Fated Marriage Spoiled by My Ice Billionaire novel Chapter 128

She had thought Cross Boutique was a massive company. She never imagined it was just one of his many, much smaller ventures.

Damian chuckled softly, leaning in. He placed his hands on the arms of the office chair, trapping Isabelle between the seat and himself.

Startled, Isabelle leaned back into the reclining chair.

His warm breath cascaded down, and the faint scent of sandalwood washed over her, enveloping her completely in his presence.

Danger is coming.

"For you," he said.

A turbulent intensity swirled in Damian's eyes.

For me? Isabelle swallowed, a wave of nervousness hitting her.

Two simple words, strung together, sparked wild, hard-to-grasp imaginings.

He'd consolidated all his work at this company, just to be closer to her.

Isabelle's heart skipped a beat, ripples of emotion spreading through her.

So this is how much someone can like another person...

"Actually, I..." She really wanted to tell him she was Muddlehead.

Right then, his kiss descended.

It came with a wave of pure masculine energy, pinning her between him and the chair.

Her world tilted; she felt an overwhelming sense of relief and longing, a burning desire finally being quenched.

Her long eyelashes fluttered helplessly, betraying her vulnerability, yet holding a hypnotic power that ensnared him completely.

"I... I have my period..." Isabelle murmured.

Damian's eyes were clouded with desire. Hearing this, he froze, his ardor snuffed out in an instant.

He'd been looking forward to some proper relaxation over the holiday.

Of all times for this to happen...

Damian took a slow, deliberate breath, his gaze fixed intently on her. His voice was ragged and hoarse. "It's fine. There are other ways."

Isabelle froze.

What? What does he want?

Absolutely not!

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

"This... can't happen..." she said.

Damian swallowed hard, looking utterly pitiful. "Please..."

Isabelle looked at him. Shameless!

*****

It was simply torment.

Damian straightened his clothes, a slight, unconscious smile curling his lips.

Her hands are so soft...

He wrapped his arms around Isabelle's waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Their cheeks pressed close.

Damian nuzzled against the crook of her neck, eyes closed. "What do you want to eat? I'll take you."

Isabelle shrank her neck away, ticklish. She still didn't want to talk to him—her wrist ached and was sore even now.

Her face flushed.

Who would've thought the usually stern man could be like this with a woman?

He really has a way with words when he's being suggestive.

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