Fated Marriage Spoiled by My Ice Billionaire novel Chapter 52

"I can do it myself," Isabelle said, scrambling to sit up. But Damian was faster, sitting down on the edge of the sofa right beside her hip, effectively trapping her between him and the cushions.

Instantly, the warmth at her side intensified, a scalding heat that quickly spread through her whole body. Even through two layers of thin silk, she could feel the temperature of his skin. It was intense.

She swallowed hard and tried to scoot inward, but Damian simply followed, closing the gap as if she was making room for him.

"Lie back." His words held no particular emotion, more like a simple command.

Almost without thinking, Isabelle obeyed, sinking back into the cushions. She turned her head toward him, exposing the graceful line of her neck and the faint, red scratch.

Damian gently pulled the collar of her top aside for a better look. His thumb brushed her delicate skin, and a jolt shot through her, leaving a tingling numbness.

Isabelle's fingers clenched, gripping the fabric of her clothes tightly.

The scratch ran from her neck down toward her collarbone. It wasn't deep, just a red mark with a hint of dried blood, stinging a little.

"The flowers are beautiful. I like them," he said.

"Mm."

As soon as she made the soft sound of acknowledgment, a cool sensation bloomed across her collarbone.

With one hand, he undid the top three buttons of her top and eased the fabric over her shoulder, revealing a black bra strap and a hint of soft curve beneath.

He paused, his gaze fixed on the smooth skin, his eyes darkening.

Isabelle had beautiful collarbones and a perfectly graceful neck—she knew it herself. What man wouldn't notice?

"Maybe I should just do it myself," she pleaded, her voice trembling slightly.

Damian let out a low chuckle, amused by her nervousness. "Relax. Your husband isn't an animal. I won't take advantage."

He pushed the thought aside, unscrewed the cap of the antiseptic, dabbed some on a cotton swab, and began carefully applying it to the scratch.

"About the wax flowers... I just picked them on the way back from dinner. It wasn't a special trip or anything." She broke the awkward silence, trying to lighten the mood and clear up any misunderstanding.

But the words just made the tension worse. Way to go, Isabelle. Sound any more guilty, why don't you?

"I know," Damian said simply.

He finished treating the scratch quickly but made no move to get up. Instead, he set the antiseptic aside and stayed seated, starting to trim the stems of the wax flowers...

Meanwhile, Isabelle was still pinned on the sofa. If she tried to sit up now, they'd have even more full-body contact. No escape. I'm doomed.

Stuck, she lay still and picked up her phone, sending a silent SOS.

She took a photo from her current angle and sent it to the group chat.

Isabelle sent, "Trying to leave. How?"

April sent, "Look at those arm muscles! That solid chest! Girl, you are so lucky!"

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