Esra had texted him saying she was going to be late that day and that she would eat dinner with her colleagues. Ozan had asked her to let him know when she made plans, just so he didn't worry about her. He still didn't trust the big city enough, and he knew she trusted it too much.
He looked down at his phone feeling a little deflated. It was one of the few days he had come home early. The time that he had left to spend with her felt like a fast approaching deadline. Another week had passed and she was already shortlisting new places to move to. He found himself rushing home from work more often than not.
Maybe he would cook something, he decided. His famous pasta sauce. The only thing he could make, really. He set about following the instructions like he always did, down to the last teaspoon of salt. It was just the way his brain worked - method and order to everything.
His mom had barely cooked, and the few times he had watched Esra, he had been baffled by how she was just randomly threw in herbs and spices and the dish somehow still turned out good.
He tasted one last time - yup, perfect as always, he thought, pleased with himself. He headed for a shower, stepping out a few minutes later to hear the exhaust fan in the kitchen running. Had he not turned the gas off and left the fan running? Not bothering to put on a shirt he hurried out of his room...and stopped short.
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Esra was standing over his pot of pasta sauce, the gas on, the fan running, the wooden spatula at her lips as she taste-tested.
"Esra!" he said shocked to see her back early.
She jumped, her hand jerking, and the sauce on the spoon spilling on to her shirt.
"Oh no, I',m sorry!!" he said running to her and grabbing a paper towel. "I didn't mean to startle you."
He swiped once down her shirt and froze. WTF was he doing? He hadn't stopped to think, and his hand was now between her breasts - incredibly hot, but also incredibly inappropriate.
He jumped back and raised his hands, "Sorry, sorry, I didn't meant to..." he waved at her breasts, his ears turning red in embarrassment.
"Ozan!" Esra squeaked, barely finding her voice. There was a very fit, very hot, very half-naked man inches from her, with his hand on her chest, and she felt a jolt of electricity race through her spine. Except.... it was Ozan.
She could not wrap her brain around the contradiction. When had he got so muscle-y, and ripped and...tattooed? She blinked a couple of times, trying to clear her brain of the vision, locking her eyes with his so it didn't accidentally stray down to his very chiseled body. Wait, was that a six-pack? Focus Esra!!
"It's ok, it's ok, " she said taking a step back so she wasn't inhaling the distracting scent of his very masculine soap.
She took a deep breath, and plastered a smile on her face - see? not affected at all.
