Chapter 96 The Hot New Caramel Chef (2)

• The next day, I stepped into the kitchen with my usual routine in mind—scrub, polish, repeat. My black dress hugged my curves, the white apron tied tight around my waist, accentuating my hips and breasts. My dark curls were pinned up, a few strands already escaping to brush my neck, and my skin was flushed from the morning’s work. The mansion was quiet, the other staff scattered, and I was ready to tackle the kitchen before dinner service. But the second I pushed through the swinging door, my breath caught, and my plans went straight to hell.
• Kabelo was there, standing over the stove, and holy fuck, he was shirtless. His chef’s jacket was nowhere in sight, probably tossed aside in the heat of the kitchen. His caramel skin glistened with sweat, his broad shoulders and muscular chest glowing under the soft overhead lights. Every ripple of his abs caught the light, his biceps flexing as he stirred a pot, the veins in his arms standing out like a map I wanted to trace with my tongue. His dark hair was slightly damp, curling at the edges, and his full lips were set in a focused line, but his eyes—those dark, mischievous eyes—flicked up as I walked in, pinning me in place.
• I froze, my mouth dry, my pussy instantly wet, a low throb starting deep in my core. My nipples hardened against my dress, and I prayed the apron hid it. He was a fucking god, all sweat and muscle, and I wanted to run—out of embarrassment, out of sheer need—but my feet wouldn’t move. I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles whitening, and tried to look anywhere but at his chest. It was useless. My eyes kept drifting back, drinking in the way his skin shimmered, the way his body moved with easy, confident grace.