10.
1346 Words
Diana slowly walked closer, curiosity briefly distracting her from the heaviness that had been sitting in her chest all night.
The kitchen lights were dim, warm against the darkness surrounding the mansion, and Ethan stood near the stove with one hand lazily gripping the wooden spoon while steam curled softly around him.
For some reason, the sight felt strangely intimate. Diana leaned lightly against the kitchen island and tilted her head slightly.
“What are you making, night chef?”
Ethan glanced at her over his shoulder. For a second, he looked caught, he hadn’t expected her to come downstairs.
Then his expression softened almost immediately. “The soup your mother used to make whenever you couldn’t sleep.”
The teasing smile on Diana’s lips slowly faded.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly. “You remember that?”
Ethan shrugged casually, but she noticed the slight stiffness in his shoulders immediately.
“You used to cry if the vegetables were too soft,” he muttered while stirring the pot again. “Your mother used to complain about how difficult you were.”
Diana stared at him because of how naturally he remembered it.
The memory was so small and so unimportant. Yet Ethan carried it like it mattered.
How long had this man been paying attention to her?
A faint smile slowly returned to her lips. “So you know I can’t sleep now too?”
Ethan looked at her again. And the way he looked at her made something in her stomach tighten softly. Because there was too much understanding in his eyes.
Too much tenderness. “I know you,” he answered quietly.
The simplicity of the words hit harder than they should have.
Diana looked away first, suddenly the kitchen felt too warm.
Ethan reached for another spoon before nodding toward her. “Come here.”
“What for?”
“Stir it.”
She laughed softly. “That sounds aggressive.”
“You’ve survived worse.”
Diana walked toward him anyway. Close enough now to smell the faint traces of his cologne beneath the scent of soup and spices.
Close enough to notice the way his rolled sleeves exposed his forearms and to feel nervous for absolutely no reason.
Ethan handed her the spoon. “Slowly,” he instructed.
Diana tried and failed immediately.
The spoon scraped awkwardly against the bottom of the pot.
Ethan sighed dramatically behind her. “That was painful to watch.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re assaulting the soup.”
She burst into laughter. “Stop being dramatic.”
“You’re stressing me out.”
Diana attempted again, but somehow managed to splash broth slightly over the side.
Ethan stared at the pot in disbelief. “You really don’t belong in kitchens.”
“Excuse me?”
“You hold the spoon like it insulted your family.”
Diana laughed harder.
And Ethan just stood there staring at her for a moment again.
That look.
That dangerous soft look like hearing her laugh was becoming his favorite thing.
Then he suddenly stepped closer behind her. “Move,” he murmured.
Diana’s heartbeat instantly turned uneven. “What are you doing?”
“Saving dinner.”
His voice came lower this time.
Before she could respond, Ethan’s hand slowly closed around hers.
The second he touched her, a shiver ran violently down her spine. Ethan froze too, just for a second like he felt it as well.
Diana’s breath caught slightly. “It’s just stirring,” she whispered softly, mostly to herself.
“Right,” Ethan answered quietly behind her.
But neither of them sounded convincing.
His hand guided hers slowly around the pot, steady and controlled, yet Diana could barely focus on the movement anymore.
Not when Ethan was standing this close or when his chest was almost against her back or when she could feel the warmth of his body surrounding her completely.
Her pulse became louder and slower. Then Ethan’s other hand moved carefully toward her waist and rested there gently.
Diana stopped breathing for a second. The touch wasn’t rough or demanding.
Somehow that made it worse because it felt natural like his hand belonged there.
Like he had imagined touching her this way a thousand times before allowing himself to finally do it once.
“Ethan…” His name barely came out properly. His breath brushed lightly against the side of her face.
Warm enough to make her knees weaken slightly.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured quietly near her ear.
Diana shut her eyes briefly, she could feel every tiny movement now.
His fingers around hers. His hand against her waist. His breath against her skin. Everything.
And the terrifying part was she didn’t want him to stop. She should have stepped away. Should have remembered Thompson, should have remembered this was wrong but instead she found herself leaning back slightly against Ethan without even realizing it.
The movement made his breathing change immediately. A sharp inhale like she had just shattered the last bit of control he had left.
Diana’s thoughts became messy, she kept trying to convince herself this meant nothing.
They were just touching. That was all. Nothing was happening.
Then Ethan’s lips brushed lightly against the edge of her ear.
Diana froze completely. A soft shiver ran through her entire body. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered. But his voice sounded strained like he already knew she wouldn’t.
Diana opened her eyes slowly. Her fingers tightened unconsciously around his hand.
And that tiny movement alone destroyed whatever distance remained between them.
Ethan turned her gently toward him. For one suspended moment, neither of them moved.
His eyes searched hers carefully like he was still giving her a chance to walk away.
But Diana couldn’t, not when he looked at her like that.
Her gaze slowly dropped to his lips and Ethan noticed immediately.
The way his expression changed nearly ruined her completely like restraint was physically hurting him.
Then his hand lifted slowly toward her face. As though he was afraid she’d disappear if he touched her too quickly.
His fingers brushed softly against her cheek and Diana finally broke. She kissed him first.
The second their lips met, Ethan made a quiet sound against her mouth that almost sounded painful.
Then suddenly his restraint snapped completely.
His hand moved firmly to her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her back harder this time.
Deeper. Hungry in a way that felt years overdue.
Diana’s fingers immediately tangled into his shirt tightly and the frightening part was how naturally her body responded to him.
Like she had wanted this longer than she realized.
The kiss became messier quickly.
Every breath between them uneven.
Ethan backed her slowly against the kitchen counter without breaking the kiss once.
Diana barely noticed the movement until the cold marble pressed lightly against her lower back.
Then Ethan lifted her onto the counter hurriedly, standing directly between her knees while his hands gripped her waist carefully but possessively.
The intensity of it made her dizzy. The way he kissed her felt nothing like Thompson.
There was urgency in Ethan, yes but also care. He wanted her while simultaneously trying not to overwhelm her and somehow that made everything feel even more intimate.
Diana held onto him tightly like letting go would make this moment disappear.
Ethan’s forehead rested briefly against hers as both of them struggled to breathe properly. His hands still trembled slightly against her waist and that tiny detail affected her more than anything else.
Because Ethan wasn’t calm. He wasn’t unaffected. He wanted her just as badly.
The realization made heat rush through her chest. Then suddenly another thought entered her mind.
By now… Thompson was probably in bed with Nora. The image should have shattered her again.
But strangely…it didn’t while Ethan’s hands were still holding her like she was something precious.
Diana slowly closed her eyes and tightened her grip on his shirt again.
“I just want to forget all that bullshit and move on.”
- Writer
