Curtis's movements paused slightly.
He glanced over at Dakota, his eyes slowly scanning her from top to bottom, his expression unreadable. Mrs. Pineda was blushing so hard from the awkwardness, her cheeks were practically glowing red!
Oh, she still liked him. That much was obvious.
She was practically drooling over his body.
Clearly, she preferred her husband not wearing clothes.
Curtis let out a satisfied chuckle, his lips curling into a grin.
Dakota's ears were burning red too, like little cherries. "I... Don't get the wrong idea!"
Death is inevitable, but social death? That's unacceptable.
She started scrambling for an excuse for her gulp earlier. "I was just thinking your body's... alright. If you stripped and stood in my studio, you'd make a decent nude model!"
Nude model… He raised an eyebrow slightly.
Wait a minute. "Yeah," Dakota replied, bracing herself. "It's totally normal for us art students."
But Curtis suddenly leaned in closer, "How many nude models have you used before, Mrs. Pineda?"
Dakota was on the verge of tears.
Ugh…
She had never used any, which was precisely why she was craving his bones, his muscles, his entire body. She just wanted to strip him down and use him as her nude model.
"Plenty," Dakota blurted out, the only thing left was her stubborn pride. "Your body? Middle of the pack compared to them."
Top-tier, though... Ugh.
Those muscle contours, the lines of his veins, the wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist—and the heady mix of hormones and sexual tension practically slapping her in the face as he leaned closer.
She accompanied her friend to see a male dance performance in London, and had never seen a physique that suited her taste so well!
Absolutely top-tier!
Dakota guiltily lifted her eyelids.
She had only intended to steal a glance.
But she didn't expect to lock eyes with Curtis, whose deep, almost affectionate gaze caught her off guard.
"Plenty? Just middle of the pack?" Curtis stared straight at her.
He looked at her unblinkingly.
His eyes were more intense than the most soulful of gazes. The inner corners were sharp and deep, the outer corners lifting into a delicate arch. When he focused all his attention on her, it made her knees feel weak for no apparent reason.
"Yeah, middle of the pack," Dakota said, betraying her true thoughts.
Curtis just let out a lazy chuckle, clearly not believing a word she said.
Suddenly, he straightened up. "Alright, I'll train some more and be ready whenever Mrs. Pineda calls for me."
"Call for what?"
"Didn't you want me as your nude model?"
Dakota: ????!!!
She looked up at Curtis in surprise, clearly not expecting him to roll with her suggestion—or actually agree to be her nude model?
"Really?" Dakota nearly blurted out.
But as soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them, wishing she could dig a hole right there and disappear.
Impulse, pure impulse.
And yet, Curtis nodded. "Really."
Dakota: "..."
"Then you better not regret it." There it was again, that impulse.
Curtis let out a lazy chuckle, the corner of his eyes curving in a way that oddly hinted at indulgence. "I don't regret it."
"But don't worry, I won't make you take off your underwear. I just want to sketch these abs."
Dakota couldn't help herself and reached out to poke.
When her fingertip pressed against Curtis's abs, she distinctly felt that addictive firmness and bounce.
Curtis's lower abdomen tightened.
His voice dropped to a raspy murmur. "Taking them off is fine too."
Dakota's cheeks were flushed.
T-Taking them off wasn't necessary...
Back when she was a kid, stealing his underwear was purely out of childish revenge, plus a bit of immaturity. Her grandmother had scolded her, and her friends had teased her about it ever since.
It was definitely something she would never do again!
Just thinking about it made her cringe with embarrassment.
But in retrospect, it was kind of satisfying to remember how Curtis couldn't find his underwear, forcing him to walk home commando—and that he probably had more of a mental scar from it than she did.
Dakota couldn't help but curve her lips into a smile.
Curtis noticed that little detail.
So, agreeing to be her nude model and letting her poke his abs was all it took to make her this happy?
A mischievous grin spread across his face.
After Dakota went back to her room, he sent a message to Tyrese: "Dating is so sweet."
Tyrese: ?
Are you sure Dakota's even paying attention to you?
Dating? More like wishful thinking, buddy.
Dakota was completely bewitched by the thought of using his abs as artistic material.
She turned and went back to her room, only to realize she hadn't even asked the most important question. So she pulled out her phone and texted Curtis through the wall.
【 Dakota 】：Beep beep.
【 Puppy 】：？
【 Puppy 】： Still want to see my abs?
【Dakota】："..."
【Dakota】：I was going to ask what time you're leaving tomorrow. My car ran out of gas, so I left it by the museum. Can I catch a ride with you?"
It took Curtis a good while to reply to her message.
Dakota lay sprawled on the bed, propping her cheek with one hand, idly flipping through diagrams of human muscle structure as she waited for a certain temporary chauffeur named Curtis to respond.
Knock knock knock—
At that moment, there was a sudden knock on the door.
Dakota raised her eyes and then, pressing down the hem of her pajama dress, got up and ran to open the door. Sure enough, it was Curtis coming over from the neighboring room.
But this time, he had changed his clothes.
A silk navy blue pajama top hung loosely, making his naturally pale skin appear even more cool and tempting.
"Eight o'clock." He said lazily.
Curtis nonchalantly had one hand in his pocket, the other arm resting on the doorframe of Dakota's room.
Dakota looked at him strangely, "Couldn't you have just told me via phone? Just these words?"
And yet, he insisted on coming over to tell her in person.
Curtis lifted his chin casually, "It's just a wall between us, mainly I wanted to come over to say—"
He suddenly leaned closer.
Close enough that Dakota could see herself reflected in his clear, dark pupils, "Goodnight."
Dakota: ???
"Pound——"
She slammed the door of the room shut without any consideration, leaving Curtis, who was trying to flirt with his wife, outside.
Dakota just felt he was a bit strange.
She turned around blankly and lay back down to continue studying the diagrams of human muscles and skeletal structures.
Recalling Curtis's unusual behavior earlier,
She threw her phone away in frustration, rolled over to look up at the ceiling, blinking—
Has he gone crazy?!
In the morning, Dakota was woken up on time by the alarm clock. Reluctantly, she snuggled into her blanket, then lazily reached out to silence the annoying alarm.
The bedroom fell silent again.
She closed her eyes trying to fall back asleep.
But within two minutes, Dakota angrily sat up, her disheveled hair sticking to her clean cheeks and piling loosely around her neck and shoulders.
Dakota was very unhappy.
She had quite a temper upon waking, every morning being the worst moment of her day.
But workers must keep working.
Even if she was unhappy, she couldn't fire her boss.
So Dakota still got out of bed, lazily slipping into her slippers and walking into the bathroom to wash up.
In the dining room downstairs,
Curtis had already gotten up early to make breakfast.
Reagan wasn't lying. Although the men of the Pineda family were one worse than the other, they indeed were good at cooking. The aroma lured Dakota into the kitchen as she came downstairs.
Today, Curtis was wearing a white shirt.
Compared to the black he usually wore, today's outfit made him appear a bit more refined and noble.
But he always wore his clothes casually.
The diagonal double-button cuffs were completely open, with two exquisite black-gold cufflinks on the sides. Perhaps for convenience while cooking, he had rolled his left sleeve up to his forearm.
The cuff caught the veins and tension on his forearm, and with each movement of the spatula, it was incredibly sexy.
Dakota glanced at the well-defined veins and muscles on his forearm before leaning in with a playful grin, "Chef Curtis, huh?"
"Let me see what delicious things you've made for breakfast?"
Curtis hadn't noticed the person behind him.
Until Dakota spoke, he realized she had already gotten up and come downstairs, not knowing how long she had been watching.
Curtis glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
He pressed his thumb against her forehead and gently pushed her back. "Mind giving the princess a little space?"
"Don't crowd around the stove, the smoke is heavy. Chef Curtis is frying up some hash browns over here, be careful not to get splattered by the oil."
Though he was playing along with her calling him "princess," he did so in a lazy drawl, somehow affectionate.
Dakota obediently pulled her head back.
But she remained in the kitchen, looking curiously at what was on the countertop, "Tsk."
"What are you tsk-ing about?" Curtis glanced at her again.
He plated the freshly fried hash browns, golden and crispy, looking perfectly crunchy on the outside. With each bite, you could hear the satisfying crackle, but the texture inside was soft and tender.
Dakota crossed her arms in front of her, leaning against the wall looking at him, "Just never thought that you, are actually good at cooking, not acting like a prince of a wealthy family at all."
Curtis chuckled softly.
He held the potato pancake in one hand and pushed Dakota's waist with the other, leading her out, "Isn't it true that a prince has to serve his princess after marriage? Who else but you could be my nemesis?"
