Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 37

Damian paused, one hand braced against the car door frame as he leaned in to work on the stuck seatbelt buckle.

Isabelle didn't dare move. As he bent down, the unique, clean scent of him enveloped her completely with his proximity.

Kiss him? The thought sprang, unbidden, into her mind. Oh, this is bad...

The sound of the buckle releasing.

"All set..." Damian started to straighten up, but found his arm caught by Isabelle's hand.

He turned his head. Their eyes met.

The space between them seemed to vanish, the air growing thick and charged with the heat of their closeness. His breath, a degree warmer than the chilly evening, fanned against her skin.

Isabelle reached up, covering his eyes with her hand, and without a second thought, leaned in. She brushed her lips lightly against his in a soft, fleeting kiss.

Damian froze in place. His world went dark behind her hand, the only sensation the startling, searing warmth that bloomed from the point of contact on his cool lips.

He swallowed hard, a heavy breath escaping and warming the skin of her neck. The hand gripping the car door tightened, knuckles whitening.

Before he could even process it, Isabelle slowly lowered her hand and gently pushed him back.

Damian took the hint, stepping back, but his gaze remained locked on her, intense and unreadable.

Isabelle got out of the car.

A heavy silence settled between them, as if the kiss had never happened.

Damian glanced at her hands, now buried deep in her coat pockets. His own large hands felt awkward and empty at his sides. He finally reached out, draping an arm around her shoulders, and steered her towards a nearby alley.

Isabelle glanced sideways at the large hand resting on her shoulder. Her heart, which had just begun to calm, started its frantic pounding all over again.

They walked side-by-side down the street, drawing glances from passersby.

"Are they filming a movie? I haven't seen a couple that looks that perfect in ages."

"No camera crew around. How are people that good-looking not famous?"

Damian led her to an old, unassuming diner. "Table for two, please," he said to the server.

"Right this way!" the server replied.

"You speak the local language?" Isabelle asked, surprised.

"No, just learned a few phrases," Damian said, finding them a booth and sitting down. "You're fluent, aren't you? Won't get cheated."

"How did you know about this place?" she asked, scrambling for conversation.

"My mom mentioned she used to come here often with your mom," he said, helping her set the table.

Isabelle nodded. "Oh."

This old diner had been around for years. Isabelle and Caroline came often, and Caroline had brought Regina here for meals whenever she visited. It made sense he'd known about it.

Isabelle looked up at him, then quickly dropped her gaze.

What is this feeling?

I could drown in this feeling.

His body always ran warm, and wrapped in his coat, the heat was almost overwhelming.

Yet just days ago, she had been drowning in the hollow lies of Gary, unable to break free.

In his world, dating meant expensive restaurants, designer clothes, exclusive clubs—pushing her to fit into a lavish lifestyle that only made her feel the distance between them more acutely.

Damian was different. He was here, in this ordinary part of town, squeezed into a tiny diner booth with her, eating simple, hearty food.

They got back to the hotel around ten-thirty.

Isabelle showered first and went straight to bed.

By the time Damian finished his shower, she was already asleep.

Different from the first night, she lay in the middle of the large bed today. Her hands, which usually curled into fists as she slept, were oddly relaxed.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her profile in the dim light. He reached out, feeling her forehead. Normal temperature.

Damian didn't sleep. He just sat there quietly, watching her curled on her side, hugging a pillow. Her blonde waves spilled across the white pillowcase, making her look like a doll.