Chapter 97 The Hot New Caramel Chef (3)

The mansion was hushed, wrapped in that heavy quiet that falls after a chaotic day. Dinner service had been a storm—plates clinking, Kabelo’s deep South African accent barking orders, the kitchen pulsing with the hiss of sizzling pans and the heady scent of spices. I’d been scrubbing pots for hours, my hands still wrinkled from the soapy water, my black dress sticking to my curves, the white apron tossed aside. My dark curls hung loose, brushing my shoulders, and my skin was warm, a mix of exhaustion and the restless heat that had been simmering since that morning with Kabelo. His caramel skin, his shirtless chest, the way his eyes had locked on mine when I licked that spoon—it had my pussy throbbing all day, my thong damp, my thoughts a mess. I slipped into the kitchen past midnight, my sneakers whispering on the tiles, figuring it’d be empty. I’d left my phone on the counter during the rush and just needed to grab it before heading to my room. But the second I pushed through the swinging door, my breath caught, and my heart slammed against my ribs. Kabelo was there, packing up, his broad shoulders gleaming under the soft kitchen lights. Shirtless, of course, his chef’s jacket draped over a chair, his caramel skin slick with sweat, every muscle in his chest and abs defined like a damn sculpture. His dark hair was slightly damp, curling at the edges, and his full lips curved into a faint smile as he gathered his things, his biceps flexing with every move. My pussy clenched, my nipples hardening against my dress, and I froze, my body screaming to run but my feet glued to the floor.