?<strong>Chapter 472:</strong>


    The yful banter wrapped around them like a warm nket, dissolving the day’s tension.


    Carrie scrunched her nose, more irked by his smirk than his teasing. This version of Kristopher—the chatty, mischievous one—was somehow more annoying than his usual distant demeanor.


    Kristopher’s attention drifted to a small gift box on the side table. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. “What’s this? A surprise for me?”


    Carrie folded her arms, her pout deepening. “It’s for a certain someone who’s a real pain.”


    Amusement sparkled in his eyes as his grin widened.


    He opened the box, pulling out a sleek tie. Holding it up to his chest, he asked, “What do you think? Does it suit me?”


    Carrie’s gaze traveled to his chiseled features, framed perfectly by the tie. For a moment, words eluded her. Finally, she muttered, “It… looks good.”


    Kristopher tucked the tie back into the box with care. “Great. I’ll wear it to work tomorrow. You can tie it for me.”


    Carrie stifled a yawn, her curiosity surfacing. “Why are you back sote? Where’d you go?”


    Her voice was casual, but the way her neckline dipped slightly as she tilted her head gave her an air of unintentional allure. The soft curve of her corbone caught the light, drawing his gaze for a fleeting moment.


    Kristopher quickly turned his head, hiding the sudden warmth creeping up his neck. “Just office stuff,” he replied.


    But Carrie, uninterested in the details, yawned again and stretched as she rose. “I’m off to shower and hit the hay. I’ve been so sleepytely—it’s like my body’s trying to tell me something.”


    As she turned, Kristopher moved faster, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. His voice dipped, filled with a teasing warmth. “You’re all set for bed, and here I am, starving.”


    She blinked up at him, confused. “You haven’t eaten? What were you doing during all that overtime? Want me to whip up some noodles? I think we’ve got some in the pantry.”


    Kristopher’s gaze fell to her lips, slightly flushed and impossibly tempting. He leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers. “I don’t need noodles,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.


    Before she could reply, his lips brushed hers in a kiss that spoke volumes, the words he left unsaid melting into the warmth of their embrace.


    The kiss stretched on, unhurried and intoxicating. Carrie tilted her head upward to meet his lips. The posture was taxing, and an ache began creeping into her lower back. She tried to break away.


    Kristopher seemed to sense her intention. His arms tightened around her waist, drawing her closer—preventing any possibility of retreat.


    The kiss continued, bing almost suffocating in its intensity. Just as Carrie felt she might lose her breath, she noticed a slight parting of Kristopher’s lips.


    .


    .


    .