Tasting 141

141–His Hand In His Pants

Nora:

I didn’t leave the room again, and neither did the brothers come to see me. After hours of fuming

with anger, I finally grew impatient and was ready to leave. However, Lord Atwood had already

planned something for me.

There was a knock on the door, and when I opened it. I found Lord Atwood standing outside with a

tray of food.

“I heard you were skipping meals again,” he smiled, entering my bedroom with enough food for two

people.

I couldn’t believe he was planning to eat here with me. What did I do to deserve someone like him

in my life?

“I was just not feeling like eating anything.” I said, hating that he was caught up in all this drama

without knowing why.

“Oh, so when I feast with you, I’m sure you’ll feel hungry,” he said with a bright smile that shattered

my heart..

“I’m sure that will happen,” I nodded, sitting down on the bed with him but taking over when it came

to serving the food.

“What is going on, Nora? Are the brothers giving you a hard time? If so, I hope you’ll let me know,”

he insisted, looking at me so intently, as if he didn’t want to miss any reaction that might help him

understand what was going on with me.

“No! It’s not that. I’m just overwhelmed these days with everything,” I

lied, anxiously rubbing my palms together.

“Is school going well?” Lord Atwood asked. tilting his head while slowly adjusting to eat.

“Yeah!” I lied again, slurping on the noodles.

Since I had left the door open. I didn’t really expect any visitors, but sure enough, someone had

seen Lord Atwood come to my room.

“You’re not going to cat with us. Dad?” Cain intervened, not even stepping into the room.

“No! I will eat here with my daughter.” Lord Atwood mumbled, getting a nod from Cain..

I sneakily looked behind Lord Atwood at Cain, who was leaning against the doorframe and staring

blankly at me. I could tell he had something to say but kept silent and left. After Dad and I finished.

dinner, the maid grabbed the dishes and left.

Lord Atwood also left the room, but I was now considering having a talk with Cain. I didn’t know

where we stood. I needed to know what was going on and what their plans were regarding me. And

for that, a conversation was a must.

After midnight, when I was certain he would be in his studio, I left my room and, as always, found

his studio door open. Peering inside, I didn’t expect much but to find him shirtless and painting

something on the canvas. But I was mistaken! I had intervened at the wrong time.

He was sitting on his chair, his shirt messily raised, and his hands in his pants. A lump formed in my

throat when I realized he was busy pleasuring himself. He closed his eyes and leaned his head

back, grunting, “It is bad manners.”

141 His Hand in His Pants

My body jumped, but I was quick enough to compose myself and look

away.

“I was just hoping to have a conversation with you. But I guess I came at the wrong time,” I

mumbled under my breath, quickly stepping back, but his voice stopped me.

“You can come in.” he said.

But you’re occupied, and I can see you don’t plan to stop anytime soon,” I muttered with a puzzled

expression as I observed him not even withdrawing his hand from his pants.

“Isn’t it inappropriate that I want to have a serious conversation with you while you’re…pleasuring

yourself?” I murmured, averting my gaze because he looked so imposing with his long legs spread

and his body reclined.

His sun–kissed skin made me gulp and clench my jaw.

“Just admit that you wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. Then, okay, you can return later,

hours later,” he remarked, his eyes. darkening as they met mine.

“Aha! You’re good at teasing. I wouldn’t get distracted,” the

competitive part of me, always striving to win and refusing to

acknowledge that it’s normal to feel something in a situation like that, was bound to be my downfall

someday.

“Oh, really?” he retorted with a scoff.

“Yes!” I replied, unsure of what would happen next. I thought I would just make a statement like that

and then retreat to my bedroom, but he was one step ahead of me.

14- Hand in His Parts

“Then why don’t you come inside—ahhhh—so we can have that serious conversation—ugh,” his

eyes rolled back, and his breath quickened, mirroring my own.

I shut my eyes to shield his view before nodding in agreement.

“Sure!” I foolishly stepped inside. Right from that moment, I should have realized that he had won.

As I entered the studio, I watched him slowly lower his pants to adjust his clothing a bit.

I wanted to bring up something from earlier,” I began, crossing my arms over my chest and averting

my gaze.

The painting was no longer in the center of the studio, which was a relief.

“There’s nothing to discuss—you’re not to communicate with Brody again,” he snapped, closing his

eyes in annoyance before eventually relaxing and changing the subject.

“But why? Who am I holding back for?” I inquired, noticing that he had stopped even opening his

eyes.

“Hello?” I grumbled, observing him subtly shifting his hips. A strange desire washed over me as his

eyes remained shut, allowing me to admire every inch of his body without being caught.

He looked incredibly attractive in that moment.

His muscles were well–defined, and his veins stood out. There was a peculiar sense of ease in his

presence, yet also a strong sense of desire that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from. As I gazed at his

disheveled shirt and visible abs, I realized he was right.

141 His Hand In His Ponts

I craved that.

“You know what, let me take care of it so we can continue our conversation,” the excuse slipped out

of my mouth, causing him to snap his eyes open.

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