I bit back the chuckle that threatened to escape my lips as I watched him work on the dough with such strength enough to make his vein pop on his hands. He'd lied. He might have a passion for cooking, but baking was not one of it. Still seeing the strength in that hand made my mind think of things one shouldn't while cooking. Especially when he adorned my pink apron around his frame. The sight should've been ridiculous but instead it only made my stomach queasy at how attractive he was.
My breath hitched as his eyes lifted from the counter and met with mine. The corner of his lips quirked, as if he'd caught on to my thoughts and I giggle at the sight of him. His brow lifted in amused confusion, his mouth curving ever so slightly. His reaction only made me giggle more, as I pointed to the mirror on the wall.
Confused, he turned towards the mirror, and I doubled over when he saw his face painted white by the flour. He looked ridiculously funny. Reaching out his arms, he tried to wipe it off but only made it more apparent. I enjoyed the seeing him like this. Not put up all together like he always was. What I enjoyed the most was seeing the embarrass look on his face.
Noticing me having the time of my life at his expense. Nick turned to me with narrowed eyes then he smirked. It was one dripping with confidence, the kind that sent a thrill racing through me. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he deliberately swiped more flour onto his cheek, like he was issuing a silent challenge.
I swallowed when he started treading towards me. His steps slow and deliberate like a man on mission. What was he up to? My heart pounded louder with every inch he erased between us, and he finally stopped Infront of me, I waited with batted breath. Was he going to color me white too? I wondered. I leaned back when he stepped into my personal space, close enough for a tremor ran through my chest. I arched a brow, feigning nonchalance, but he only offered me a wolfish grin, amusement dancing on his eyes.
"You said you a thing for color festival, right?" his voice was silk wrapped around the tension in the room, low and teasing cut through the silence in the room.
"Y-yes," I stammered, my voice somehow hoarse. His was so close that one move would make our chest touch and it was impossible to think straight. At my answer, he leaned even closer, his face barely a breath from mine, and suddenly breathing became difficult. My eyes automatically closed tightly. One to try not lean into him and second because I was expecting him to smear flour on my face but instead, a gasp got caught in my throat when I felt his cheek brushing against mine, the roughness of the subtle roughness of his skin sending an electric jolt straight through my spine.
I barely had time to register the sensation before he pulled back—only to tilt his head and graze the other side of my face just as slowly, just as deliberately. My grip on the counter tightened. My lips parted, but I bit down on them, swallowing back the sound that threatened to escape.
Nick's caress was unhurried, torturous and teasing, leaving me lightheaded and dazed. And just as I started to lean in on the pleasure he pulled away, leaving me wanting more. The loss of contact was instant and maddening.
Blinking the haziness away, I opened my eyes to find him watching me. His face was dripping with smugness; eyes filled with laughter like he knew what he just did.
"Now we're even." he said, utterly pleased on himself. I was confused for a moment before my eyes widened at realization. I pushed myself from the counter and rushed towards the mirror. My both cheeks were covered with white identical smudged flour from his cheek.
"Oh, you did not just do that," I tutted, watching his grin faltered when I lunged for the bowl of flour and scooped a generous handful
"You want color festival? So colored you'll get." I declared, giving him no time to react before I flung it straight at him.
A cloud of white exploded around him. A cough followed, then came his flailing hands as the dust began to settle. Laughter tumbled out of me, uncontrollable at the sight of his pale, ghostly appearance.
"Oh, you'll pay for that." he growled. I yelped and dart aways as fast as I could when he grabbed a handful of the flour and started chasing me. I ran and dodged around the kitchen occasionally scoping another handful and trying to fight back.
"No—wait!" I squealed as he unleashed a flour storm over me. His laughter rang out, deep and unrestrained, mixing with mine as the powder cloud swallowed us both. Shrieks and squeals filled the air as we battled, the kitchen turning into a snowy warzone. I tried to dodge, blindly waving my hands in defense, but it was useless—I was already dusted head to toe like some ghost of mischief past.
"Not my hair!" I cried, trying to dodge, blindly waving my hands in defense, but it was useless—I was already dusted head to toe. Flour rained down, sinking into my scalp, momentarily stealing my focus.
Big mistake.
"Found you." Nick's voice was suddenly too close and before I could react, his strong arms wrapped around me from behind, trapping me against his chest.
"Cheater!" I gasped breathlessly trying to free myself off him.
He only chuckled, his grip firm as he leaned next to my ear. "How did I cheat?" Goosebumps erupted along my arms, uninvited shiver running down my spine.
"By… by throwing flour in my hair," I stammered, fighting the urge to dissolve in his arms. Boy, this guy had the firmest chest. "You know hair it's like a woman's crown."
Nick hummed, making his chest vibrate. "One shouldn't be distracted on a battlefield," he mused. "And now you are." I did not get time to process his comment when his hand swiped across my face, smearing even more flour. It was quick and unexpected that I gasped. Wrong move because in the process, I inhaled a mouthful of it.
A violent cough wracked through me as the fine powder clogged my throat and nostrils, my eyes instinctively squeezing shut. My vision was nothing but a bright blur, flour coating my lashes and leaving me effectively blind.
Nick's victory laughter cut off abruptly. "Shit—wait, are you okay?"
His arms released me followed by a clatter of hurried footsteps. Warm hands were on me, steadying me as he pressed a glass to my lips. I took a grateful sip, blinking furiously, but my vision remained clouded.
"That's rich coming from the man who nearly suffocated me," I rasped, my voice hoarse but light.
I heard him exhale. "So, you're alright then."
I scowled—at least, I thought I did. "I can't see, you idiot!" I couldn't bring myself to open my mouth with how caked I was. He chuckled. "Alright, alright, let's fix that. Hold still, Snow White."
Before I could ask what to hold unto, strong hands settled on my waist. "W-what are you doing?" I stammered, pulse kicking in.
"Helping you." he answered. With no effort at all, he lifted me off the flour-covered floor. A surprised squeal escaped me as my hands instinctively flew to his shoulders for balance. Before I could process it, he had already settled me gently onto the counter, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.
Thirty seconds into him wiping my face, he still hadn't touched my eye area, and I had an inkling that he was doing it on purpose. He continued to drag the cloth across my jaw, down my neck, across my nose—never once wiping my lashes or lids.
I frowned. "Nick…"
"Hm?" His voice was innocent, too innocent.
"You're not wiping my eyes." I reminded him.
His thumb brushed over my chin in response, the cloth following, still nowhere near the one place I actually needed it. "I still can't see!" I let out an exasperated sigh.
"You're just too cute like this." he said followed by his low timbre chuckle.
"You're messing with me." I shot back, though my voice betrayed the flutter in my chest. I knew it.
"Maybe." His voice dropped into a husky whisper, awakening a garden of butterflies in my stomach.
His movements were torturously slow, each one deliberate, as if savoring the moment. With my eyes closed, every sound and touch felt heightened, raw and vulnerable.
I let an audible tired sigh, pouting at him teasing me though I was enjoying it. Nick movements stilled for a minute, and I wondered what was happening. I tried to open my eyes, but the flour entered my eyes making me wince. That was able to rid of the silence.
Nick caught my hand, his warning, I struggled to free my hand. He swiftly seized both of my hands and place them on his shoulders. His fingers delicately pried open my eye, and he blew lightly to dislodge the flour. His warm breath caused my eyes to water even more, prompting a series of blinks.
"Is it okay? Let me clean them for you," he offered softly, wiping my eyes with the towel.
His touch was slow, deliberate—rough fingertips brushing against my cheek as he wiped away the flour. I stilled when I felt his thumb traced the curve of my jaw, lingering at the corner of my lips. I swallowed hard, my pulse starting to pick up.
"You're a mess," he murmured, his voice low.
My nerves tightened at how close he was to me. I tried to stay composed, to think of anything but him—anything but the way he was standing between my thighs, his body heat seeping into mine, it was hard. I had my eyes closed again, but I could feel him. Every inch. Every breath.
My grip unconsciously tightened on his shoulders. I wanted to say something, anything as the air continued to thickened with tension enough to slice off with a knife. His one hand remained at my waist, while the other lingered at the corner of my lips. It was barely a whisper of a touch, yet impossible to ignore.
My throat and lips went dry, a heat curling low in my stomach. I slowly parted them, intending to say something, anything, but no words came. Instead, my tongue flicked out, wetting my lips instinctively.
His breath hitched and the hand on my waist tightened. My heart pounded as I waited with batted breath wondering what he was thinking. Or maybe I was thinking. Before I could spiral in my thoughts, I heard him curse and the next thing, something warm sealed my lips.
Everything came to a halt, my brain frozen and taking seconds to process what was happening. Sure, it couldn't...he wouldn't...but the heat, the softness, the sheer electricity that zapped through my veins in overdrive couldn't be my imagination. Ever since meeting Nick I have imagined this moment a hundred times over, fantasized about what it would feel like—his lips on mine, his body this close—but never did I expect it to happen now.
The kiss was soft at first, uncertain almost like he was testing to see if I'll pull away. To stop but why would I do that? My hand on his shoulder tightened and I pulled him closer and that was all he needed. His hand settled on my waist, pulling me flush against him, stealing the breath right from my lungs. His other hand, the one that had been lingering at the corner of my lips, now slid into my hair, fingers threading through my flour socked braids as he angled my head deepen the kiss. It was everything I dreamt of, even better than my imagination.
A low, guttural sound rumbled from his chest as his tongue swept against mine, tasting, claiming. I gasped against his mouth, and he took full advantage, pressing closer, his body heat sinking into me, setting fire to every inch of my skin.
I clung to him, fingers curling against his shoulders and I melted into his touch. He kissed me like he too has been waiting for this moment. Like he had been starving for this just as much as I had. Each kiss, each stroke of his tongue, stole my breath, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in my stomach.
I should have been thinking, questioning how we got here, what this meant. But I couldn't. Not when he was kissing me like this—like he never wanted to stop. And God help me; I didn't want him to.
He tasted like fresh mint and dark chocolate—just like him. The sweetness of it was unparalleled, intoxicating, and I wanted more. If it were possible to consume his very soul, I would have.
The feelings rushing in my blood was insane. My lungs burned, constricting from a lack of oxygen, but I couldn't pull away. Just as the dizziness began to set in, his lips left mine, trailing down to my jaw, then lower, pressing soft, lingering kisses to my jugular. It was as if he had sensed my shortness of breath, easing his pace, but not the intensity. My spine tingled at the featherlight touch, and a deep, smoldering heat unfurled inside me.
"Can I?" His voice—hoarse, raspy—ghosted over my ear, as he tugged on my top. But all the words and reasons were lost into his lips, his touch. I knew we had to stop. I knew I should push him away, put an end to this madness before it spiraled into something I wasn't ready for. But Nick was too skilled. Too intoxicating. Too much. A loud moan echoed from my mouth when I felt his open mouth kiss on my neck. The tension a lot, sent a tremor down my torse making them curl with pleasure I never knew existed.
His hands slipped beneath my shirt, his touch searing against my skin, sending a delicious ache down my spine. My body arched instinctively, chasing the heat, craving more, needing more. But just then a sharp beep shattered the moment, breaking whatever spell had wrapped around us.
It was like a bucket of cold water was splashed on me and I quickly pushed Nick away. The oven. It was the Oven. It took every ounce of willpower to blink and whirl me back to reality. From the haze of lust and passion we were cocooned in. My feet hit the floor as I slid off the counter, my legs trembling beneath me. I almost fell from how boneless they were until Nick grabbed my hand.
"Are you okay?" He asked. Huskiness still laced his voice.
Was I okay? Absolutely not. As reality slowly dawned on me, shame washed over me like a nemesis. I had just kissed someone I barely knew. Let him touch me like he had every right to. I knew we were both adults, but I did not want him to see me as the type of girl who would kiss any man.
I needed to get out of here. I needed space to think and analyze everything.
Four days. I only knew him for four days. What the hell did I just do?