'It seems you entirely forgot to lock the bathroom door, my sweet Princess,' he murmured smoothly, standing tall and magnificent in the dim light.
Startled and deeply confused, Isla immediately stood up, the hot water cascading down her skin.
Dorian did not say a single word.
He simply stood there, his dark, intensely ravenous eyes slowly raking over her dripping form. Isla frowned, completely confused as to why he was staring at her so intensely.
Then, reality violently crashed into her.
She was standing completely, entirely bare before him.
A furious, burning blush instantly exploded across her entire body.
She frantically grabbed a plush white towel from the nearby rack, desperately wrapping it tightly around her trembling curves.
'Do— Do— Dorian! You absolutely should have knocked before coming in!' she stammered breathlessly, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
'I just arrived,' he replied, his deep voice completely thick with a dark, heavy hunger.
'I saw your clothes completely discarded on the bedroom floor.
I knew exactly where you were. So... shall we begin?'
'Begin what?' Isla asked, taking a nervous, trembling step back.
Before she could even blink, Dorian lunged forward.
He forcefully grabbed her delicate waist, yanking her violently flush against his hard, muscular frame.
'War,' he whispered fiercely against her skin.
Without giving her a single fraction of a second to react, Dorian crashed his mouth aggressively against hers.
He instantly took complete, dominating possession of her lips.
In one swift, breathtakingly powerful motion, he grabbed her by the thighs and effortlessly hoisted her entirely off the ground.
Isla frantically tried to push him away, her hands desperately pressing against his broad chest, but his strength was absolutely overwhelming.
He carried her across the room and forcefully sat her down on the cold marble vanity counter, right in front of the massive gilded mirror.
She desperately tried to use her hands to break his suffocating, intoxicating hold. But Dorian was incredibly prepared.
With just one of his large, powerful hands, he swiftly captured both of her delicate wrists, pinning them firmly against her waist.
He absolutely refused to let her go, kissing her with a fierce, desperate, and completely unrelenting passion that completely stole the breath from her lungs.
Then, just as suddenly as the chaotic storm had begun, he stopped.
Dorian abruptly released her trapped wrists.
He pulled his bruised lips away from hers.
He simply stood there, his chest heaving heavily, staring incredibly deeply into her wide, hazy blue eyes with a raw, undeniable fire.
In that perfectly silent, heavily charged second, the last fragile thread of Isla's restraint completely snapped.
With a sudden, violent, and magnificent burst of pure, reckless passion, Isla ripped the plush towel right off her own body and ruthlessly threw it onto the wet floor.
She lunged forward, fiercely capturing Dorian's lips right back into her own mouth.
She aggressively tangled her delicate fingers deep into his dark, messy hair, violently pulling him even closer as she tightly wrapped her bare, trembling thighs securely around his waist, entirely surrendering herself to the magnificent, beautiful war.
"I absolutely need all of him right now, far more than I even need my next breath," Isla thought with a fierce, beautiful desperation as she ruthlessly captured his lower lip in an incredibly deep, breathless kiss, her frantic, trembling fingers moving with a wild, urgent need to aggressively tear open the heavy buttons of his shirt, utterly desperate to strip away every single remaining barrier between them and finally feel the scorching, undeniable heat of his bare chest pressed flawlessly against her own shivering skin.
Isla slowly, breathlessly broke their fierce connection, finally releasing his swollen lips as she gasped for a desperate breath of air.
In immediate response, Dorian swiftly closed the tiny, breathless gap between them, pressing his broad, incredibly warm chest flawlessly against her own shivering skin.
'The deepest, most honest feelings of the heart must travel directly to the heart, must they not?' he murmured huskily, the deep, heavy vibration of his chest rumbling beautifully against her bare form.
With a swift, remarkably impatient movement, he completely discarded the remaining heavy garments she had not yet unbuttoned, instantly leaving himself just as breathtakingly bare as she was in the dimly lit room.
'After all, a true, magnificent war should always be fought on entirely equal ground,' he whispered, his dark eyes burning with a raw, untamed, and deeply possessive fire.
But in that exact, overwhelmingly passionate second, the horrifying, suffocating reality of her impending, tragically forced marriage to Prince Lucier violently crashed back into her fragile mind.
A sudden, paralyzing wave of heavy, crushing guilt washed over her entirely.
She abruptly turned her flushed, tearful face away from him, frantically crossing her trembling arms over her chest in a desperate, panicked attempt to shield her bare, vulnerable body from his all-consuming, ravenous gaze.
Ignoring her frantic, fearful retreat, Dorian stepped even closer. He pressed a searing, devastatingly soft kiss directly onto her bare, trembling shoulder.
His warm lips slowly trailed downward, leaving a line of scorching, passionate marks along the delicate, highly sensitive curve of her spine.
Then, with an effortless, absolutely overwhelming strength, he firmly grabbed her delicate waist, forcefully pulling her back against his solid frame and lifting her fully into his muscular arms.
He began an intoxicating, completely relentless worship of her front.
His hot, demanding mouth left a trail of burning kisses along the pale, sensitive column of her neck, moving agonizingly lower to intensely trace the elegant, fragile ridge of her collarbones.
He pressed deeply reverent, breathtakingly soft kisses to the upper swell of her chest, fiercely trailing his lips down the incredibly smooth, flat plane of her stomach, and gently marking the highly sensitive, trembling skin of her waist, effectively setting every single inch of her exposed flesh entirely on fire.
The overwhelming, highly addictive heat of his touch entirely shattered her fragile, panicked defenses.
Isla helplessly dropped her protective arms, her trembling fingers instantly finding their way deep into the thick, dark strands of his hair, gripping him fiercely as a soft gasp escaped her lips.
She was completely, utterly paralyzed by a profound, agonizingly beautiful confusion.
One half of her deeply conflicted soul desperately wanted to completely surrender her entire being to him right then and there in this beautiful, chaotic storm, while the other terrified half violently screamed for him to stay far, far away because her tragic, cursed fate was already inextricably bound to Lucier.
Her wildly beating heart was a violent, beautifully shattered battlefield desperately torn between royal duty and undeniable desire.
Sensing the deep, agonizing conflict violently tearing her apart from the inside out, Dorian abruptly stopped his passionate assault.
He slowly, gently lowered her back down, sitting her securely on the cold marble vanity right in front of the massive, fogged gilded mirror.
Isla kept her tear-filled eyes tightly shut, entirely unable to bear the heavy, suffocating weight of his intense, knowing gaze.
But instead of continuing his beautiful worship or whispering words of comfort, Dorian silently took a step back, turning his broad back to her as he prepared to walk away.
'Dorian... where exactly are you going?' she whispered blindly, her voice trembling heavily with a sudden, terrifying wave of panic as she finally forced her eyes open.
Dorian paused at the threshold, looking over his shoulder with an incredibly dark, fiercely unreadable expression shadowing his handsome features.
'Perhaps you have not truly accepted me as yours yet, Isla, and perhaps you are simply not ready for this intense, demanding reality,' he said, his deep voice carrying a chilling, heartbreakingly cold calmness.
'Besides, your age is still incredibly tender and naive.
I am a fully grown, twenty-five-year-old man, and you are merely an eighteen-year-old girl. You will absolutely never be able to handle the overwhelming, suffocating weight of my love. You are far too fragile; you are just a child.'
Before the devastating, unbelievably cruel weight of his harsh words could fully crush her entirely shattered heart, he calmly reached over, grabbing a soft, elegant silk nightgown resting on a nearby stool.
With an agonizingly gentle, entirely emotionless touch, he slipped the delicate, heavy fabric directly over her trembling, bare shoulders, completely covering her up and effortlessly hiding the magnificent body he had just been worshipping.
'Go to sleep on time,' he commanded softly, without a single trace of his earlier passion.
Without waiting for a response, he completely turned his back on her and silently walked straight out of the washroom, leaving Isla sitting completely frozen on the cold marble counter, entirely alone in the suffocating, heartbreakingly heavy silence.