Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President-Chapter 31: Turning Off the Heat

The two had done it quite a few times, mostly in hotels, but it was their first time in the kitchen.

The experience made Claire Shaw feel both curious and nervous, especially when his hand touched her tender skin, sparking a series of fireworks.

The small kitchen window was open, a breeze stirred her thin shirt, revealing the man’s arm with prominent veins.

His strong and dominant arm contrasted starkly against her tender pale skin.

With a "snap," Claire Shaw’s slipper fell to the floor, and the two suddenly parted.

Claire’s face was flushed to an outrageous degree, her fingers clutching his shirt, crumpling it.

"...Aren’t you hungry? I’ll cook the noodles for you first."

The man stared at her body with growing intensity, "I am hungry."

He leaned against Claire Shaw’s earlobe, his voice sexy and husky: "After we eat, will you sleep with me?"

Such straightforward words made Claire feel a bit embarrassed, she bowed her head, muttering a response: "Mm."

"Where’s the medicine box?"

"In the bedside table."

Ethan Blackwood hugged her down, as her feet touched the ground, Claire found herself a bit weak in the legs and stumbled, but the man held her just in time.

She felt a bit embarrassed, who becomes weak in the legs just from a man’s kiss!

She put on the fallen slipper and pushed the man away, "I’ll do it, you go out first."

The man was about to step away when she reached out and took hold of his wrist.

Ethan Blackwood looked down at her, the desire in his eyes calming, "Hm? What’s wrong?"

"Do you eat spicy?"

She didn’t realize, wearing an apron made her look like a demure little wife, especially with her fair little face looking clean and innocent.

Ethan Blackwood tucked the strand of hair beside her cheek behind her ear, "I do."

He then walked straight to the bedroom.

This was his second time here, and this time he rightfully entered her domain.

Claire Shaw’s bed wasn’t large, but it looked soft and smelled nice, just like her.

Ethan Blackwood searched around, but there was no burn medicine in the medicine box, so he stood up and left.

Claire calmed down, continued to light the fire and crackle the eggs into the pan.

She took out a handful of bok choy and scallions.

Her fair hands washed the bok choy and cut the scallions into segments, adding some salt, soy sauce, and other seasonings.

The boiling water in the pot bubbled, she sprinkled in a handful of thin vermicelli noodles.

After ten minutes, she turned off the heat, lifted the noodles, sprinkled scallions on the white and green mixture, added a big spoon of spicy oil, and laid two fried eggs.

Though not a thousand-dollar steak from a Western restaurant, it was colorful, fragrant, and tasty, enough to whet anyone’s appetite.

Claire Shaw carried the bowl to the dining table, only to find the house already empty.

Ding-dong, the doorbell rang.

Claire Shaw stepped to the door, opened it, and the tall man walked in carrying two huge grocery bags.

In just twenty minutes, he’d swept through the supermarket, it was unbelievably quick.

"You... what’s this?"

"Picked up some groceries."

The man’s tie was long gone, his shirt unbuttoned at the top two buttons, sleeves rolled up revealing sturdy forearms.

This wasn’t the look of a domineering CEO.

Ethan Blackwood placed the bags on the floor and took out a pair of slippers to change into.

Claire Shaw intended to take the bags to the kitchen, but didn’t know what he’d bought. She couldn’t lift one bag with one hand.

Using both hands, she barely managed to pick it up.

"Let me."

A muscular arm appeared, effortlessly picking up the bag she could only lift with both hands, and didn’t forget to lift the other bag.

The two large packages seemed like toys in his hands, it was the first time Claire felt the stark difference in strength between men and women.

Opening the fridge, besides some facial masks and beer, there were only two tomatoes and a pitiful half bunch of bok choy hanging there.

Claire felt a bit embarrassed, cleared her throat slightly: "You eat first, I’ll tidy up."

Ethan Blackwood closed the fridge and went to the dining table, Claire felt a bit nervous.

After all, this privileged young master was used to Michelin chef meals, could he get used to her simple noodle soup?

Miranda Shaw had enrolled her in culinary training just so she could marry into a wealthy family and be adept both in the kitchen and in social settings.

But even the clever housewife can’t cook without rice, these were the only ingredients at home.

Once she had prepared a home-cooked meal for Owen Crawford, he had belittled her culinary skills under the guise of showcasing his home:

"Claire, not that I’m saying, it doesn’t matter if you’re not good at cooking, since you’re with me to enjoy life, we have cooks at home, don’t make these kinds of dishes in the future."

He wasn’t tactful, implying that her home-cooked dishes weren’t presentable.

Claire tried hard to please Ethan Blackwood for the orphanage’s sake.

"You came at an unfortunate time, I’ll cook for you once I’ve bought groceries next time. Actually, I’m quite good at preparing Western food or sashimi dishes."

Her tone carried some lack of confidence, the man ate quickly but didn’t make any unpleasant noises.

He finished his meal in a few minutes and even drank half a bowl of soup.

He wiped his lips clean before speaking: "These noodles are quite good."

Claire tried to see if there was any sincerity in his eyes, but the man pulled her into his embrace.

She instinctively tried to struggle.

"Don’t move."

Ethan Blackwood suddenly took out a burn ointment and gently applied it on her blister.

"Hiss... it hurts..." Claire couldn’t help but let out a soft moan.