Braelyn's POV
My cheeks burned, and I cupped my face to hide them. "No one is here. There is no need for the act." I muttered.
How could he say such cheesy things with a straight face? "I'm not acting Braelyn. I'm too exhausted." He sighed, his attention still focused on the pan.
My eyes were still fixed on his frame and the way those broad shoulders moved. The image of a man half-naked with an apron officially became my new kink. He looked perfect and I could not pry my eyes away.
The aroma hit before I realised what he was cooking, garlic, oil, and something faintly spicy curling through the air. "What are you doing?" I asked curiously.
He moved around the stove with practised ease, the kind that came from someone who had done this a million times. Although Lucien wasn't part of the family business I was certain he had enough trust fund not to ever do a single chore his entire life. It was surprising to know he could cook.
