Chapter 425 Visual Impact
The next morning.
It had been another exhausting night, leaving Evelyn utterly drained. She was both tired and unable to sleep in, woken up by the ache in her waist.
Actually, he did quite well. She wondered if Eric had shown him something he shouldn't have, which improved his technique.
In the past, he was always so reckless, but at least this time he understood a bit of foreplay.
But she couldn't handle him going at it until the middle of the night.
With these thoughts, Evelyn, lazy as a little wildcat, lay on the big bed, squinting her eyes and licking her lips, which were a bit swollen from Edward's kisses.
Suddenly, she sat up abruptly and found that Edward was gone!
Evelyn's heart skipped a beat as she reached out to touch the spot beside her.
The bed no longer had Edward's warmth, so he must have been gone for a while.
She leaned against the headboard, feeling an inexplicable emptiness in her heart.
Last night, Edward had made her pant and scream, and now Evelyn was so thirsty that her mouth was dry. She didn't care where he went and got up to go downstairs for some water.
She had just reached halfway down the stairs when she heard noises coming from the kitchen.
It smelled a bit fragrant. And a bit burnt?
Evelyn's nerves tensed up, and she hurried barefoot to the kitchen.
The sight before her was a strong visual impact!
She saw Edward's strong figure facing her, wearing an apron, looking so out of place that it made her want to laugh.
But it only accentuated his great physique, broad shoulders, narrow waist, with his shirt sleeves casually rolled up, revealing the solid and beautiful muscle lines of his arms. When he exerted a little force, his muscles tightened, looking powerful and well-defined, like walking hormones.
Evelyn's watery eyes squinted as she quietly walked up behind him.
Because she was barefoot, she made no sound as she walked, so even when she was right behind him, Edward was unaware.
A puff of steam rose from the frying pan, and Edward raised his hand to wipe the sweat trickling down his cheek, sighing in frustration.
"Burnt again."
It was only then that Evelyn noticed the trash can beside him, already filled with many burnt eggs.
"Idiot, your heat is too high, the oil temperature is too high. At this rate, even a whole chicken farm's eggs wouldn't be enough for you."
Edward's heart skipped a beat, and he turned around abruptly, meeting Evelyn's cat-like squinting eyes.
"Did I wake you?" He asked nervously.
"No, my biological clock woke me up. I don't have the habit of sleeping in."
Evelyn pointed to the trash can and mocked, "Good thing William didn't see this. He hates wasting food. He might make you pick them up and eat them all."
"In the army, we didn't waste food either. Picking it up and eating it is no big deal," Edward replied nonchalantly.
It wasn't like he hadn't done it before.
Evelyn knew he could be stubborn sometimes, and he might actually do it, so she quickly waved her hand, "I was joking, Mr. Wellington. Don't eat it, it's not that serious."
"I underestimated cooking. Watching May do it, I thought it was simple. But now that I'm doing it myself, I realize it's a technical barrier I can't overcome."
Edward looked at the mess he had made of the stove, feeling guilty. "I remember you used to cook for me. It must have been tiring and took a lot of effort."
Evelyn blinked, feeling a mix of emotions.
"I wanted you to wake up to breakfast I made, but now it seems I'll have to ask Bart to buy some."
Edward frowned slightly, smiling awkwardly, "Evelyn, I'm sorry. Give me some more time to practice, and I'll get better."
Evelyn saw through his thoughts at a glance.
Edward, who hadn't stepped into the kitchen in three years of marriage. May said it wasn't just her; Edward had always been like this since he was a child, saying he hated the smell of oil and smoke.
That smell always reminded Edward of living in the slums with Amanda, where the nearby restaurants had poor hygiene. From morning till night, he could always smell the smoky, greasy odor while lying in bed. No matter how hard he tried to wash their clothes, the sticky oil smell never went away.
Now, Edward was willing to cook for her, to do things he never would have done before.
He cherished her, willing to ignore all his boundaries and principles for her.
A warm current surged in Evelyn's chest as she gently pushed the silly Edward standing in front of her.
"Alright, don't mess up my house. I'll do it."
Suddenly, she couldn't help but cough heavily. The oil smoke had triggered her smoke allergy.
This idiot, didn't know how to turn on the range hood?
"Evelyn, what's wrong? Did you catch a cold?" Edward's heart tightened again.
Evelyn covered her mouth and nose, "It's nothing. I'm just a bit allergic to smoke. Opening the window for ventilation will help."
Smoke allergy?
Edward's heart sank heavily!
When did she develop this condition? Or had she always had it, but he just never knew?
So, for three years, she cooked for him and the entire Wellington family, enduring the pain of her allergy.
Evelyn had just picked up the kitchen utensils when Edward tightly hugged her from behind.
"How can I cook like this?"
"Don't cook anymore, ever."
Edward buried his face in her neck, breathing heavily, his heartache making his eyes red, "From now on, I'll do it. Whatever you want to eat, I'll make it. I'll learn."
"Forget it, you have no talent for this. I can't count on you."
Suddenly, Evelyn's pupils shrank, and she bit her lip, feeling like she had said something wrong.
What she said sounded so much like a married couple.
As if she had accepted that they would live together forever!
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