Chapter 428

When they returned to the villa, Byron scooped up a sleeping child with one arm and carried him upstairs.

Maeve stifled a laugh. Was he carrying his son or a sack of potatoes? He was certainly not gentle. If she weren't so wet and uncomfortable, she would have taken a picture.

She showered to wash off the unpleasant smell, changed into her nightgown, and left the bathroom. The dressing table, empty earlier, was now filled with her skincare and makeup. It looked like a miniature beauty supply store.

She knew instantly who was responsible. Maeve, who had just been mentally criticizing Byron's lack of tenderness, felt a pang in her heart. She wasn't sure of her feelings, but he clearly cared. Perhaps she was far from liking him, but she could wait. When it came to relationships, Maeve never looked back.

She applied perfume and went downstairs. Byron McDaniel was already in the kitchen, his suit jacket off, revealing a black shirt and slacks that made him look even taller and leaner. His sleeves were rolled up, showcasing his muscular forearms. Even the way he chopped vegetables was handsome. Maeve watched for a moment before grabbing an apron and approaching him. "Lift your arm," she said.

"Huh?" Byron looked up, gave her a quick glance, and raised his arm. Maeve helped him put on the apron.

"What's with the sudden niceness?" Byron asked, surprised. She had even avoided a morning kiss, as if afraid he would devour her. Now, he was the one taking the initiative?

"I'm just putting on an apron," Maeve said, trying to play it cool. Before she could step back, Byron pulled her close. "What are you doing?"

"You still owe me something," Byron grinned, his hand on her waist. "I left it this morning."

Maeve immediately remembered the dodged morning kiss. Her cheeks flushed.

"It's unreasonable to wait until tomorrow night to repay a debt from last night. It's the same tonight," she thought, then changed her words. "I think what you said today makes sense. I'll compensate you now."

The twinkle in Byron's eyes intensified. Even though they were alone, Maeve felt nervous. Her fingers clenched.

"If you drag this out, they'll wake up," Byron drawled. "It's not our first kiss. You need me to show you how?"

Maeve's face turned crimson. She stood on tiptoe and pecked his lips. Byron, prepared for this, pulled her onto the kitchen counter. He cradled her head and kissed her deeply. Regardless of his gentleness, his strong character remained.

At first, Byron teased her, tasting her lips as her breathing grew erratic. But once he smelled her perfume, his rationality faded. He wanted more, to possess her completely.

Maeve finally understood why he'd lifted her onto the counter—he was afraid she'd lose her balance and affect his performance.

A dripping faucet matched Maeve's racing heart. She felt weak and dizzy. She didn't notice when her nightdress was pushed up to her waist.

"Okay," Byron finally said, panting. His voice was tight, his eyes intense. "We'll finish this tonight."

This brought Maeve back to reality. Byron kissed her cheek. "You still want more?"

"No!" Maeve retorted, pushing him away. Byron stopped her, straightening her belt and dress. Only then did Maeve realize the disarray she'd caused. Mortified, she swatted his hand. "Can't you control yourself? What kind of morning kiss was that?"

Byron smoothed her skirt and raised an eyebrow. "Don't say she's from the Grace Faction. She can't hold a candle to our Beast Faction."

Maeve cursed him silently and fled the kitchen. Later, she returned to wash the vegetables.

Byron chuckled. "Maeve, if I wanted to make a move on you, do you think pajamas would stop me?"

Maeve ignored him, feeling safer in her pajamas. "Go out and wait. I'll make dinner," Byron said.

"Don't."

"Aren't you afraid I can't control myself?"

Maeve glared. "Will and Theo want my soup. You don't know how to make it."

"I won't," Byron said, picking up a pepper. "Don't I still have you?"

Maeve's face heated up again. She turned away, continuing to wash vegetables.

In the end, Maeve only made soup; Byron made the rest of the dinner. He seemed to be learning to cook more and more. Maeve felt a sense of doom. She couldn't let him learn to make soup. Where would she fit in the kitchen then?

The children smelled the food and rushed downstairs. "Mommy, mommy! Loren is in trouble!"