A smirk played on Silas's lips as he approached Esme, his eyes lingering on her captivating figure. Though aware of his roaming gaze, Esme studiously ignored him, the rhythmic chop-chop of the knife against the cutting board filling the air.
Silas stood behind her, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingertips brushed her cheek. Esme shuddered at his touch.
"What are you going to cook?" he asked.
Esme offered a curt reply. "Noodles. Hope you like them."
"Anything you cook would be a delight," he purred, his fingers brushing against the cascade of her hair.
"Actually," Esme countered, a playful glint in her eyes, "how about you handle the vegetable chopping, Silas?"
"Oh, sure." Surprised by her request, Silas readily agreed.
