Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 561: Yuko’s Guilt

A reluctant smirk flickered in her mind, quickly suppressed. [Hmph. Fine. I’ll apologize. But I’m not going to make it easy for him. If he thinks he can just tease me and get away with it, he’s got another thing coming. I’ll give him a hard time—make him earn every bit of peace he wants from me.]

She was fighting it, I could tell. Yuko wasn’t someone who surrendered easily, especially not to something as dangerous as her own heart.

But it was happening anyway.

She was falling, and the irony was, she didn’t even know it yet.

Then, I deliberately let my footsteps grow louder as I approached, the sound echoing just enough to make her tense. When I finally stepped into her line of sight, I let my expression shift into one of exaggerated surprise, my eyebrows lifting playfully.

"Sister-in-law," I said, drawing out the words with a teasing lilt, as if savoring the way they’d make her react.

Yuko’s entire body stiffened for a fraction of a second, her eyes widening before she could school her features back into neutrality.

A flicker of panic crossed her face—just a shadow—but it was there. She exhaled sharply through her nose, her voice coming out more controlled than I expected.

"Don’t call me that," she snapped, though there was less bite in it than usual. After a pause, she added, almost grudgingly, "Just... call me Yuko. Or sister Yuko. For now."

I could see the internal battle raging behind her eyes, the way her pride warred with something else, something she wasn’t ready to name. She shifted her weight, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeve before she forced herself to still.

Then, in a voice so quiet it was almost lost between us, she spoke again. "That... I..." She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the ground before she forced herself to meet my eyes. "I’m sorry, Jack. For how I’ve been acting. I shouldn’t have—"

I didn’t let her finish. Stepping closer, I raised a hand, cutting her off gently. "I know," I said, my voice soft but firm. "Sister Yuko is too kind and too beautiful to really mean those things she says about wanting to kill me every other day."

I grinned, letting the teasing note in my voice take the sting out of the words. "I get it. You were just looking out for Haruna. I don’t blame you for that."

Yuko’s breath hitched, her eyes flickering with something that looked suspiciously like surprise. She opened her mouth as if to argue, but I pressed on before she could.

"And honestly," I continued, my tone turning more sincere, "If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. I’ve been teasing you relentlessly, and I never stopped to think about how it might come across. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

The air between us was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that hums just beneath the surface, waiting for something—anything—to break it. I stood there, watching Yuko with a quiet intensity, studying the way her expression shifted like storm clouds before a downpour.

One moment, Yuko’s eyes were sharp with defiance, the kind of look that could cut through steel. But then, just as quickly, they softened—her guard slipping for the briefest second—revealing something raw and almost vulnerable.

It was in the little things: the way her fingers twitched at her sides when she thought no one was watching, the way her voice, usually laced with venom, lost its edge when she spoke to me now. It was as if she were standing on the precipice of something she didn’t understand, something that terrified her more than any battle ever could.

She stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable, as if she were trying to decipher whether I was friend or foe. Then, slowly, she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "No," she said, the word heavy with something that wasn’t just frustration. "No, it’s not just you. I... I overreacted. I always do." There was a rawness in her admission, a flicker of something that looked almost like shame.

I watched her for a second, the weight of the moment pressing down on us both. Then, with a small, deliberate smile, I broke the tension. "It’s... okay," I said, my voice light but sincere. "Why don’t we both stop apologizing to each other? It’s getting awkward."

Yuko blinked, as if she hadn’t expected that. For a second, she just stood there, processing. Then, as if suddenly remembering herself, she glanced at the clock on the wall. "I should get dinner ready," she murmured, her voice regaining some of its usual practicality.

"Let me help you," I offered, stepping closer before she could protest.

To my surprise, she didn’t stop me.

We moved to the kitchen together, the space between us charged but no longer hostile. Yuko pulled out the raw ingredients from the refrigerator, her movements efficient and practiced.

I leaned against the counter, watching her for a moment before speaking. "Sister Yuko," I said, my tone playful but laced with sincerity, "why don’t you let me cook? I’ll show you I can take care of Haruna... and make her fatter in the process."

Yuko paused, her hands stilling as she turned to look at me, her expression caught between skepticism and amusement. "You?" she said, one eyebrow arched. "Cook?"

I grinned, rolling up my sleeves with exaggerated confidence. "Don’t underestimate me. I’ve got skills."

She studied me for a long moment, as if deciding whether to trust me or call my bluff. Then, slowly, she stepped aside, gesturing toward the stove with a smirk. "Fine. But if you poison us, I’m holding you personally responsible."

I laughed, already reaching for the knives. "Deal. But fair warning—once you taste my cooking, you’ll never want to let me out of this kitchen."

Yuko let out a snort, but there was a warmth in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. "We’ll see about that," she said, though the corner of her mouth twitched, threatening to break into a smile.

And just like that, the kitchen—once a battleground of sharp words and sharper glares—became something else entirely. A truce. A beginning. A quiet, unspoken promise that maybe, just maybe, we were learning how to exist in the same space without trying to destroy each other.

Or at least, without too much destruction.