Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 273

Victor’s hand moved slowly, caressing her with deliberate tenderness.

Isadora’s cheeks flushed a deep red in an instant.

“You haven’t even showered yet!” she blurted out, flustered.

Victor dipped his head and pressed a playful bite to her slender neck. “Are you saying I smell bad?”

Isadora bit her lip, trying desperately not to cry out.

The next second, the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them: “I don’t like the way you smell right now.”

Victor looked down at her, the corners of his lips quirking up in amusement, teasing laughter glinting in his eyes.

Under that gaze, Isadora’s face burned even hotter, so red she felt like she might combust. Why on earth had she brought up his scent again? There was no denying it now—she really was the jealous type.

Without warning, Victor’s hand slid boldly over her curves. “Want to shower together?”

Isadora’s breath caught, her whole body trembling with anticipation and nerves.

“N-no!” she protested, barely above a whisper.

Victor’s eyes softened, warm and deep like moonlight shimmering over a lake, his voice low and husky, laced with temptation. “If you don’t like it, Isadora, you’ll just have to leave your mark on me instead.”

He didn’t give her a chance to argue. Victor scooped her up from the bed and, with lazy confidence, carried her straight into the bathroom.

Inside, the shower was already running, sending a cascade of hot water down over both of them.

Victor didn’t let her go for a second.

Isadora’s delicate back was pressed against the cool tiles, the contrast of heat and chill making her shiver—and then melt. In that swirl of sensations, she found herself swept up in a rush of pleasure, her senses heightening as their bodies tangled together beneath the spray. With every breath and every touch, they closed the distance between them, until there was nothing left but warmth and the beating of their hearts.

At some point, the lingering scent on Victor’s skin was gone, washed away by the water and replaced by something new—something that belonged to both of them.

By the time they emerged, nearly three hours had slipped by.

Isadora’s fair skin was marked everywhere by Victor’s passionate touch, the evidence impossible to miss. Internally, she cursed him—beast, animal, absolute menace.

Victor, looking satisfyingly content, wrapped her in a towel and patiently dried her soft, damp hair with a blow dryer. Her dark hair tumbled like silk through his fingers, twisting and fluttering as he worked. He watched her the whole time, eyes gentle and brimming with emotion, unable—and unwilling—to hide the depth of his feelings. His gaze was like the tide, overwhelming, inescapable.