Chapter 54

Alexander stood motionless, his bare torso gleaming under the soft bathroom light. A single towel hung precariously low on his hips, water droplets trailing down the ridges of his abs before vanishing beneath the fabric. The defined V-line leading downward made Evelyn’s breath hitch.

"Uh…" She swallowed hard, forcing her gaze away.

Her cheeks burned. "Could you pass me my pajamas? The white set?"

Instead of answering, Alexander smirked, clearly entertained by her reaction.

He strode toward the bedroom, returning moments later with the requested sleepwear in hand.

The bathroom door remained slightly open. Evelyn reached out, fingers brushing against the fabric, but Alexander didn’t let go. A silent tug-of-war ensued, the material caught between them.

Confused, she peeked through the gap.

Steam curled around them, wrapping the space in a hazy, intimate glow. The air thickened, charged with something unspoken.

His grip loosened just enough for her to pull the pajamas free, but not before his fingers grazed hers—deliberately, teasingly.

Evelyn’s pulse jumped.

The corner of his mouth lifted. "In a hurry?"

She yanked the door shut with more force than necessary.

Behind it, she could’ve sworn she heard him chuckle.

"What's happening?" Evelyn whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

"Mrs. Whitmore, you do enjoy playing games," Alexander murmured, his gaze lingering on the delicate curve of her ankle before he finally withdrew his hand.

Evelyn finally managed to grab the sleepwear. She hastily shut the bathroom door, his teasing words fading from her mind as she unfolded the fabric—only to freeze in shock.

This wasn’t the modest white nightgown she had expected.

Instead, it was one of the scandalous lace pieces Claire had pressured her into trying on.

The design was daring, with strategic cutouts that revealed far more than they concealed.

Heat flooded Evelyn’s cheeks as she stood there, mortified.

This can’t be real.

Frustration surged through her. She dragged her fingers through her damp hair, trying to steady herself. Enough was enough. Wrapping the towel securely around herself, she marched out.

Alexander’s eyes locked onto her the moment she stepped out. His gaze traveled over her bare shoulders, and she caught something dark flickering in his expression—desire?—deepening the flush on her skin.

Heart pounding, Evelyn spun around and bolted back into the room, slamming the door behind her.

My fingers trembled as I pulled on the silk nightgown, the fabric whispering against my skin.

Just as I let out a shaky breath, Alexander appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame. The intensity in his gaze made my pulse skip.

Desperate for distraction, I grabbed my phone—only for Claire’s voice to blare through the speaker, loud and unapologetic.

"Sorry, darling! Couldn’t find those educational videos I promised. But honestly? Just go for it. Alexander’s new to this too—take your time, explore, enjoy!"

Heat flooded my cheeks. I bit my lip hard enough to sting, unable to look up.

The next message played automatically. "And sweetheart? A man built like that? Pure. Natural. Disaster. Have fun!"

Dead silence.

My phone might as well have been a live grenade.

I swiped frantically to stop the playback, but my damp fingers betrayed me. The screen glitched, trapping me in this nightmare.

Claire’s shameless commentary was one thing.

Having Alexander hear every word?

An entirely different kind of torture.

The air between them crackled with tension as Evelyn's pulse skyrocketed.

"I—I was just getting water," she stammered, already pivoting toward the door, desperate to escape Alexander's smoldering presence.

Before she could take another step, his fingers closed around her wrist, spinning her back toward him.

He stood impossibly close, the heat of his bare torso radiating against her. The towel hung precariously low on his hips, every sculpted line of his abdomen demanding her attention.

Her breath hitched.

"Did I hear you correctly, Mrs. Whitmore?" Alexander's voice was a velvet rumble, laced with amusement. "You have a preference for a particular kind of physique?"

The scent of his shower gel—clean, masculine, intoxicating—wrapped around her. His gaze held hers, dark and knowing, and suddenly the room felt ten degrees hotter.

He captured her hands in his, his grip firm and unyielding.

She could feel the raw power in his touch, the strength coiled beneath his skin. A flush crept up her neck, burning her cheeks.

Evelyn tried to tug free, but Alexander didn’t relent.

His lips curved into a slow, devastating smile as he leaned in, his breath brushing her ear. "Well? Does my masculine perfection meet your standards, Mrs. Whitmore?"

Her knees nearly buckled.