Chapter 465

The last rays of twilight had faded by the time they finished.

At Whitmore Manor, meals were served precisely on schedule. Missing dinner meant going hungry—no exceptions.

Evelyn lay breathless, her body humming with exhaustion. Alexander's stamina had become almost overwhelming lately.

Men in their twenties were insatiable, but this? This bordered on ridiculous.

Alexander's palm slid over her abdomen, his touch feather-light. "How have you been feeling?" His voice was low, thoughtful. "Your bump isn't showing much yet."

"Maybe it needs more time," she murmured.

The doctor's words echoed in her mind—the baby measured small. Despite nutrient-rich meals and careful rest, progress seemed sluggish.

Prison had stolen more than years from her. It had stolen her body's ability to heal properly.

"I'll bring you dinner," Alexander said, pressing a kiss to her temple before rising.

The sheets rustled as he dressed. Evelyn watched the play of moonlight across his shoulders, her fingers twitching with the memory of touching him.

Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

Alexander chuckled. "That settles it. I'm definitely raiding the kitchen now."

Evelyn buried her face in the pillows, equal parts mortified and amused. Pregnancy hunger was no joke.

As his footsteps faded down the hallway, she traced absent circles on her belly. This child would be loved. Would be safe.

No matter what.

Evelyn's cheeks burned crimson. She quickly slipped into her silk pajamas and trailed Alexander to the kitchen.

The staff had already left for the night. Alexander began preparing spaghetti for them both.

As she approached, his gaze lingered on the delicate curve of her exposed neck.

"Spaghetti alone won't give you enough nutrients," Evelyn murmured, turning toward the refrigerator. "With your schedule, you need more protein." She reached for the eggs, but Alexander's arms encircled her from behind.

His lips brushed against her skin. "Why did you choose this?" he murmured, his voice rough.

The pajama top dipped low, revealing the elegant slope of her shoulders and collarbones.

His warm breath tickled the shell of her ear, sending her pulse racing.

Alexander's voice dropped lower. "Suddenly, I'm not hungry for spaghetti anymore."

"Alexander," she whispered urgently, "your father is here." The kitchen was hardly private—anyone could walk in. The thought of being caught made her want to vanish on the spot.

But he ignored her protest, pressing another kiss just below her jaw.

"We're married," he murmured. "Since when is a kiss a crime?"

Alexander pinned Evelyn against the wall, his arm forming an unbreakable cage around her. His other hand slid possessively around her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the kitchen counter.

His touch was electric, tracing slow, deliberate paths along her skin.

Evelyn’s cheeks burned.

He had been insatiable ever since she moved into Whitmore Manor.

Just as their passion deepened, the kitchen door swung open.

Ethan Caldwell stood frozen in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

His gaze flickered over Evelyn’s flushed face, the telltale marks on her neck, the way Alexander’s hands still lingered on her waist.

If he hadn’t walked in, there was no doubt where this would have led.

Ethan’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady.

"Uncle Alexander. There are children in the house." His tone was dry. "I know you two can’t keep your hands off each other, but this is the kitchen."

Instead of retreating, he deliberately left the door wide open.

His eyes landed on the pot of boiling water. "Spaghetti?" He exhaled sharply. "I haven’t eaten. Mind if I join?"