The Runaway Groom
Chapter 839

Obviously, the sleeping gown Irene was wearing had no pants either. She smiled faintly, and even that expression seemed to have an additional tinge of coquettishness. "Yeah. Want some?"

For the first time, Isaac was being teased.

His dark eyes twinkled as he smiled, and his voice was as quiet as it was deep. "Yeah."

Hence, Irene watched him as she tipped off her outer gown with her fingers, breathing tenderly and alluringly, "You have to catch it, or it'd get dirty if it drops on the floor.”

Isaac could not stop himself from smiling.

Did she take the wrong meds today?

"Alright, I'll catch it," he said.

The black silk gown slithered off Irene's body then, baring her fair skin. The straps clinging on her shoulders were so thin they looked like they would snap at any moment, its soft texture hugging her slender but curvaceous figure.

She smiled. “I'm throwing it down now."

She held the gown over the railing, and it would fall once she loosened her fingers!

Isaac raised his hands in return, but Irene ultimately stopped herself, clinging onto it as she exclaimed shyly, “Never mind. I'm too shy for this.”

She returned inside, but just as she was about to straighten her clothes, the door opened.

She turned to find Isaac standing at the doorway, leaning against the door as he stared fixedly at her.

"Don't."

"Does it look good?" Irene asked with an unfocused gaze.

Isaac studied her then.

Be it her face, her lips, her neck, or elsewhere... he was not sparing a single nook or cranny!

"Yes."

She looked up, her lashes twitching. "Really?"

Isaac strode toward her and reached out to take the outer gown off her hands. He then casually threw it on the bed. "I like it. One layer is enough.”

Irene bit her lip and threw herself into his arms. "Did you know?"

Isaac wrapped his arms around her waist in turn, and buried his face in her hair which smelled so sweet. "Know what?"

“That you're despicable." Irene tightened her hold around his neck. "I doubted myself for the first time."

She always believed that she was right and she did not regret her choice.

But when they browbeat her at court today without regard for what was wrong, insisting that she had broken regulations... She felt helpless. She certainly did not want to imagine how far Dennis Turner's family would go with the lawsuit if he really died. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Would she be in prison?

Isaac patted her on the back and comforted her. "Does self-indulgence calm you down?"

Irene gave him a peck on the cheek.

“It does. I've never worn anything this... risque.”

“That it is," Isaac said. "When did you buy it? I've never seen it before.” "Just today," Irene said, looking him in the eye as she asked. "Have you dealt with lan?"

“I left him with James," Isaac said, arching his back to carry him. "We don't have to worry about him anymore."

This time, things did not look good for lan!

And Irene did not ask, but she mused to herself for a moment. “I don't think my lawsuit would be resolved so easily."

Isaac put her in bed and hovered above her, his fingertips dancing over her shoulder as he said, "Let's not talk about our personal issues tonight, alright?"

Irene took the initiative then and undid her straps just as she reared her head, pressing her soft lips against his.

The rest was all history.

Irene had trouble sleeping, but after the exertion, she slept like a log.

It was morning, and the sun slowly rose, its rays creeping through the gaps between the curtains.

In their bedroom, their clothes were thrown messily on the floor.

There was a man's suit, a shirt, a belt, a pair of trousers, and a black strapped sleeping gown.

Irene was nestled in Isaac's arms on their bed, sleeping soundly. Bzzt...

A phone started vibrating loudly, waking Isaac up.

He looked at the table, but the phone was not there—it was in a pocket of one of the garments on the floor.

He massages between his brows, annoyed by the sound.

Irene was awoken too and she asked, muddled, "Whose phone is it?" Isaac got out of bed to start looking and he found it.

It was Irene’s, and the caller was unidentified.

He passed it to her.

She was still sleepy, and she answered without looking.

"Excuse me, is this Irene Spencer?" the voice on the other end asked. “I am," Irene replied.

And then...

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