Chapter 3 Temptation In The Kitchen

• The house was silent, the kind of quiet that settled deep into the bones. Celia had tossed and turned for what felt like hours, her thoughts whirling. She couldn’t sleep. The weight of the day, the overwhelming feeling of being in Alexander’s mansion, and the constant battle between desire and restraint had left her restless.
• When she glanced at the clock on the nightstand, she groaned. It was past midnight, and she was wide awake. A snack. That was all she needed—a quick distraction to ease her mind.
• Slipping out from under the covers, she pulled on the oversized shirt she’d borrowed from Alexander. It was far too large on her, the sleeves hanging low over her hands and the hem falling just past her thighs. But it was comfortable, and more importantly, it smelled like him—musky cologne and something deeply masculine that made her pulse quicken every time she breathed it in.
• She tiptoed through the dark hallways, her feet light against the cool floors. The soft glow from a nightlight cast long shadows, making her feel like a secret intruder in the mansion. It was almost as if the house itself was watching her, its vast rooms and empty spaces holding a thousand unspoken rules.
• Reaching the kitchen, Celia flicked on the light and opened the refrigerator. The cool air rushed out as she surveyed the contents—fruit, cheese, a bottle of wine—and her gaze landed on the small bowl of leftover pasta. It would do. She grabbed it and placed it in the microwave, leaning against the counter while she waited for it to heat up.
• Her thoughts wandered, as they always did when she was alone. She thought about the day’s moments—the way Alexander had looked at her when he showed her to her room, the casual way he’d dismissed her concerns as if everything was already decided. He had been kind, but distant. Detached. And it frustrated her.
• Why does it always have to be like this? she wondered. Why can’t he see me for who I am?
• Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, a soft thud that grew louder until the shadow of a figure appeared in the doorway. Celia’s heart skipped a beat as she spun around to see him standing there.
• Alexander.
• He stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the dim light from the hallway. He was still dressed in his casual clothes—dark jeans and a T-shirt that fit snugly across his broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular arms. There was an almost predatory grace to his movements as he stepped into the kitchen, his gaze flicking to Celia before he gave her a casual nod.
• “Couldn’t sleep either?” His voice was low, but there was a certain warmth to it, as if the late hour had loosened some of the formality between them.
• Celia felt a strange sense of being caught off guard, though she shouldn’t have. After all, she was in his kitchen, wearing his shirt. His shirt, she reminded herself. This is ridiculous. What am I doing?
• “Yeah,” she answered, forcing a small smile. “I’m just getting a snack.”
• Alexander stepped closer, his eyes scanning her figure with an unreadable expression. His gaze lingered for a moment too long, and Celia’s pulse quickened, a shiver running down her spine. The oversized shirt she wore did nothing to hide the curves of her body, and she suddenly felt exposed in a way she hadn’t before.
• “Nice shirt,” he remarked casually, his lips curling into a small, teasing smile. “Seems to fit you better than it does me.”
• Celia’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned away to hide her discomfort. “I couldn’t find anything else. I thought... well, it’s comfortable.”
• “Comfort is important.” His voice was closer now, his presence somehow filling the space between them.
• The microwave beeped, and Celia quickly took out the bowl, placing it on the counter. She tried to steady her hands, her fingers brushing against the porcelain with more force than necessary.
• Alexander’s eyes never left her. For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was as if the air had thickened between them, the unspoken tension crackling just beneath the surface. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the way it traced over her body, making her skin heat in places she hadn’t realized had been cold.
• Why does he have to look at me like that? she thought, her heart racing. I can’t... I can’t let him see me this way. Not like this.
• But it was already too late. Her body was betraying her, the quickening of her breath, the fluttering in her chest. Alexander stepped closer, just a few inches away now. His hand brushed against hers as he reached for the counter, his fingers grazing over her skin in a soft, deliberate motion.
• The brief contact made her heart lurch, and she looked up at him, startled.
• He didn’t move away. Instead, his eyes darkened, his gaze flickering down to her lips, then back to her eyes. There was a moment of silent understanding between them, something both dangerous and tantalizing, like a storm brewing just on the horizon.
• “Celia…” Alexander murmured, his voice softer now, almost a whisper.
• She couldn’t speak. Her throat felt tight, the words she wanted to say stuck somewhere between desire and fear. Her body ached for him, for something she couldn’t even define. She had dreamed of this moment for so long, but now that it was here, it felt too real. Too much.
• Before she could react, Alexander stepped back, as if catching himself. The heat in the room seemed to dissipate as he cleared his throat, breaking the spell that had wrapped around them.
• “You should eat,” he said, his voice back to its usual calm, composed tone. “You look like you haven’t had anything all day.”
• Celia nodded, but she couldn’t quite find the words to respond. Her mind was still spinning, trying to make sense of what had just happened—or almost happened.
• As he turned to leave, he paused at the doorway, casting a glance back at her. “Get some rest. We have a busy day ahead.”
• And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving Celia alone in the kitchen, her pulse still racing.
• She stared at the microwave, at the bowl of pasta, but she couldn’t focus on the food. Instead, her thoughts swirled around the touch that had lingered too long, the unspoken words, and the tension that now seemed to hang between them.
• What was happening between her and Alexander? Was it just the heat of the moment, or was there something more?
• Celia took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She couldn’t let herself get carried away. She was staying here for a reason—she wasn’t some fleeting fantasy. She needed to be strong, to prove that she could control her feelings.
• But deep down, she knew it was getting harder to resist the pull between them.
• And every time they came close, it felt more impossible to ignore.