn’t seem surprised but instead nodded as if to greet him).
"What are you doing here?" Wesley Foley asked with a sullen face for this unexpected visitor in his apartment.
Nathan Moore smiled and said, "Sorry, Director Foley, I borrowed your place to make some breakfast for my sister-in-law, sorry for the disturbance!"
Even though he was apologizing, there was not a hint of regret on Nathan Moore’s face, and even a hint of provocation.
Initially he wanted to say he was preparing breakfast for his woman, but Nathan Moore knew what Wesley Foley was sensitive about, so he deliberately emphasized the relationship as "sister-in-law" to annoy him.
As expected, as soon as Nathan Moore finished speaking, Wesley Foley’s handsome face instantly darkened.