The kitchen was warm, the dim light flickering against the tiled walls. The only sound was the slow, deliberate chopping of Mex’s knife against the cutting board. But his focus wasn’t on the food—his dark eyes kept flickering toward the girl sitting on the kitchen slab
Ella sat there, legs crossed, swinging slightly, her tiny maid dress barely covering her soft skin. The straps clung weakly to her shoulders, threatening to slip at any moment. And when she stretched, shifting her position, the hem lifted dangerously high
Mex swallowed hard, gripping the knife tighter. He knew she was teasing him. He could feel it
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