Caught Twice

An hour later, Esther was utterly drained emotionally more than physically. If she had been in the comfort of her own home, she might have already done anything to vent the excessive frustration that now consumed her. Gaara Maxwell had not been joking when he declared that his knowledge in the culinary arts was a complete and utter zero.

It began with something as simple as cracking an egg; instead of splitting it neatly, he mercilessly crushed it into a mess. Esther was certain she had warned him beforehand to add exactly two spoonfuls of baking soda into their mixture. Yet, somehow, he had decided to toss it in at his own whim, ignoring every ounce of instruction. And as if the chaos he had already caused wasn’t enough, Gaara was now complaining about the shape of the cake they were supposed to make.

“The theme is Easter, Gaara. So of course, we need to make it in the shape of a rabbit to match the occasion,” Esther explained wearily. She had already spent more energy than she could afford just cleaning up the countless disasters Gaara had caused throughout the cooking process.

“You must be joking. Do you actually believe in the Easter Bunny? That’s just something the church made up ages ago. Instead of a rabbit, we should make a raccoon.”

Too tired to argue with the young master any further, Esther eventually gave in. She prepared two separate pans. One shaped like a rabbit, in keeping with the theme, and the other shaped like a raccoon, simply because Gaara refused to be negotiated with on that matter.

But of course, chaos found its way back through Gaara’s hands. The raccoon shape he attempted collapsed into a complete disaster, forcing them both to redo the batter three separate times. Fortunately, Esther possessed a patience thick enough to balance out Gaara’s stubborn streak.

“At last, it’s finally done,” Gaara sighed in relief as he looked at the fourth batch of chocolate cookie dough resting in the bowl in his hands.

“Let me shape it!” Esther quickly interjected, snatching the bowl away from him before he could do anything reckless. She immediately set to work, carefully molding the dough into little rabbits and raccoons. Seeing the precision in her effort, Gaara didn’t interfere this time. He knew better than to invite another round of chaos like before.

“If I’m not allowed to shape them, then what exactly am I supposed to do?” he asked innocently, his tone almost childlike.

“Just preheat the oven for me,” Esther replied, not even glancing up from her task.

He obeyed without protest, then settled himself into a chair by the kitchen table. From there, he watched her finish arranging the dough on two baking trays. True enough, her creations looked adorable and perfectly formed unlike his earlier, tragic attempts. Gaara took the trays once she was finished and slid them carefully into the oven.

“All we have to do now,” he said, almost proudly, “is wait.”

Silence followed Gaara’s words. Esther, unable to bear the sight of a mess lingering before her eyes, decided to tidy up the chaos Gaara had left behind.

“Hey! You don’t need to do that. I pay the maids for this sort of thing,” Gaara remarked when he noticed Esther crouching to wipe away the spilled dough on the floor.

“We should take responsibility for what we’ve started until it’s finished,” Esther countered, ignoring him as she continued scrubbing at the stain that would surely cling stubbornly to the tiles if left any longer.

Gaara, displeased at being disregarded, exhaled sharply in frustration. He finally moved closer, crouching down beside her. “I didn’t realize you were this stubborn,” he murmured, his voice carrying both annoyance and a strange amusement. Without waiting for her reaction, he pulled Esther up to her feet, snatched the rag from her hand, and tossed it carelessly across the room so she couldn’t reach it again.

“But unfortunately for you,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I’m far more stubborn than you’ll ever be.”

Esther could only gape at Gaara’s behavior, utterly lost for words especially when he gently pushed her onto a chair and made her sit. Gaara then positioned himself beside her, close enough that the air between them seemed to grow warmer. In that moment, Esther didn’t dare meet his gaze. Instead, she busied herself by stirring what little cookie dough remained in the bowl on the kitchen table, pretending to be entirely absorbed in the task.

Gaara studied every small movement she made, his sharp eyes catching details she wished he wouldn’t. He noticed the way her fingers fidgeted, the restless rhythm of her stirring. She was uneasy, he could sense it as plainly as the flour still dusting her apron. And he knew, with a flicker of self-satisfaction, that he was the very reason for her unease.

It wasn’t difficult to guess. Esther didn’t strike him as the sort of girl accustomed to receiving much attention from men. So when it was suddenly directed at her. She seemed utterly at a loss, unsure of how to respond.

Something had happened the night before. Gaara was certain of it. Because now, every time their skin brushed, however lightly, Esther’s composure faltered. She grew flustered without fail, as though her body betrayed her even when her mind tried to resist.

A slow grin curved Gaara’s lips when his gaze landed on her once again, unaware of her own actions, let the tip of her tongue slip over the spoon coated with cookie dough.

“There’s chocolate at the corner of your mouth,” he drawled, his grin deepening. “Here… let me clean it for you.”

Without waiting for Esther’s reply, Gaara leaned in and boldly licked the smear of cookie dough at the corner of her lips. But he didn’t stop there. His tongue traced the delicate curve of her mouth, then drifted along her jawline, before his reckless adventure finally ended in the softest of kisses pressed against her lips.

Esther gasped, the spoon she had been holding slipping from her fingers and clattering onto the floor. Her shock only fueled Gaara’s audacity. Taking advantage of her parted lips, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding past to taste the lingering sweetness of cookie dough within her mouth. A low groan escaped him, raw and unrestrained, as if the flavor of her mingled with chocolate was far too intoxicating.

Slowly, his hand wandered to the small of her back, finding the knot of her apron strings. With practiced ease, he tugged at it, loosening the bow without ever breaking the kiss. The fabric slackened against her body, but Gaara’s lips remained pressed to hers, drawing her further into the dizzying warmth that blurred the line between impulse and inevitability.

Gaara slowly rose from his chair, pulling the girl along with him before effortlessly lifting Esther into his arms and settling her onto the kitchen table. His hand slid into her long hair, fingers tangling with deliberate firmness, and with a single, decisive motion he drew her head back, forcing her to tilt upward. Her slender neck exposed fully to him.

“Exquisite,” Gaara murmured with a smile, his voice low and reverent, before lowering his lips to the vulnerable skin.

His kisses trailed down her neck, each touch leaving a lingering spark that sent shivers rippling through Esther. His tongue brushed in teasing strokes, planting deadly tingles that stole her breath away. At times he sucked gently against her skin, at others he left playful bites, a map of fleeting marks upon her delicate flesh.

The sound of Esther’s unrestrained sighs filled the space, fragile yet intoxicating. Gaara reveled in them as though they were music crafted solely for him. To him, it was clear. This was her first time surrendering to such intimacy. And that knowledge only ignited his fervor, driving him further into the thrill of her trembling responses.

“I—I can’t, Gaara. This isn’t right…” Esther’s voice trembled, the fragile edge of reason trying desperately to resist the storm of sensations he had already awakened within her. It was her first time, and the unfamiliar, tingling pleasure both unsettled and frightened her.

But Gaara ignored her protest as if it were nothing more than a fleeting whisper. He had always believed women often said one thing while their bodies confessed another hesitation born not of rejection, but of modesty. To him, Esther was no different.

Instead of pulling back, his hand wandered forward, drawn to the very place that had tempted him from the start. A slow, knowing grin curved across his lips as he discovered the thin fabric of her shirt did little to conceal her vulnerability. His touch was deliberate, almost reverent, sending sharp waves of hunger coursing through her as though something deep within had been starved and was now awakening.

“Oh, God…” she gasped, torn between fear and a wild rush of desire. “This is madness…”

It was an intoxicating pleasure, whatever it might be called. It coursed through her like fire, sweet and dangerous all at once. Yet alongside the heady delight came fear, sharp and urgent. If she didn’t stop him now, if she didn’t push back, she knew Gaara’s passion might grow only more relentless, while her strength to resist would unravel piece by piece. This was wrong. A mistake, one that could wound her far more deeply than the stolen kiss he had taken the night before.

“I—this isn’t right! I can’t do this! We have to stop!” Esther cried, her voice breaking, breathless and uneven as she pressed her hands against his chest in a desperate attempt to push him away. But Gaara, swept up in his own desire, seemed deaf to her words. He was losing himself just as he had the night before. He ignored her protests, chasing after the sound of her gasps as though they were fuel to his fire.

Her resistance faltered when his lips found her again, igniting another trembling moan that slipped from her throat, betraying her fear with a rush of forbidden sweetness.

And then—

“GOOD LORD! LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR A MOMENT AND THIS IS WHAT YOU DO? IF YOU’RE GOING TO DO THAT, AT LEAST TAKE IT TO A BEDROOM!”