Chapter 419

Everett remained silent.

Rosalind studied him closely. His short hair, still damp from the shower, glistened under the kitchen lights. The simple black tee and jeans he wore made him look younger, more approachable.

Cooking came naturally to him—a skill he'd mastered early. There was something undeniably attractive about a man who could handle a kitchen with such ease.

The longer Rosalind watched, the more she found herself drawn to him. "Everett, why won't you talk to me? If you keep ignoring me, I might just have to tickle you."

Without hesitation, she reached out, her fingers dancing lightly over his sides.

Her touch sent an unexpected jolt through him.

Everett reacted instantly, capturing both her wrists in one firm grip and pinning her against the wall. "What are you doing? Stop."

Rosalind squirmed, trying to free herself. "You're being mean!"

He didn't loosen his hold.

Seizing the opportunity, she rose onto her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

Everett went completely still.

Encouraged by his lack of resistance, Rosalind kissed him again, deeper this time.

The moment their lips met, Everett was overwhelmed. She smelled like expensive perfume—floral, intoxicating, nothing like the plain soap he used. His grip on her wrists finally slackened.

Rosalind wrapped her arms around his waist, coaxing his lips apart as she deepened the kiss.

He was always so distant, so controlled. But when she kissed him, his body burned with undeniable heat. She loved the way he responded to her, the way his breath hitched when she touched him.

Just as the kiss grew more heated, Margaret's voice called from the other room. "Something smells burnt."

Margaret hurried into the kitchen, her cane tapping lightly against the floor. "Everett, did you burn the food?"

Being blind, she hadn't knocked—this was her home, after all.

Rosalind startled, shoving Everett away, her cheeks flaming.

Everett, ever composed, calmly turned off the stove. "Forgot to lower the heat. It's fine."

Margaret chuckled. "Be more careful, dear."

Rosalind quickly added, "Mrs. Sinclair, we were just talking. He must’ve gotten distracted."

Margaret smiled knowingly. "Of course. I'll give you two some space."

Once she left, the air between them thickened with awkward tension. Rosalind glanced at Everett—and noticed the tips of his ears had turned pink.

He was blushing.

Rosalind gasped. "You're blushing!"

Everett denied it instantly. "No."

She grinned. "You totally are! Don't even try to lie."

He shot her a look. "Get out."

"Not a chance. I'm staying right here with you."

Rosalind wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing herself against his back.

She was warm, soft—everything he wasn't. Everett stiffened. "Aren’t you embarrassed, throwing yourself at me like this?"

Rosalind laughed. "Why would I be?"

Everett arched a brow but said nothing.

She smirked. "You're my boyfriend, aren't you? Isn't this what couples do? Kiss, hug, spend time together? I'm not embarrassed at all!"

Everett scoffed. "Who said I'm your boyfriend?"

"You are!"

"I never agreed to that."

"Well, I kissed you, and you didn’t push me away. Not once! I keep kissing you, and you keep letting me. Face it—you like me too."

Everett smirked. "Maybe I'm just taking advantage of the situation. Ever think of that?"

Rosalind rolled her eyes. "So you're admitting you're a jerk? Fine. Be a jerk. Go ahead—do your worst."

She knew he wasn’t.

Everett had no comeback.

Just then, Reginald—Everett's ever-present shadow of a friend—walked in.

"Everett—whoa. Where did this goddess come from?"