Leanna By Miu

After I signed the papers and sent all the reports to their respective recipients, I closed my laptop, took off my eyegla.s.ses, and placed it on the bedside table. My gla.s.ses were for protection against radiation and glares since I often used computers and draw on my Wacom tablet.

I ma.s.saged my eyes and looked at the sleeping man beside me. Cain"s face was ice-cold handsome, even asleep. The late nights of work were catching up under his eyes.

In the quiet, dim-lit room, his peaceful breathing dispelled most of my exhaustion. His soft heartbeat was like a lullaby. It was even more soothing than the gentle tones of the musical box.

I slid out from bed and tiptoed my way into the dresser to get an eye cream. After which I climbed back to bed with all caution, and gently applied the cream under his eyes. I didn"t even realize I was holding my breath until I finished applying the cream.

I grabbed his laptop and was going to place it on the bedside table when something caught my eyes. On the screen were some words in PowerPoint, and pictures –– half finish.

I guess he must have dozed off and didn"t finish his presentation.

Guilt ate my heart. I couldn"t help but think that I was getting in the way of his work. He was a busy man, yet he still gave me one hundred percent of his attention. He always woke up early to accompany me to walked little Pluffy and ever tried his best to come home before seven, so we could have dinner together.

Come to think of it. He was always the one who cooked breakfast and dinner, and I was like a Princess he would always serve.

I shook my head to get the negative thoughts out of my mind and studied his presentation.

One thing I was absolutely good at was using my eyes. Being an architect in my past life, making presentations for clients was as easy as breathing.

I studied his use of colors, his text, his composition. When I got everything I needed, I finished his presentation for him. Luckily, there was already a breakdown of topics and the presentation was all about VIOS, so I have an inkling about the project.

It was past two in the morning when I wrap everything up. After I save and send the presentation to my email just in case the file would corrupt (I know, paranoid much) I placed his laptop on the bedside table together with mine. I softly kissed his lips and snuggled myself against his warm chest.

----

I tried to ignore the uneasy feeling brought by Cain"s constant glances at me in the kitchen. I volunteered to cook our breakfast, and he was sitting in the dining table with his laptop. I know he must have noticed it by now.

Is he angry?

Is he angry that I b.u.t.t my nose in his business without asking his permission first?

I served our food on the table and sat opposite him. I poured his cup with his favorite lemon honey ginger tea, not making eye contact. I was about to retract my hand after I placed the teapot down when Cain held it as his eyes captured mine.

He"s angry at me!

He"s angry at me!
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My hand quivered until Cain"s lips curved in a warm smile.

"Thank you."

. . .

. . .

His thumb stroked the back of my palm, and warm feelings flooded all of me.

"D-do you like it?" My body flared, and I knew my face must be all red by now.

"I love it. It"s perfect. You"re even better than me at this. I can"t believe you"re just sixteen. Where did you learn to make professional business presentations?"

My head was red like a tomato upon hearing all his compliments –– until the last part of his sentence, which made the colors drained right off my face.

"I . . . umm . . . You know . . . I love arts and stuff. I just . . . studied your composition and . . . googled the rest."

I bit my lips. I hated it when I lied to him. I knew he knew I was not telling the whole truth –– good thing he didn"t press for more.

"Is that so . . . Thank you." He kissed my hand and, my blood boiled when his hot tongue circled the back of my palm while his frosty eyes held mine in fierce captive.

"I-if you want . . . I-I can . . . nghh . . . do your . . . mmm . . . presentation . . . unghh . . . from now on . . ." I forced out the words as he licked and sucked my fingers.

"That will be a big help. I appreciate it." He guided my fingers into caressing his face as he closed his eyes, devouring the scent of my hand.

S-sensual! Too sensual!

Happiness, love, and a sense of satisfaction and importance battled all at once.

Is this what he always feels when he cooked for me? Or do things that makes me happy?

I wonder.

This feeling is quite addicting.

I wanted to caress his cold, smooth face some more –– if not for my eyes that caught something in the newspaper.