The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 173: I hope you know this is strictly professional

Chapter 173: Chapter 173: I hope you know this is strictly professional

Her eyes flew open, a stunned silence locking her in place.

Did he just—

Of course he did.

Isabella blinked up at him, trying not to let her fluster show as her brain fought to catch up. Her lips still tingled. Her breath still trembled.

And that was what he chose to whisper?

Her mouth twisted slowly into a grin, eyes narrowing with mock offense. "Are you serious right now?" she asked, voice half-winded, half amused. "You’re standing there, one breath away from kissing me, and that’s what you come up with? Soap?"

Kian didn’t flinch. Just looked at her calmly with that same maddening intensity. Not a flicker of apology in his eyes.

She exhaled in disbelief and gave a low, breathy laugh. "You... you’re ridiculous." Then, softer, "And very lucky you’re pretty."

He tilted his head slightly, waiting.

Fine.

Isabella tossed her wet hair back over her shoulder and stepped to the side, still facing him, her fingers brushing the rim of the small clay bowl balanced neatly on a flat rock beside the spring. The mixture inside shimmered faintly under the moonlight—thick and smooth with a floral tint. She dipped one finger into it, then glanced back at him with a smirk.

"It’s made from Ash Resin gel and Crushed Glowroot ," she explained casually, swirling the mixture around with her fingertip. "It softens skin, lifts dirt and dead skin, and leaves you smelling like a garden instead of a beast cave."

Kian raised his brow at her comment. She never failed to amuse him with that mouth of hers.

She lifted her hand, droplets of the silky mixture trailing down her wrist.

"And it foams," she added smugly. "Which is very fancy."

Kian said nothing. Just watched her fingers. Her skin. The curve of her wrist.

She turned her body slightly toward him again, smile growing slow and sly. "I could help you wash," she offered, voice honeyed, eyes not quite meeting his. "If you’d like."

Her gaze flicked down.

To the bowl.

Then slowly, deliberately—

—to his hide skirt.

Her smile didn’t waver.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t smirk, didn’t tease. Just gave a single, quiet nod. As if this was the most ordinary request in the world.

Isabella’s heart gave a traitorous thump.

Her gaze lingered—just a second too long—on the way the damp fabric clung to him. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound, then cleared her throat and turned back toward the soap bowl, pretending to study the mixture like it was some complex formula.

"Right," she said under her breath. "Washing. Helpful. Very helpful."

Her fingers curled around the bowl. "Let’s start with your arms, maybe."

Because—stars help her—if she started anywhere else, she might forget what soap was.

Kian’s voice cut through the steam, low and calm. "Should I take off the skirt?"

Isabella froze.

Just for a second.

The question hung in the air like thunder right before it cracked. Her flirty smirk faltered into a blink—then two—then a full-body pause as her brain scrambled.

The bowl was in her hand. The soap was ready. Her smirk was armed and polished to perfection.

Until it wasn’t.

"Oh." That was all Isabella managed—just a little breath of surprise that wasn’t nearly enough to cover the chaos happening in her head.

Just a second. A hiccup in time.

Then her body stiffened, and her brain tried to reboot through a slow double blink. Her smirk cracked, mouth slightly parted.

"You should what now?" Her voice pitched up. Just a touch. Not enough to admit weakness, but enough for betrayal.

Kian stood there, completely unbothered, the steam from the spring swirling lazily around him like it was part of his aura. Calm. Regal. Maddening.

"Didn’t you say the proper way was to wash everything?" His tone—so innocent—was practically sinful. "The skirt will get in the way."

There was a beat. No steam. No breath. Just her heartbeat ticking like a drum in her ears.

Isabella forced a blink. "Okay," she said. Then again, louder: "Okay. Yeah. Sure." She nodded quickly, once, twice, too many times. "You’re totally right. That’s—yep. Very logical. Completely."

Her fingers gripped the clay bowl so tightly her knuckles turned white.

She absolutely did not look at him.

But then she heard the sound. The soft rustle. The pull of leather cords.

She felt the sound.

Her eyes widened a full inch. "Kian, I didn’t mean right—!"

Too late.

Her body moved before her brain did—she whirled around, almost sloshing the soap clean out of the bowl. "Stars above! Warn a girl before you start—"

Behind her, a low chuckle slipped through the steam.

That laugh.

Oh, that laugh.

It rolled through her like a warm breeze and left tingles behind in places she didn’t want to talk about. Her toes curled in the water. Her stomach did something strange and traitorous.

Isabella closed her eyes. One breath. Two.

She’d survived worse. Runway malfunctions. Backstage sabotage. Tabloid scandals with headlines so bold they practically screamed.

This?

This was just a dangerously attractive man... half bare... who laughed like sin and had no idea what he was doing to her spine.

She turned back around slowly, peeking over her shoulder like she might catch a wild beast mid-prowl.

Her gaze landed on his back first—broad and steady, muscles shifting subtly with each breath. And then lower—

Nope.

She looked up. Immediately. High. To the sky. To the moon. To anywhere that wasn’t his waistline.

She cleared her throat, her voice suddenly all business. "I hope you know this is strictly professional," she mumbled, dipping her fingers into the soap again.

She dared a glance.

And he leaned in.

He didn’t even touch her, but she felt it.

His breath brushed the edge of her ear like a whisper. Hot. Dangerous.

"Of course," he murmured.

Her soul left her body.

The bowl? Gone. Just slipped right out of her fingers and hit the rocks with a quiet, pitiful thud.

Isabella stared down at it, lips parted, stunned into silence.

Steam wafted between them.

"I meant to do that," she said flatly.