Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President-Chapter 30: Kiss Her

Ethan Blackwood sized up Claire Shaw, who was standing anxiously on the side, and spoke lazily, "Do you have anything to eat?"

"Huh?"

Claire was momentarily stunned, clearly this question was unexpected.

She thought of an online joke; she was ready for intimacy, and he asked for food?

Looking at his travel-worn appearance, could it be that he hadn’t had time to eat? Aren’t there meals on the plane?

Claire quickly replied, "I do, but there’s not much at home, can I make some noodles? It’s faster."

"Do you know how to fry eggs?"

"Yes."

"Fry two eggs then."

"Please wait a moment."

Claire headed to the kitchen. As the oil on the frying pan sizzled, she still looked a bit dazed.

No, how did things develop to her cooking for a man!!!

But everything fell into place naturally, yet inexplicably, and she hadn’t even realized that she was already wielding the spatula.

In a careless moment, a drop of oil splashed up.

"Ow..."

Claire winced in pain as a large blister formed on the back of her hand from the hot oil.

Before she could react, a long hand turned off the fire and pulled her hand under the faucet to rinse it.

His hand was large, making Claire’s appear small and pale in comparison.

Judging by hands alone, one was a pampered heiress, the other a rough-and-tumble servant.

Claire thought back to when she was six and so hungry, while Miranda Shaw was only focused on chasing her lost love. Claire decided to scramble some leftover rice with eggs.

She had seen it on TV, egg rice was simple, but she had no idea about hot oil and ended up with two blisters, while Miranda Shaw stood aside with arms crossed, scolding her.

"You’re so useless, can’t even handle something this simple. If you were a boy, I would’ve married you into the Sutton Family by now."

Even her own mother despised her for making mistakes; surely Ethan Blackwood would think she was useless too.

"I’m fine," she instinctively tried to hide her hand behind her back.

He grasped her wrist, speaking softly, "Does it hurt?"

Does it hurt?

It was like a heavy hammer fiercely sparked in her heart; when she was six, all she wanted was a "does it hurt?" from Miranda Shaw.

She looked up, meeting his sincere dark eyes.

"What? Does it hurt bad... mmm..."

The words stopped abruptly as Claire tugged on his loose tie, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his lips.

Claire’s 168 cm stature seemed tiny in front of him. Ethan Blackwood moved his hand to her underarm, easily lifting her onto the kitchen counter.

Leaning in, he unapologetically deepened the kiss bit by bit.

Claire clutched the marble countertop’s edge to steady herself, while his big hand captured her wrist.

His body temperature was already higher than hers, and at the moment their skin touched, it felt like his heat would burn her.

With nothing to support her waist, she could only take one hand to wrap around his neck.

Ethan Blackwood took the opportunity to encircle her slender waist with his strong arms, holding her tightly in his embrace.

He kissed her fiercely and urgently, as if he wanted to swallow Claire whole.

Their kisses hadn’t been frequent, nor had any been as intense as this; it was so intense she almost couldn’t take it.

She felt like a stranded fish, the sea had retreated, leaving her grasping for thin air.

That sudden kiss was impulsive; growing up, no one had ever cared about her.

Even when Owen Crawford professed to love her, when her hand got injured once, his first reaction wasn’t to treat and stop the bleeding.

Instead, he adopted a condescending, lecturing stance: "I told you I would do it, but you insisted. I just don’t get it, why can’t a woman be gentler? What’s the point of showing off? Alright, I’ve called 120, hang in there."

Being such a young master, even a small injury would have a crowd of servants fussing over him; he didn’t even have basic life skills.

Claire always handled everything herself, because she had an unrecognizing father, an unreliable mother, and an overburdened self.

Ethan Blackwood was different, though Claire didn’t mind the small blister that would heal in a couple of days at most.

He immediately turned off the fire, had her rinse her hand with cold water, silently taking care of everything, and was the only one who cared about her feelings.

That’s why she lost control so suddenly, resulting in his stormy and relentless kiss.

The kiss felt like it lasted an eternity, with Claire moving from stiffness to slowly melting, legs unconsciously hooking around his waist.

The desire welling inside her was like vines growing madly in the dark night...

She wanted to.