Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 421

Chapter 421 

Marcus’ POV 

“I’ll help you with the pasta,” I offered, taking off my coat and rolling up the sleeves of my shirt while Madeline arranged the ingredients on the kitchen counter. 

“That would be great,” she said, but there was something different in her voice. Something I couldn’t quite identify. 

We started working side by side. I measured the flour while she cracked the eggs. It was a simple, domestic routine. Something that should have felt completely normal. But almost immediately, I noticed Madeline was acting… strange. 

First, she dropped an egg on the floor. When she bent down to clean it up, she stayed in that position far longer than necessary, in a way that emphasized the curves of her body. When she straightened up, we were suddenly very close, and she lingered there a few seconds before stepping away. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, though she didn’t look sorry at all. 

We kept working, and the little “accidents” kept happening. Madeline brushed against me several times while reaching for ingredients. She asked for my help grabbing a bowl from a shelf she could have easily reached on her own, positioning herself so I had to lean over her. When she mixed the dough, her movements were unnecessarily slow and fluid. 

“It’s hot in here, don’t you think?” she said, sliding a hand along her neck in a deliberately unhurried motion. 

I glanced around the kitchen, which felt perfectly normal for a winter day. 

“A little,” I answered absently, focused on kneading the dough. 

She let out a soft sigh, one that seemed to carry far more meaning than the moment required. When I turned to grab the rolling pin, I caught her watching me with an intensity that made me frown. 

“Everything okay?” I asked. “You’re acting kind of… different.” 

“Different how?” she asked, stepping closer than necessary to inspect the dough. 

“I don’t know. More…” I searched for the right word. “Energetic?” 

She laughed, but there was a hint of frustration in the sound. 

“Energetic,” she repeated, as if the word completely missed the point. 

We kept working, and her strange behavior only escalated. She licked her fingers slowly when tasting the sauce. Commented on how “strong” I was when I opened a stubborn jar of tomatoes. Dropped a utensil and bent down again in a way that drew attention to parts of her body I was trying very hard not to think about. 

It was impossible not to notice. Of course it was. But Madeline and I hadn’t crossed that line since the Maldives. Since Apollo and Aphrodite. So I did my best not to read too much into it, because if I did, I’d lose my mind. 

“Marcus,” she said, stepping directly in front of me, “can you help me taste this sauce? I want to make sure it’s right.” 

I reached for the spoon, but she shook her head. 

“Like this,” she said, dipping her index finger into the sauce and holding it out to me. 

The gesture was unmistakably suggestive, yet somehow my brain still refused to fully catch up. I tasted the sauce from her finger, acutely aware of how closely she was watching my mouth. 

“It’s perfect,” I said. 

She smiled. 

And that smile had nothing to do with seasoning. 

“Stop,” I cut in firmly, crossing the space between us in two long strides. “Stop right now.’ 

I gently pulled her hands away from her face and made her look at me. 

“I wasn’t laughing at you,” I said, my voice low and intense. “I was laughing at myself. For being completely blind and not realizing that the most beautiful woman in the world was trying to seduce me.” 

Before she could argue, I captured her lips with mine, just for a brief moment, before trailing kisses down to her neck. 

“You’re beautiful,” I murmured against her skin. “Absolutely stunning.” 

I moved slowly lower, kissing along her collarbone, the soft space between her breasts, continuing down until I reached her gently rounded belly. 

“Magnificent,” I whispered, pressing soft kisses against the skin where our child was growing. “Perfect. Can’t you see what you do to me?” 

I felt her hands tangle in my hair, and when I lifted my head to meet her eyes, the tears were gone. In their place was pure, unmistakable desire. 

“Marcus,” she whispered my name. 

I moved back up, kissing every inch of skin along the way until I claimed her mouth again. This kiss was different. Gone was the careful hesitation of the past weeks. This was hunger, need… months of restrained sexual tension finally breaking loose. 

Without breaking the kiss, I lifted her easily and set her down on the kitchen counter, stepping between her legs. Her hands slid to my face, pulling me closer, and I could feel her heat even through our clothes. 

The kiss exploded into something fierce and overwhelming, months of contained desire finally finding its release.