Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 273

Chapter 273 A Romantic Stroll

Chapter 273 A Romantic Stroll

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“Are you getting on or not? If not, I’ll just stay crouched here and let everyone have a good look. Do me a favor.” His tone held a hint of playful, almost beseeching, teasing.

Isabelle clenched her jaw and finally climbed onto his back. She rested her hands lightly on his shoulders and buried her face against the side of his neck.

Why wasn’t he the slightest bit self–conscious?

With other people still strolling nearby, it felt incredibly awkward.

Damian felt the soft press of her body against him, conforming to the planes of his broad back until there was barely any space between them.

He gave a slight, satisfied bounce to adjust her position, and Isabelle, startled, instinctively tightened her arms around him.

The evening still held a slight chill, but pressed against him, she didn’t feel it at all.

His body radiated heat, as it always seemed to run warm.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” he said with a low laugh.

Truthfully, he loved this feeling. It was deeply satisfying.

Pampering her seemed to bring him a simple, profound sense of joy.

Isabelle had been self–reliant for so long. Gary hadn’t been one to spoil her; he didn’t really know how to show affection–he only ever moved his lips to offer words, not comfort.

So, Damian’s small, tangible acts of care still made her feel a little unsteady, a little unfamiliar.

Damian turned his head slightly and caught sight of the woman hiding against his neck like a shy creature seeking shelter. A soft smile touched his lips.

“Damian, put me down,” she murmured, her warm breath whispering against the skin of his neck and shoulder.

She was a little worried about his leg.

“I just want to carry you.”

Damian’s tone brooked no argument. The temperature around his ears seemed to spike instantly, his Adam’s apple bobbed in a natural swallow, and his heartbeat began a slow, steady acceleration.

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Chapter 273 A Romantic Stroll

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Isabelle thought she could hear the faint, controlled rhythm of his breathing–something you wouldn’t notice unless you were listening closely, pressed this close.

“Am I too heavy?” she asked quietly.

“No…” His voice was a low rumble, strained but not from her weight.

“Is your leg bothering you? Put me down. I can walk.” Isabelle gave his shoulder a light pat.

“Something is bothering me, but it’s not my leg…” He let out a soft, wry chuckle.

He wasn’t even sure at what precise moment the ache of desire had sparked within him.

Maybe the moment she climbed onto his back, or perhaps when she whispered into his ear.

Damian felt a flicker of madness at losing control like this, out in the open.

“What’s bothering you then?” Isabelle tilted her head to try and see his expression.

“That’s something you might have to help me with later, baby…”

Understanding dawned on Isabelle all at once.

She buried her face even deeper against him.

Damian quickened his pace the rest of the way home.

He was still carrying her when his phone rang in his pocket.

Once inside, Isabelle slipped off his back, gathered her things, and headed for the bathroom to shower. By the time Damian finished his call and tried the bathroom door, he found it locked from the inside.

He couldn’t help a quiet chuckle, shaking his head at the firmly shut door. The sound of running water from within struck him as both amusing and deeply tempting.

The last time in the bathroom, she hadn’t been able to hold herself together at all.

And the man behind her had been utterly, blissfully deaf to the world outside that steamy enclosure.

Seeing Damian’s shadow pause outside the frosted glass door, Isabelle felt her face flush with renewed heat.

She didn’t make a sound, simply continued with her shower.

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Chapter 273 A Romantic Stroll

She couldn’t bring herself to respond.

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Damian retreated to the walk–in closet, selected a change of clothes for himself, and then waited quietly in the bedroom.

It took Isabelle about half an hour to emerge. She had washed her hair, and it lay damp against her shoulders and back.

Damian walked over to her, his dark gaze sweeping over the sleek, black lace–trimmed slip she

wore.

The nightgown was made of satin, the black fabric catching the light with a subtle sheen- elegant and quietly alluring. The thin spaghetti straps looked delicate, as if they might give way with the slightest tug.

This one, at least, wasn’t sheer.

“Don’t catch a chill. Come here, let me dry your hair for you.” Damian took her hand and guided her to sit on the edge of the large bed.

Isabelle complied quietly. Over the past weeks, he had taken to drying her hair, and she realized with a start that she had already grown accustomed to being cared for by him in this way. The thought of him being away on a business trip for a whole month sent a pang of melancholy through her; she would have a hard time adjusting to his absence.

Damian picked up the hairdryer, switched it to a warm, gentle setting, and began skillfully drying her long hair.

Isabelle was lost in thoughts of his impending trip, her mind drifting.

Having done this several times now, he had become adept. As he worked, his fingers combed through the strands, his slightly calloused fingertips occasionally brushing against the nape of her neck and the smooth slope of her shoulders. His touch carried a trace of heat that seemed to brand her skin.

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