Fated Marriage Spoiled by My Ice Billionaire novel Chapter 76

And not just one dress.

"Try them all. Wear whichever one fits best." Damian closed the suite door behind him and took a seat to the side, his gaze following her.

Her face warmed under his attention.

The private suite wasn't large—it contained a bed, a sitting area, and an en-suite bathroom—but in the confined space, she couldn't shake the feeling that something unplanned might unfold between them.

Taking a steadying breath, she began trying on the gowns.

She went through several, each one more exquisite than the last.

Inside the bathroom, she checked the labels. They were all designer pieces, in her exact size, and each fit her flawlessly.

Every ensemble was worth thousands of dollars, if not more.

From his seat, Damian couldn't look away, a potent mix of admiration and restraint tightening his features.

He clenched his fist briefly, pressing it against his forehead as if to steady his thoughts.

Isabelle stepped out from the bathroom. This last dress was a strapless gown with a low back.

"Damian."

"Hmm."

"My hair is stuck."

Isabelle tilted her head slightly. The zipper at the back had caught several strands, pulling sharply at her scalp.

But she noticed the subtle shift in Damian's demeanor first. "What is it?"

"Nothing." His voice was low as he stood and walked over. Isabelle turned, presenting her back to him.

He leaned down, his taller frame bringing him close. The bridge of his nose brushed lightly against her smooth hair, catching a faint, floral scent from her shampoo.

He swallowed, his hands—the veins faintly visible—reaching up to carefully work the delicate zipper free.

The proximity of their bodies sent a current of awareness through the still air.

Isabelle bit her lip.

A tingling sensation spread across her back, and the delicate skin of her earlobes flushed a soft, warm pink.

"It stings..."

"My apologies..."

Damian's voice was slightly strained.

He handled the fabric with extreme care, afraid of causing her more discomfort. "Here, sit down."

Isabelle obeyed, perching on the edge of the bed.

He adjusted his glasses, gathering the freed strands of her hair and draping them carefully over her shoulder before tending to the remaining snag.

It didn't take long.

The zipper slid down smoothly, and the rest of her hair tumbled forward.

A cool draft touched her now-exposed back and shoulder blades.

Damian's lips, which had been pressed into a thin line, parted slightly.

"Belie."

"Hmm?"

Isabelle, about to stand, stilled at the sound of his husky voice just behind her.

"I'll have your afternoon cleared," he said.

"Why?" She started to glance over her shoulder, but his presence surrounded her.

He didn't answer with words. Instead, a searing kiss was pressed against her bare shoulder as his arms came around her from behind, drawing her back against him.

She froze.

His breathing, suddenly pronounced, was audible beside her ear.

"I want..." His lips trailed a path of light kisses from the curve of her shoulder up to the sensitive spot just below her ear.

*****

The designer gown lay forgotten, pooled on the floor beside the bed.

Flushed a deep crimson, she lay against the sheets, not daring to move.

The delicate artificial nails on her ring and index fingers were gone, lost somewhere in the disarray.

Damian slowly lifted his head from the crook of her neck. Even through his glasses, the storm of restraint and desire in his eyes was unmistakable.

"I have to deal with this, sweetheart. Tonight, however..."

The unspoken promise in his low voice hung in the air, leaving no room for doubt about his intentions.

Isabelle's heart hammered against her ribs.

She could hardly process how the last half hour had unfolded.

She had been ready—she just couldn't have initiated it again herself.

The memory of her last bout of boldness had left her shy for weeks.

This time, since he had taken the lead... so be it.

After all, it was inevitable.

They both got up almost in unison, gathering their scattered clothing.

"I already cleared your afternoon. Wouldn't you prefer to rest here for a while?" Damian watched her hurried, flustered movements.

She looked like she was fleeing the scene of a crime.

"I... I should at least go back to my desk," she murmured, her face still aflame.

"I'd advise conserving your energy."

Isabelle retreated into the bathroom and closed the door, shutting out his suggestive words.

He's impossible...

She patted her hot cheeks in the mirror. Faint, telltale marks were visible on her neck and collarbone.

Thankfully, her high-necked sweater would cover them.

By the time she emerged, Damian had already straightened the bed and left the room.

She let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.

Getting fully dressed, she meticulously smoothed her clothes.

Inside, a steady mantra played in her mind.

He was clearly planning to claim what he considered his tonight...