It shouldn’t have been arousing, watching Ejiro as he began to prepare the food. The way his hands deftly moved across the chopping board was nothing short of artful. He genuinely seemed to get lost in his own world, not feeling the need to fill in the silence. For some odd reason, Obiora felt something thick build up in the back of his throat—pure, aching longing rising inside him like the tide. The silence between them already felt full, sweet and easy, like they did this all the time.
