The Runaway Groom
Chapter 886

Perhaps it was ticklish or something else, but Irene was moving around a lot.

She then wrapped her arms around Isaac's neck and pressed her face against his, purring tenderly, “It's hot... I feel so hot..."

Her cheeks were pinkish and droplets covered her devilish figure.

And the way she wiggled in his arms was utterly alluring, just like a seductive succubus!

Isaac lowered his eyes through the steam from the hot bath, but restrained himself.

Gulping, he rasped, "Don't move. It will be over soon."

“Urgh..." She kept struggling nonetheless. "It's so stuffy."

It was certainly the case in this bathroom!

"That's enough," he growled, forced to firmly hold onto her flailing hands as he washed her hair, soaking it thoroughly with bubbles. When he was done, he carried her out of the bathtub, and they both stood under the shower sprinklers to wash off the suds.

Through it all, Irene's body was glued to his.

After everything was done, he pulled out a bathrobe and draped it carelessly over himself before trying to put one on Irene as well. Naturally, she was being uncooperative again—it was hot since she just bathed, and she did not want to put on anything.

“It's too warm," she complained.

Isaac was almost sweating all over from having to cater to her whims, but he had to compromise again nonetheless.

He wrapped her in a bathrobe like a cocoon without making her wear it and carried her out of the bathroom.

It was safe to go out into the living room as well—Mrs. Watson was not around, while Sheryl was busy with the baby.

He carried Irene upstairs to their bedroom and put her on the bed.

Still feeling too hot, Irene tugged on the bathrobe, loosening it.

Isaac could not help sighing even as he dried her hair.

"Don't go drinking ever again,” he said—the work alone was enough to Kill him.

After cleaning up, he fell asleep with her in his arms.

Perhaps sleeping was especially comfortable after a bath, Irene slept like a log and only woke up at 10 AM.

However, she started rubbing her temples soon enough as her head felt heavy and hurt.

"Thirsty," she rasped with a parched throat.

Isaac poured her a glass of water, while she narrowed her eyes, her head slowly clearing as she took the glass. "What time is it?"

"Past ten."

"That's late," she said, getting to her feet and finishing her drink, placing the glass on the table nearby.

She tugged on her bathrobe, and then saw that she was naked underneath.

"You bathed me?" she asked.

"Yeah," Isaac replied softly. "Shouldn't everything be washed and dumped after you vomited all over yourself?"

Irene was speechless. Was she some sort of object to be disposed of after getting dirty?

“You're not working?" she then asked.

"I was waiting for you," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching her.

"For me?" Irene scratched her head in slight confusion. "What for?" “You were apologizing to me last night. Did you do something wrong?" Irene frowned. "I did?"

Isaac nodded assuredly, but Irene could not remember a thing.

In that case, that meant she never said anything.

"I forgot. Must be some drunken mumble,” she said, getting up to leave the bed.

Isaac, however, caught her waist. "You haven't told me why you're hurting."

“I can't explain how much it hurts to be drunk,” Irene said, and leaned in to breathe warm puffs of air into his hair, purring coquettishly, "Since when did you get so paranoid, Isaac? Are you really that concerned about drunken gibberish?"

Isaac held her gaze for seconds, his eyes piercing within.

Unable to find evidence that she was lying, he turned away, got up, and growled, "No drinking from now on. Now go downstairs—breakfast is ready."

"Okay," she replied.

But as Isaac headed downstairs, closing the door behind himself, Irene's tense nerves finally eased and she heaved a long sigh of relief. She smacked herself on the forehead as well—she really should not go drinking.

Getting out of bed, she got dressed and headed downstairs... but Isaac was still there.

“Don't you have to work?" she asked.

“I'm waiting for you," he replied.

Irene was speechless—did he ever mention that they were going to work together? Why would she go with him to Twinrise?

Heading downstairs just then, she said, “I'm not going out. I'm staying home with Tommy."

Isaac turned and leveled her a cool look. "Are you sure about that?" Irene was left speechless again.

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