The Billionaire's Pretend Wife (Isabella)

Chapter 70 Seventy

Isabelle was stunned to hear Jacob’s confession. She couldn’t understand why he became jealous so

easily.

She had no interest in Logan Larson–not that it would matter if she did. She had never met him, and as

she had pointed out, she was just an ordinary worker while he was the CEO of the Larson Group.

His only interest in her was because she was his employee. And, she was only saying nice things

about him because he was a good boss. She hadn’t thought it would make Jacob feel bad.

She straightened from her position on the counter and gave him an apologetic smile. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t

mean to make you feel like that.”

While she hadn’t anticipated his jealousy, it sure made her feel all sorts of giddy. She knew it shouldn’t

matter to her whether Jacob was jealous of her talking excitedly of another man. He was her pretend

husband. She shouldn’t get giddy because he got jealous. But knowing that fact didn’t keep her from

feeling warm all over.

When he stood from his stool and came around the counter to her, her heart hammered behind her

ribs. He came straight to her, and before she could take a step back, he reached out and wrapped an

arm around her waist.

She gasped softly as he pulled her to him and looked down at her, his dark eyes serious. “Between me

and Logan, who has a better figure?”

Her eyes widened as she stared at him. What?

As Isabelle continued giving him a perplexed look, Jacob felt embarrassment taking root. Only after

asking that question did he realise how childish it was. But he ignored the embarrassment. He just

wanted Isabelle to praise him to his face. What was a little embarrassment?

Isabelle’s brow creased a little as she pondered. He couldn’t believe how hard his heart was beating as NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

he awaited her answer. It was as if his entire happiness depended on whether she thought he was

more attractive than the ‘other’ man.

He must be going crazy.

“I think you have similar shapes,” she answered finally.

That was not the answer he was looking for.

She sighed. “I didn’t really pay attention to his shape. I told you, I didn’t see him clearly.”

She tried to pull away from his hold, but he grabbed her hand and shoved it under his shirt. Isabelle

gave him a shocked look, and tried to pull her hand back instantly, but he held it against his skin firmly.

“If you touch me, you can tell who has a better body,” he told her.

Isabelle opened her mouth to say something, but then shut it wordlessly. She was struck speechless by

his boldness. Was he serious? As he continued looking down at her with a serious expression, she

realised that yes, he was serious.

She bit down on her lip as the feel of his skin beneath her fingers registered. She could feel his taut

muscles, and…heavens, why was his skin so hot? She tried to jerk her hand back again, but he held

on firmly.

Wanting him to release her before she melted entirely against him, she said, “You have a better figure.”

Jacob let go of her hand, but instead of releasing her completely as she had expected, he turned her

around, pressing her back into the kitchen counter. She looked up at him in confusion, only to see that

he was leaning towards her.

Her breathing quickened as he got closer, his intention obvious. His eyes latched onto hers, and the

desire she saw in them knocked the breath out of her lungs. Oh no. She wasn’t going to be able to get

away. And not because he wouldn’t let her, but because her body was already anticipating his actions.

His eyes moved from her eyes to her lips. Her heart was beating so crazily, it felt like it would break out

of her chest any moment. She shut her eyes as her hands clutched onto the counter behind her.

The first touch of his lips on hers was soft, barely there. But it was enough to make her entire body

tremble and her knees go weak. God, what was this man doing to her?

His second touch was firmer, prying her lips apart and kissing her hard. She let him, and not just that,

she also kissed him back.

She was beyond thinking twice as her hands let go of their death grip on the counter and lifted to his

shoulders, holding on tight.

His lips stroked hers insistently, breaking all of her defences–if she had any anymore–and making her

putty in his hands. His strong arms wrapped around her soft body, crushing her to him. Her breasts

crushed to his hard chest, and a thought flitted through her mind that she wanted to be like this, with

nothing between them.

A moan left her lips when he pulled back and nipped her bottom lip gently with his teeth, before moving

in again for another kiss. His hands travelled downwards, skimming over her sides on their way to her

hips. When they got to their destination, he gripped her tightly and lifted her body.

Their lips separated briefly as he set her to sit on the counter, and then urged her legs to wrap around

his body.

And then he was back to kissing her senseless. She ignored the part of her brain that tried telling her

that they had gone too far. That if she didn’t stop this, it would end in something she couldn’t control.

That part of her brain became non-existent when his large hands brushed against the side of her

breasts. Another moan escaped her lips as one of his hands crept between their bodies and squeezed

her breast.

He stopped their kiss then, and she opened her eyes to find him watching her with eyes wild with lust.

“I want to touch you,” he told her, the tip of his tongue appearing briefly between his lips. “Will you let

me?”

His thumb rested on the edge of the imprint her hard nipple had managed to make through her shirt

and apron. As if it was waiting for her permission to give her the pleasure she knew awaited.

She swallowed and nodded. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted to be close to him. She wanted

him.

He bent his head until his forehead rested against hers. “Are you sure? You drive me crazy, Bella. I

want to make you feel good. Do you want that?”

She nodded again. Where had all the oxygen in the world disappeared to?

“Tell me,” he requested. “Tell me you want me.”

Heat spread through her entire body as she flushed. Why did telling him seem harder than kissing him

back, touching him back?

The microwave oven beeped then, alerting her that her cookies were done. Breath rushed back into

her lungs as the interruption drew her from the trance he had swept her into. “I…the cookies…”

“Tell me first,” he insisted, grasping her chin between a thumb and forefinger and raising her face to

him.

She gazed into his eyes, her stomach a tumble of nerves. “Yes. I…I want you.”

Admitting it out loud worked like a spell on her body. Her core clenched, and so did her thighs around

his hips. If she didn’t burst into flames from how hard she was blushing, she was positive it would never

happen.

He stroked the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip. “And you won’t run away this time?”

She swallowed. “No.”

She was tired of running away.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, leaning in again to kiss her lips gently. “Get your cookies quickly. We have

things to do, woman.”

Her stomach clenched at the promise in his words. What exactly did he intend to do to her?