Strings Attached

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The moment I opened the door to the master bedroom, Isabelle's arms tightened around me and I knew she was scared of the unknown, but I wouldn't give her the choice to sleep in her own room. That might have added more cause to her perception that I was a cruel bastard, but—for some fucked up reason that I wasn't willing to analyze—I couldn't stand the idea of being away from her. Reluctantly, I lowered her body to the floor and took a step towards her, following this insane instinct that pushed me to erase even the shortest distance between us.

The strands of her wet hair clung to her collarbones and her skin was sprinkled with the remaining droplets of rain. That long nightgown was glued to her skin and it was completely see-through. I tried to be as gentlemanly about it as possible, but her small firm breasts were showing through the wet satin fabric and I couldn't stop myself from staring. Unblinking, I gazed at the exposed curves of her body as she slowly wrapped her arms over her chest. Blood heated her pale cheeks, returning the color to her frozen skin as the realization of the impact her near nudity had on me seemed to have built in her eyes. But her attempt to protect herself from the scrutiny of my gaze only managed to entice me further and I could feel the temperature rising to a dangerous degree of sheer madness.

I swallowed hard, remembering my earlier reasoning about sex. The fact that I was soaking wet, chilled to the bones and at the verge of passing out from exhaustion still didn't fucking stop me from wanting her. This attraction that drew me to Isabelle was off the charts and it was unlike anything I'd ever felt before—insanity that ran in my veins like poison. Letting out a harsh breath, I decided it was time to get ready for bed before these thoughts escalated and the situation got out of control. The last remains of reason told me she might freak out if I tried to initiate any kind of intimacy and I definitely wasn't in the right set of mind to deal with anymore female outbursts today.

Trying to distract myself from temptation that stood only inches away, at the reach of my hand, I averted my eyes from Isabelle and started taking off my wet clothes with methodical care. My chest was already bared and I started removing the belt around my waist when I heard Isabelle's meek, frightened voice.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

Pausing, I lifted my eyes to her face, but she wouldn't look at me.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I asked, stunned to see the level of her discomfort.

"Don't—" Her voice cracked and I cut her off, suddenly remembering that empty threat I'd made in the garden.

"I'm taking off my wet clothes," I explained softly. "You should do the same unless you want to catch a cold."

Shivering in that wet nightgown that clung to her skin, she didn't make a move to remove it. Instead, it seemed like she tried to make herself as small as possible in my presence. Though it was clear she felt uncomfortable with the idea of taking off her clothes in front of me, I was adamant to make her understand this was no time for propriety.

Exhaling, I approached her and took hold of her wrists without offering any explanation. Her eyes widened in alarm as I slowly moved her arms to her side and let my eyes roam the length her revealing, dirty nightgown. A deep crude blush inflamed her face and the undeniable evidence of her shyness made my lips twitch in a shadow of a smile.

"Take it off. It doesn't leave anything to imagination anyway," I instructed softly, my eyes still glued to her body.

The remark seemed to have made her upset and suddenly, I remembered she didn't have anything to wear. I contemplated on allowing her to go change in her room, but I decided against it, opting to find something in my own wardrobe. The walk in closet which was connected to my room was huge, but organized to the point of perfection and it took me a moment to find an old navy T-shirt that would fit her.