Chapter 35: The First Stolen Kiss

Soft streetlights traced gentle shadows across Cora’s sleeping face, blurring her lashes and mouth into something almost unreal.

Julian had never noticed before—she was beautiful when she was quiet. Too beautiful.

How strange, he thought. He didn’t hate this silence. He liked it.

The warm air of midsummer drifted in through the open roof. When he saw her stir, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The movement made her shift slightly, a small sound escaping her throat.

“Mm…” She turned her head, half-asleep. Her parted lips brushed against his fingers.

Julian froze. The light touch hit him like static through a wire. He should’ve pulled away—he didn’t. His fingertips hovered, then brushed again. The curve of her mouth was soft, impossibly soft.

He poked at her cheek once, twice. No reaction. The little mole was completely dead to the world.

And then his gaze dropped to her lips again—bare, flushed from sleep, slightly open like an unspoken invitation.

A dark spark flickered in his eyes.

Don’t you dare, he told himself.

But another voice in his head whispered, Just once.

He bent down. Her face filled his view—those lashes like small fans, the tiny slope of her nose, that faint warmth of breath against his skin.

Before he could think better of it, he pressed his lips to hers.

The world stilled.

It was supposed to be a fleeting brush—nothing more—but the contact hit deep, hot, electric. The taste of her made his pulse stutter. He leaned in a fraction closer, just to feel it again—

“Mm…”

Cora’s lashes fluttered.

Julian jerked upright like he’d been shot. His heart slammed against his ribs. What the hell did I just—

Her eyes opened, dazed. She blinked at him, seeing only his rigid posture and the faint color on his face. “Mm… Are we home already?” She rubbed her eyes, then frowned. “Wait—you’re blushing. Did you drink?”

“No.” Too fast. Too loud. His neck felt like it was on fire. He, Julian Watson, thirty-two, who’d faced hostile takeovers without blinking—was blushing.

“You’re seeing things,” he snapped, slamming the car into gear.

The engine roared.

“Julian, I’m pregnant!” Cora yelped, clutching the seatbelt.

He released the accelerator immediately, jaw tight. The speed dropped, and the silence between them grew thick again.

Cora shot him a sideways glare. I fall asleep for twenty minutes and he’s furious again? Maybe she’d muttered his name in a dream? Or insulted him subconsciously? With this man, anything could set him off.

Baby, she thought grimly, your father is impossible.

By the time they reached home, she was too tired to care. Julian stormed out of the car without a word. She rolled her eyes. So much for Mr. Perfect.

Then she noticed his jacket still draped over her seat. For a moment, her annoyance melted. So he does have a decent streak…

She carried both the bag and the jacket inside.

“Madam,” Aunt Zhang greeted, “Master Julian ordered supper. Shall I bring some for you as well?”

Cora hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll make something myself—and bring him some too.”

Aunt Zhang’s eyes softened in approval.

Cora changed into comfortable clothes, clipped up her hair, and went to the kitchen. In ten minutes she had a plate of French toast and a small salad. Balancing the tray carefully, she knocked on Julian’s study door.

“Come in.” His voice was clipped, eyes still on the documents. “Leave it there.”

She placed the tray down quietly and turned to leave.

“Coffee,” he said without looking up.

Cora bit her lip but obeyed, refilling his cup. He took a sip, frowned. “Who made—” He stopped mid-sentence when he looked up and saw her.

The irritation drained from his face. “You?”

She nodded, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “Yeah. I was a bit hungry too, so I just made extra.”

“Then eat here,” he said simply, eyes back on the papers.

Cora froze. That wasn’t the plan. She’d just wanted to drop it off. But if she left now, would that annoy him again? With a sigh, she sat down and began nibbling on her toast.

Julian wrote another few lines, then glanced up. She was chewing with small, careful bites—like a squirrel trying to be polite. He couldn’t help it; the corner of his mouth twitched.

A moment later, his shadow fell across her plate. She looked up, startled, just as he picked up her used fork and took a bite from her plate.

Cora choked.

Wait. Used fork? Same piece of toast? That was—

An indirect kiss.

Her face went red to the ears.

Julian didn’t seem to notice—or pretended not to. “Not bad,” he said mildly. “Toast’s good.”

Then he ate the rest of her half.

Cora made a strangled sound somewhere between outrage and embarrassment.

He calmly reached for his coffee, as if nothing had happened.

And just like that, the man who’d stolen her first kiss tonight stole her midnight snack too.