Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 750

o his arms.

Claudia held her breath. Her left hand rested against his shoulder, damp with sweat, and the air around them was thick with his scent–clean, masculine, almost overwhelming.

She pressed her lips together, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. She hadn’t even noticed when she’d started blushing.

But wait–hadn’t Lowell said he was out of town?

Hadn’t he mentioned Harold wouldn’t be available for the next few days?

“Did you get your glasses?” Harold glanced at her, noting her flustered expression.

“Yeah, I got them.”

Her voice came out shaky. She was so nervous she could barely breathe steadily, her throat tight and dry.

Harold carried her to the passenger side, careful to avoid her injured hand, and fastened her seatbelt.

Every moment near him lately left Claudia feeling short of air–like her lungs just wouldn’t work right.

Even her breathing was embarrassingly uneven.

“What’s wrong?” Harold frowned, still leaning against the open door after buckling her in.

He was close. Too close.

“I…” She trailed off, unsure what to say.

“You’re scared of me.” He said it flatly, as if stating a fact.

A low, quiet scoff escaped him.

Claudia dared a look at his face–really looked–then turned away almost immediately.

There was a faint irritation in his eyes. “I’m wearing long sleeves. It’s not like I’m shirtless. And it’s not like you haven’t seen me without a shirt before. So why are you still so nervous?”

Her eyes widened.

Was that why he’d been covering up? Because he thought she was uncomfortable around him?

She’d just assumed Harold was really into layers, even in this heat.

But wearing long sleeves every day in summer… that had to be miserable.

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Chapter 750 The Question

+5 Free Comis

Then it hit her–all at once.

He knew sign language. Reading lips was no problem for him. He must have understood every word of that conversation with Darrell.

And Darrell had said something like, “You’re totally freaked out by guys with big muscles…”

Was that why Harold had been dressing like he was headed to a formal event in the middle of July every time he saw her since then?

And that other part-“Yeah, I do like him!”

Did he know about that, too?

She swallowed hard. Mystery solved.

Oh, god. This was beyond awkward.

“Claudia.” Harold reached out and gently tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

He wasn’t gripping her–just guiding, his touch almost absent.

And like a fool, she let him.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said, his voice low and deliberate.

If he really wanted to do something, clothes wouldn’t stop him. Hell, turn off the lights and it wouldn’t matter what either of them was wearing.

Claudia’s face burned. She couldn’t even argue. Of course she was scared.

But the look in his eyes–tough, but with a hint of something almost vulnerable—

She’d married a man she’d known for less than twenty–four hours. Sure, she’d braced herself to walk into the unknown, but preparing for something and actually living it were two completely different things.

She only grew more flustered.

Right now, part of her almost wished something would just happen already, if only to break this , unbearable tension.

She could feel his presence like a slow–burning fire, eating away at her composure bit by bit.

She sank deeper into the passenger seat, feeling boneless.

Harold, on the other hand, was wound tight. Desire sparked under his skin, restless and unruly.

And he hadn’t even done a thing.

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Chapter 750 The Question

Funny, how they were both thinking about exactly the same thing…

Just then, Harold’s phone rang.

The sharp, digital sound cut through the haze between them.

He pulled his hand back.

+5 Free Comis

Claudia exhaled in relief–like someone had finally loosened a grip around her throat, letting air rush back

1. in.

Harold answered the call, closed her door, and walked around the hood to take it outside the driver’s side.

A minute later, he slid into the driver’s seat.

She could see the back of his shirt, dark with sweat, leaving a damp imprint on the leather when he sat

down.

She wanted to say, “You’d look good in a short–sleeve shirt, you know.”

But the words stuck in her throat. How was she supposed to clear this up without making it even more embarrassing?

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