Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 132: Exorcism

I didn’t look back as I climbed the stairs again—my stride harder, sharper this time.

I didn’t slow when I reached the bedroom door.

My chest tightened.

The bed was empty.

The blanket was folded. Her ridiculous ghost dress was gone.

No.

A flicker of irrational panic gripped me, fast and hot—before the bathroom door opened.

And she stepped out.

Wrapped in one of my towels, steam curling around her like a veil. Water glistened on her collarbone, her hair damp and curling at the edges.

Everything else vanished.

She froze when she saw me. Eyes wide, caught mid-step like I’d walked in on her committing a sin — or about to.

"Oh," she said, breath catching just slightly. "You’re back."

Back.

As if I hadn’t been aching to get here the entire time. As if I hadn’t nearly torn the house apart getting rid of Clara so I could return to this exact moment.

I didn’t answer. Not right away. Just closed the door behind me, slow and deliberate. The click echoed like a lock being thrown.

She looked down at herself, then lifted the bundle of clothes. "Someone dropped this off. I figured I should look a little more... alive before you got back."

Alive.

She had no idea what she looked like. Not just alive.

Haunting.

"You call that looking alive?" I said, voice low and rougher than intended.

She blinked.

I crossed the space between us, hand reaching out before I could stop it. The towel slipped from her fingers like it had been waiting for me. My gaze followed its path to the floor, then climbed slowly back up her body.

Beautiful. Unwrapped. Mine.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched me with those eyes that had been crawling under my skin since the moment we met.

"You asked if everything was okay," I murmured, stepping in until there was no space left to lie about what I wanted. "It will be."

My hand slid up, brushed beneath her jaw — light, reverent, maddening.

"Right after I exorcise you."

Her breath hitched. "Exorcise?"

I smiled — just a fraction. "You came in like a ghost. Remember?"

"And now?"

"Now you’re haunting me on purpose."

That landed. I saw it ripple through her — a visible shiver, a widening of her eyes. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something clever, maybe call me out.

Instead, she said my name. Soft.

"Adrien..."

"Hmm?"

"You never told me who that was. At the door."

My jaw tightened, but I didn’t look away. I let the silence stretch for a beat, then answered with the only truth I had left in me.

"Later," I said. "I’ll explain everything."

Right now, there were more urgent things. Like the way her skin was still damp. The way she was standing there in nothing but that look — curious, wrecked, ready.

She’d come in like a ghost.

But I was about to make her scream like something very, very alive.

ISABELLA’S POV

The moment the bedroom door clicked shut, I just lay there for a beat. My skin still tingled from his touch, my heart steady but heavy with the weight of... whatever that had been. That tension. That heat.

Then came a knock.

I scrambled up, tugging the blanket higher.

It wasn’t Adrien.

A woman—house staff, maybe?—stood at the door with a calm smile and a neatly folded bundle in her hands.

"From Mr. Walton," she said. "Thomas asked me to bring it up."

"Thank you," I managed, accepting the clothes with both hands.

As soon as the door closed, I stared at the bundle for a second, then smiled a little. Of course Adrien would remember. My dress was... not really in wearable condition anymore.

The fabric was soft. Simple. Comfortable. Something meant to be worn inside his home.

I turned toward the en suite. A quick shower wouldn’t hurt. I wasn’t trying to impress him—but I also didn’t want to look like a complete ghost bride when he came back.

The water was warm. Soothing. It relaxed muscles I didn’t even realize were tense. I lost track of time, leaning into the quiet, the calm.

Maybe a little too long.

When I stepped out, towel wrapped around me, clean clothes in hand, I froze.

Adrien was back.

Standing in the doorway like he owned gravity. His sleeves were still rolled, shirt half unbuttoned, eyes locked on me like I’d stepped straight out of a dream he had no intention of waking up from.

"Oh," I said, caught mid-step. "You’re back."

His gaze dragged over me once, slow and unmistakable. He didn’t say anything at first. Just shut the door behind him with quiet finality.

"You were gone longer than I thought," I said, trying to sound casual. "Everything okay?"

He nodded. But there was something feral in the set of his jaw. His eyes never left me.

I lifted the bundle of clothes slightly. "Someone dropped this off. Figured I should look a little more... alive before you got back."

His voice was low. "You call that looking alive?"

I blinked.

He stepped forward. One hand reached out, dragging the towel loose with ridiculous ease. His gaze darkened.

"You asked if everything was okay," he murmured, voice like thunder wrapped in silk. "It will be. Right after I exorcise you."

My breath hitched. "Exorcise?"

His mouth curved, slow and sharp. "You came in like a ghost, remember?"

"And now?"

His eyes burned. "Now you’re haunting me on purpose."

His words sent a ripple down my spine.

I didn’t move when he stepped closer, didn’t breathe when his hand came up to touch my face. Just the faintest brush of his fingers beneath my jaw, like he was memorizing the line of it.

I swallowed. "Adrien..."

"Hmm?"

"You never told me who that was." I searched his eyes.

He went still for a beat, then let out a slow breath through his nose. "Later," he said. "I’ll explain everything."

"But—"

"Later," he repeated, firmer this time. "Right now, I need to do something else."

My pulse fluttered.

"And what’s that?"

His lips curved into something dark and sinful. "Right now, I need to make you scream."

Before I could respond, he closed the distance between us, his hands finding my waist and pulling me against him. His touch was electric, igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume me. I gasped as his lips found mine.

My arms instinctively going around his shoulders as he backed me into the wall—careful, still, but no less intense. His hands still on my waist, anchoring me like he was afraid I’d vanish.

"You’re warm," he murmured against my skin, dragging kisses down my neck, "and soft and soaked in that scent that’s going to ruin my self-control completely."

"You said something about exorcising me..." I whispered, fingers threading through his hair.

"Mm," he breathed, mouth trailing fire along my collarbone. "Changed my mind. I think I’ll keep you."

He pulled back just enough to look at me—his eyes looked like lava.

"You drive me fucking insane."

"Good," I whispered. "Means it’s mutual."

His hands were under me before I could blink, lifting me off the ground like I weighed nothing.

As he lifted me, my legs instinctively wrapped around his shoulders. The position was intimate, to say the least, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, teasing me with what was to come. I gasped, back hitting the wall, one arm shooting out instinctively to brace, but he had me.

The moment his face was between my thighs, a jolt of electricity tore through me.

His hands held me firmly — one under my thigh, the other anchoring my hip — supporting me like I was weightless, like I belonged there.

"Adrien—" I gasped

"Shh." His voice was low, coaxing. "I told you. I need to make you scream."

The first touch of his tongue was like a spark to dry tinder. I gasped, my body tensing as he began to explore me with a slow, deliberate pace. The sensation was intense, heightened by the position and the fact that he was standing, holding me with ease.

Adrien moved like a man savoring every second, like he’d been starving and just found the one thing in the world that could satisfy him. His tongue dragged slow and deep, his grip tightening every time I shuddered in his hold.

"God," I gasped, my hands scrambling for something—anything—to hold onto. My fingers found his hair, curling there, anchoring me to him. "Adrien—"

He groaned — deep, raw — like the sound of my voice only made him hungrier.

"Please," I whispered, legs trembling against his shoulders.

That earned a growl. His mouth sealed over me again — relentless now, unyielding.

The world fractured.

Shattered.

My vision blurred and I shattered around him, my voice breaking open into a scream I didn’t recognize as my own.

And then, it happened. A wave of pleasure crashed over me, starting deep within and radiating outward. I cried out, the sound torn from my lips as my body arched into his touch. He held me tight, his grip unyielding as he rode out my climax with me, his tongue continuing to dance across my skin until the very last tremor had faded.

As I came back to myself, I realized he was slowly lowering me to the ground, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

The moment my feet touched the floor, he caught my lips in a kiss, deep and claimming. I could taste myself on his lips.

When he finally pulled back, I was breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. "You—"

"Exorcised," he said, mouth glinting with a crooked, satisfied smile. His voice was rough. "I think that counts as holy water."

I tried to speak.

Failed.

And then we both started to laugh—quiet, breathless, the kind of laughter that only came when something felt too good to be real.

He leaned in, forehead resting against mine. "I’m just getting started."

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