74. ICY TOUCH

ISLA’S POV. By the time we stepped out of the private room, Remy’s hand was firmly on my waist, his grip possessive yet steady, guiding me through the quiet hallway. The restaurant was eerily empty, no waiters, no staff, not even the faintest murmur of other guests. His hand slid lower, brushing over my ass, and he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. “Watch your step, pretty,” he murmured, his tone low and teasing. A shiver ran down my spine at the feel of his touch. Beneath my dress, I was a mess. My thighs were slick with my arousal, the sticky evidence of what we’d just done rolling down with every step. Each movement sent a jolt through me, making my pussy clench and shudder. God, I could still feel him. The way he’d claimed me, the way he’d left me trembling and undone. My body was weak, my legs barely able to keep up as I stumbled in my heels. Walking felt like a challenge, a punishment, and the reminder of how many times I’d come left my entire body tingling. As we r