Mr Billionaire's Regret Chasing His Irresistible Wife (Jared and Arielle) novel Chapter 212

(ARIELLE'S POV)

The bathroom door creaked open, and out stepped Dwayne. His hair was damp from a shower, droplets sliding down his broad, muscled chest. For a split second, we both just stared at each other, equally startled.

“Arielle?” His deep voice broke the silence, his brows knitting together in concern.

My mind foggy, I blinked repeatedly to ensure it was indeed him not my hallucination.

"What are you doing in my room?" I asked, trying to sound strong. I looked around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. The bed, the dresser, and everything in it–everything looked like it belonged to me, but something felt off.

“This is my room.” His frown deepened as he stepped further in. “I’ve been staying here since we boarded the ship.”

I shook my head, a feeling of panic enveloping me. "No, no, this is my room," I insisted. "I remember vividly. I was just... just in the..." I paused and tried to recall my earlier actions, but my memories were hazy.

Frustration welled up inside me. "You get the wrong one," I said, louder now, my fingers curling into fists. "I'm sure of it. This is my room." I looked around again, trying to find some piece of evidence to back up my claim. But everything seemed in its place.

Then, my eyes locked on something—a small key card on the bedside table, Dwayne’s name printed on it. My heart skipped a beat, and my breath caught in my throat as I realized the truth.

"Sofia," I muttered as both a wave of discovery and anger hit me simultaneously. "She must have switched our room numbers."

Dwayne’s eyes narrowed as he quickly processed the situation. Then, as the truth settled in, they darkened with disgust. “What’s in her damn head?” He shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're shaking. What's wrong?"

I didn't respond but tried to brush it off, but it seemed my body had other plans. I felt my head spinning as I still tried to process what was Sofia’s whole plan. And then, suddenly, another wave of intense heat hit me. My skin prickled, hot and sensitive, as though every nerve had been set alight.

“She… she did something,” I managed to gasp. My head was spinning, the room blurring around me. “Sofia. The drink…”

My body started to feel like it had been set on fire, and I stumbled in my frantic attempt to get relief.

But Dwayne was swift, and he quickly caught me. His face darkened, and he swore under his breath. Stepping closer, he reached out but hesitated, his hand hovering near my arm. “Arielle, look at me!” He held me upright, his arms draping around me.

I tried to speak, but my words were slurred and raspy. I tried to stay sober, but the burning was overwhelming.

The heat is driving me crazy, and Dwayne's mesmerizing emerald eyes make him like Adam in the Garden of Eden, no, the poisonous snake that tempted others to eat the apple.

My hands moved to my blouse, clawing at the fabric as if peeling it away would cool the fire beneath my skin.

"Shit," Dwayne’s hand shot out, gripping my wrists firmly. “No.” His voice was low, steady, and laced with something I couldn’t quite name. “Don’t do that.”

“It’s killing me…” I whispered hoarsely. “Dwayne... it’s killing me!” Tears welled in my eyes, and I fought feebly against his hand.

His gaze darkened, flickering with something primal before he quickly reined it in. “Arielle, Ostrich, I think I know what's wrong with you,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, rough and intimate. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me. If I do anything right now, we’ll both regret it. Stay with me, okay? Focus.”

I literally couldn’t hear what he said at all. The fire inside me was relentless. I nodded weakly before my vision swimming.

The next second, my knees buckled, and Dwayne caught me before I could hit the ground. He swore again, then scooped me up effortlessly, his arms cradling me against his solid chest. “Come on. You need cold water. Now.”

I barely registered what happened next—the blur of movement, Dwayne’s body still radiating heat as he carried me into the bathroom. The sharp scent of his aftershave mingled with the steamy air, and I felt my pulse quicken coursing through me. He set me down gently, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary, before turning on the cold water in the tub.

The icy water hit me like a slap when he helped me lower myself in, his strong hands steadying me. My body jerked in protest, my skin pebbling from the cold, but it was exactly what I needed. Gradually, the fire began to subside, little by little.

Dwayne stayed by my side, his hands never leaving me as I leaned against the cool porcelain. His shirt was damp from the splashes, clinging to his chest in a way that made it impossible to ignore the chiseled lines of his torso.

His breathing wasn’t steady.

Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, the haze lifted. My limbs felt heavy, my energy drained, but at least the unbearable heat was gone. I looked up at Dwayne, who was crouched beside the tub, his face etched with worry and… something else. Something that made my stomach flip.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it only made the weight of what had just happened press down harder. It felt humiliating, and I resented myself for losing control like that. The memories of how I’d felt burned like a brand in my mind.

“Sorry…” My voice was weak. I should apologize to Dwayne, for the mess of emotions and sensations.

But then I winced when Dwayne reached for my face, his fingers brushing softly over my skin to wipe away the tears I hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. “Just breathe.”

“...Thank you,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

Before he could respond, a voice outside the room made both of us freeze.

“Sir, are you in there? Can you hear me?” a woman’s voice called, each word punctuated with urgency.