"Got it." Jasmine Yale held the roses in her arms, lowered her head and sniffed them; the fresh fragrance filled her senses.
Sylvan Cheney walked up to her, looked at her, and gently caressed her face.
Right now, she was more beautiful than a rose, probably due to the contrast of the roses and the lights, making her face appear even more delicate.
"You ca ho quite early today, seems like it’s just closing ti?" Jasmine Yale said.
"Yes, I missed you, so I rushed ho."
"That’s not acceptable, you should perform your duties properly since you’re in the position of CEO. You should be thinking about work during working hours, not pining after ."
"Where did you learn this skill of reprimanding people?"
"From you." Jasmine Yale laughed and lifted her head, from her angle she could see Sylvan Cheney’s profound facial contours, "If I were a company shareholder, I wouldn’t trust a distracted CEO like that, I’d be losing a lot."
"You’re quite the sharp-tongued one." Sylvan Cheney pinched her cheek, "I understand, I won’t let it happen again. But what should I do if I can’t control my thoughts of you, hmm?"
"I heard that people only fantasize when they are bored. If you were busy every day, too busy to even drink coffee, you wouldn’t think of ."
"But... yearning has a very special flavor that I quite enjoy, I don’t want to deliberately suppress it." Sylvan Cheney’s soft voice floated above her head.
Jasmine Yale felt a flutter in her chest.
A tingling sensation filled her body.
What is this called? Sweet talk?
He wasn’t so fond of sweet talk before.
Her face flushed slightly, and she pushed his hand away: "If you have the ability to be distracted, I don’t mind you thinking about ."
Sylvan Cheney was quite satisfied with her answer and increasingly felt that she’s turned into a sly little fox after spending so much ti with him.
There’s a saying about the influence of the company one keeps, it seems he’s destined to have rubbed off on her.
Jasmine Yale placed the roses on the table; they really are exceptionally beautiful!
The living room gained a bright accent.
"I’m hungry, Mr. Cheney, will you cook? If not, we can go out to eat."
"Is food outside better than what I make?"
"No." Jasmine Yale winked at him; of course, she wanted him to cook for her personally.
The groceries had already been bought in advance.
Sylvan Cheney knew exactly what she was thinking, took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and headed to the kitchen.
Jasmine Yale followed him like a little helper, occasionally handing him the things he needed.
The kitchen was small, but whenever the aroma spread, it was filled with a warm and holy atmosphere.
He cooked, while she washed fruits and made a fruit platter.
She couldn’t help him much, but once the baby was born, she could cook with him.
His apartnt wasn’t as grand as the old Cheney Residence, but it was the ho she had dread of countless tis, the image of ho.
She didn’t have a happy ho growing up, and she had always longed for one.
As Sylvan Cheney cooked, Jasmine Yale secretly hugged him from behind, pressing her cheek against his back, drawing closer.
"Be careful not to knock anything." He warned.
"I won’t, let hold you for a while." She said coyly.
"Hold for a while and then let go."
"Mm." Jasmine Yale mumbled in agreent.
Yet the longer she held him, the less willing she was to let go, and couldn’t help but snuggle closer.
Sylvan Cheney had no choice but to threaten: "I’ll count to three, if you don’t let go, you’ll go hungry tonight. One, two..."
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