Chapter 270

Alexander's mouth curved into a smirk, that dangerous half-smile that always preceded something intense, before he crushed his lips against Evelyn's.

The unexpected ferocity of his kiss sent her thoughts scattering.

Though Alexander had always been passionate, this was different—he'd barely stepped through the door before shoving her onto the mattress, his grip unrelenting.

His palms framed her face as he devoured her, teeth scraping her bottom lip just hard enough to sting.

Evelyn gasped, her fingers twisting in the sheets. "Alexander—you're being too rough!"

But he didn't slow.

His mouth trailed down her throat, each searing kiss leaving her skin tingling. Heat pooled low in her stomach, her entire body thrumming with it.

She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

This wasn't like him. Alexander was always commanding, yes, but never careless. Normally, he watched her every reaction, adjusting his touch to draw out her pleasure like a musician tuning an instrument.

Tonight, though?

Tonight felt like possession.

Alexander's muscles tensed as he positioned himself for the third thrust. Evelyn cradled his face, her voice breaking as she whispered,

"Alexander... darling, please... be careful with me?"

Her plea came out in a breathy whimper, delicate as morning dew on rose petals.

Beneath him, Evelyn trembled, her fingers curling into his hair.

Alexander's jaw clenched, his restraint visibly fraying.

Normally, the sight of her like this would melt his resolve.

But tonight? Tonight, he needed her to feel him—every inch, every second, until she couldn't think straight.

Evelyn bit her lower lip, her brows knitting in confusion.

Did something happen in Sir Ethan's study earlier? Is he taking it out on me?

No. That didn't fit. Alexander was disciplined, methodical—he never blurred lines like this.

So why did it feel like she'd crossed some invisible line?

Her eyes burned, tears threatening to spill.

The moment Alexander noticed the glassy sheen in her gaze, his grip softened.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of her eye, tasting salt.

"Shh," he murmured against her skin.

His voice was rough, but his touch?

Suddenly, unbearably gentle.

The sight of her tears caught him off guard.

Alexander had believed himself to be the wounded party, so why was Evelyn the one crying first?

He had been delayed, arriving later than intended.

The exact words exchanged between Ethan and Evelyn remained a mystery to him.

But seeing Ethan being hauled away by Grace, looking utterly broken, Alexander could piece together enough—Ethan had drowned himself in liquor tonight and lashed out at Evelyn in his drunken stupor.

A bitter wave of possessiveness crashed over Alexander, threatening to pull him under.

He had overheard Grace whispering to Evelyn, urging her to keep tonight’s events from him.

The exclusion stung.

It was as if the three of them shared a secret, and he was the outsider left in the dark.

So the moment he stepped through the door, he had pulled Evelyn into a fierce, claiming kiss.

He needed to remind her—to remind himself—that she was his.

But now, with her tears spilling beneath him, Alexander’s resolve shattered.

His grip loosened.

The anger drained from him, replaced by something far more painful—regret.

"Evelyn," he murmured, voice rough.

Her name was both an apology and a plea.

He couldn’t bear this.

Not her pain.

Not when he was the cause of it.

"I promise to be gentle, my love. No more tears." Alexander's voice was husky as he cradled Evelyn's face, his lips brushing away the damp trails at the corners of her eyes with aching tenderness.

The next two times, he moved with deliberate care, his touch reverent, as if determined to erase every trace of discomfort.

Evelyn's lashes still glistened with lingering moisture, but soon, the tears were forgotten—replaced by shivers of pleasure that coiled deep within her, building until she trembled beneath him.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, nails biting lightly into his skin as she gasped, her body arching. She collapsed against Alexander's chest, her cheeks flushed, her breathing uneven.

Night deepened around Whitmore Manor, the grand estate swallowed by silence.

In the dimly lit attic, the air between them grew thick with heat, their mingled breaths the only sound.

Alexander was unusually unrestrained tonight—perhaps the whiskey from the earlier dinner still hummed in his veins.

After what felt like endless waves of pleasure, Evelyn curled into him, boneless and spent.

Alexander nipped at her earlobe, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Tell me, Evelyn. Is there anything you wish to say?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.