Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 242

Chapter 242 Games of Control

Chapter 242 Games of Control

“How much?” she asked, her voice a low murmur.

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Her slender fingers traced a path down her own cheek, over the man’s unconsciously bobbing Adam’s apple, and finally came to rest on the silk tie knotted at his throat. With a desperate, gentle tug, she stirred the restless desire coiled tightly within him.

His breathing hitched, growing heavier. A large, warm hand settled on the exposed U-shaped dip of her lower back, his thumb stroking the bare skin there. If he shifted his hand just slightly to the side, he could reach the very place he ached to touch. Isabelle knew that was his intent-a slow, deliberate encroachment into her space.

She loosened the knot of his tie and slowly drew the length of silk free. With deliberate movements, she used it to blindfold him, plunging his world into a rich, dark Haze. A wild, helpless sound caught in his throat. Deprived of sight, every other sense seemed to sharpen, expand, reaching for her.

“Enough time?” she whispered, hooking her arms around his neck and rising on her toes to seal her mouth to his in a deep kiss.

“More than enough to satisfy you…” he groaned against her lips, the words rough and promising as he returned the kiss with equal fervor.

A

She met him eagerly, her fingers making quick work of the buttons on his crisp dress shirt, pushing the fabric apart to reveal the broad, sculpted plane of his chest. Her palms roamed greedily over the warm skin, their lingering kisses thickening the air around them until their ragged breaths tangled and became one.

But she wasn’t finished. Taking his hand firmly in hers, she led him backward toward the bedroom. He followed like a man in a trance, powerless to resist, utterly surrendered to her will.

Leaning against the upholstered headboard, his chest cool and exposed to the air, he felt adrift, lost in a sensuous haze. It was as if a hundred different versions of her were gliding over him, exploring every inch from head to toe, leaving no patch of skin untouched.

Damian gripped the bedsheets tightly at his sides, his breaths coming in heavy, strained pulls. It felt like this woman had unlocked something wild and new in herself-her curiosity was insatiable, her exploration only growing bolder.

*****

In another suite, Brian was settled on the plush sofa, a stack of documents resting on his knee. The steady rush of water from the adjacent shower, where Diana was cleaning up, provided a steady background hum. The frosted glass dropoutlined the enticing curve of her figure.

He set the papers aside, crossing one leg over the other, his gaze fixed thoughtfully on the glass door. A pen spun idly between his fingers. Suddenly, the shower door cracked open, and Diana peeked out. Brian swiftly averted his eyes, feigning interest in the ceiling.

“Brian, I don’t have any clothes to change into.”

Her outfit was still back in the poolside locker room. In the whirlwind of coming here, she’d completely forgotten about it, and during her shower, her mind had been too preoccupied with thoughts of him to remember her practical needs. She hadn’t planned on staying over-no room booked, and getting one at this resort on short notice was next to impossible.

“Just come out. It’s not like I’m a stranger,” he replied, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. Hadn’t he seen and touched every part of her before? Even that tiny, faint freckle near her most intimate spot he could find it in the dark. A memory flashed, vivid and warm-how she used to arch into his touch, a soft sigh escaping her when he’d press his lips right there.

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Chapter 242 Games of Control

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The recollection sent a flush of heat across her cheeks.

“I didn’t exactly pack an overnight bag either,” he added casually, pouring salt on the wound.

Diana gritted her teeth. Isn’t he Mr. Hughes? Having his assistant run out to fetch something or arrange for a resort boutique deliv would have been trivial. He is absolutely doing this on purpose, making things difficult.

He pretended to refocus on his documents, the picture of innocence.

Left with no other option, Diana wrapped herself securely in a fluffy white bath towel and stepped out of the bathroom. She padded over to the far end of the large sofa and reached for her phone, intending to call Isabelle.

Sensing her move, Brian remarked without looking up, his tone leisurely, “I wouldn’t call Isabelle right now if I were you.”

“That’s none of your concern,” Diana retorted, fingers hovering over the screen.

Brian let out a low chuckle. “Suit yourself. But if you want a play-by-play of what they’re probably up to in bed right now, I can paint you a pretty accurate picture.”

Horrified at the implication, Diana ended the call before it could connect. Instead, she dialed the front desk, asking politely if someone could retrieve her clothes and belongings from the pool changing area. Calling Isabelle at a moment like this was admittedly, a terrible idea.

“Have something to eat first. You can rest in the bedroom when you’re done,” Brian said, gesturing with his chin toward the coffee table.

A simple plate of club sandwiches and a glass of cold milk sat waiting. Not one to refuse food-she’d been out all day and had barely eaten-Diana picked up a sandwich triangle and took a hearty bite.

“Why did you all decide to come up here so early today?” she asked between mouthfuls.

“If we hadn’t,” Brian replied, not lifting his eyes from the papers he was now quietly flipping through, “the prime rib would’ve been gnawed on by stray dogs.”

Diana almost choked on her sandwich, a surprised laugh turning into a cough. She took a quick sip of milk to wash it down.

Just then, the melodic chime of the doorbell echoed through the suite.

Both their heads turned toward the entrance.

“Your clothes,” Brian stated, making to stand up.

Γ

“I’ll get it,” Diana said quickly, scrambling to her feet. In her haste, she forgot she was still holding her half-full glass of milk. As she moved past him, the edge of her towel caught and began to slip. She fumbled to catch it, her other hand jerking involuntarily-and the glass tipped.

A stream of cold milk arced through the air. The spill itself wouldn’t have been a catastrophe, except for its trajectory. It landed with a soft splash directly on Brian, the liquid tracing a wet, white path from the defined muscles of his abdomen down the front of his

tailored trousers.

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