Chapter 95

"E-Evelyn—" Evelyn tried to speak, but Alexander silenced her by pressing a finger to her lips.

"Not a word." His voice was low, commanding.

Evelyn could only stare, her breath hitching. From this close, she could see the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple, the way his throat worked as he swallowed. Something about it was inexplicably alluring.

Alexander leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a featherlight kiss.

Fresh from the bath, Evelyn’s skin was still damp, her body warm. Alexander had carried her from the bathroom, and now his clothes clung to her, soaked through from her wet skin.

Though she hadn’t kept up with her boxing training in recent years, Evelyn’s body was still toned—lean muscles, a defined waist, the faintest hint of abs from her sporadic workouts. Yet there was no denying her femininity, the soft curves that contrasted with her strength.

When she opened her eyes, dazed, all she saw was him—his sculpted chest, the taut lines of his abdomen, the way his muscles flexed beneath his skin. She had never imagined what lay beneath those perfectly tailored suits.

This wasn’t just good genetics. This was discipline. Years of effort.

"Alexander..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Call me honey," he murmured against her cheek, his breath warm.

Evelyn’s face burned. She wanted to say it, but the word lodged in her throat, too intimate, too unfamiliar. She bit her lower lip, cheeks flaming.

Alexander chuckled, low and amused. He wouldn’t push her. She needed time.

His kisses trailed down her neck, light as a breeze, teasing, tickling. Evelyn closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation. She had known this moment would come. She had agreed to this marriage, after all.

But when she felt his weight shift, his body pressing closer, her pulse spiked.

Her hands clenched at her sides. Her breath came too fast.

Alexander stilled.

He pulled back just enough to study her face—her tightly shut eyes, the nervous flutter of her lashes, the way her lips pressed together in a thin line.

This wasn’t desire. This was fear.

With a quiet exhale, he eased away.

Evelyn blinked, confused, when nothing more happened. She looked up at him, questioning.

Alexander had already regained his composure. The heat in his gaze had dimmed, though he still hovered close, his hands resting gently on her arms.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, voice soft.

Evelyn hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded.

She wouldn’t lie to him. Not about this.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.