Evelyn stared at Alexander

her mind struggling to process the absurdity of their conversation. It was like speaking to someone who existed on an entirely different plane of logic—one where normal social conventions didn't apply. The more they talked, the more convinced she became that their brains operated on completely separate wavelengths.

Was she the stupid one here? Or was he just that unhinged? Evelyn seriously contemplated this existential question as Alexander watched her with those unnerving mercury eyes.

"Do you even realize we're having two completely different conversations?" Evelyn attempted to keep her voice level, though her fingers clenched tightly in the plush fabric of his robe. She was fairly certain of her own mental state, but Alexander? The man looked at her like she was a particularly enticing meal he couldn't wait to devour.

A shiver of apprehension skittered down her spine.

Alexander tilted his head, the movement almost predatory. "Aren't we?"

Three sentences. That's all it took for Evelyn to cement several undeniable truths about Alexander Blackwood:

1. The man was relentlessly dominant.

2. He operated on a level of cunning that bordered on frightening.

3. His thought processes were fundamentally twisted.

4. His intelligence was... problematic.

This was Evelyn's definitive assessment after their first proper meeting outside of that disastrous night. Years later, time would only reinforce this initial impression.

"By the way," Alexander said casually, as if discussing the weather, "what's your name?"

Evelyn's mouth fell open.

Had any man in the history of mankind ever slept with a woman, demanded she become his lover, then casually asked for her name afterward? Was this some bizarre rich person etiquette she wasn't aware of? Alexander Blackwood might well be the first documented case of this particular brand of insanity.

"Evelyn Carter," she gritted out between clenched teeth.

Alexander showed no reaction beyond a slight nod. Then, with terrifying swiftness, his arm shot out and yanked her against his chest. Before Evelyn could so much as gasp, she found herself pinned beneath him on the sofa, his mouth crashing down on hers.

The kiss was all-consuming—hot, demanding, and utterly ruthless. Alexander didn't ask permission; he took. His tongue swept through her mouth with proprietary arrogance, mapping every inch as if reclaiming territory. Evelyn's hands flew up to push against his shoulders, but the moment her palms made contact with the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, something primal stirred in her belly.

The robe gaped open, exposing far more skin than she was comfortable with. Yet instead of scrambling to cover herself, Evelyn found her traitorous body responding to his touch. Heat pooled low in her abdomen, and a treacherous pulse began throbbing between her thighs.

That night at the hotel had been a blur of alcohol and sensation. Now, stone-cold sober, every nerve ending seemed hypersensitive to Alexander's touch. His hands—those clever, dangerous hands—skimmed over her ribs, tracing paths of fire across her suddenly too-sensitive skin.

Alexander broke the kiss just enough to study her face. Evelyn knew what he saw—the flush staining her cheeks, the way her pupils had dilated until her hazel eyes looked nearly black. Most damning of all was the slight part of her lips, still damp from his mouth.

"You're thinking too much," he murmured before capturing her mouth again.

This time, his hands grew bolder. One slid between their bodies, fingers dipping lower, lower...

Evelyn's back arched as his fingertips brushed the apex of her thighs. Reality came crashing back. She was here to confront him about violating her privacy, not to—

"Stop!" She grabbed the nearest object—a heavy crystal ashtray—and swung it toward his head.

Alexander caught her wrist with terrifying ease, twisting just enough to make her gasp in pain. The ashtray fell soundlessly onto the thick carpet.

For a long, charged moment, they simply stared at each other—Evelyn panting with mingled fury and fear, Alexander's expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he released her wrist and lowered his mouth to hers again.

But this kiss was different. Gone was the punishing intensity, replaced by something slower, more deliberate. His lips moved over hers with devastating patience, coaxing rather than demanding. When his tongue traced the seam of her mouth, Evelyn found herself opening for him without conscious thought.

"Say my name," he commanded against her lips, his voice a dark caress that sent shivers down her spine.

Evelyn shook her head stubbornly, even as her body betrayed her, pressing closer to his heat.

Alexander's mouth trailed along her jaw to nibble at her earlobe. The sensation was electric—Evelyn hadn't known that particular spot could send jolts of pleasure straight to her core. Her breath hitched audibly.

"Alexander," he prompted, his teeth scraping lightly over the delicate shell of her ear. "Say it."

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, willing her traitorous body not to respond. But when his hand slid between her thighs again, fingers stroking with just the right amount of pressure, a broken sound escaped her throat.

"Alexander," she gasped, hating how breathless she sounded.

The moment the name left her lips, his entire demeanor shifted. The teasing gentleness vanished, replaced by that same terrifying intensity from before. His fingers delved deeper, finding her already embarrassingly wet.

"Again," he demanded, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves with ruthless precision.

Evelyn's hips jerked involuntarily. "Alexander!"

His answering smile was pure predator. "Good girl."

Then his mouth was on hers again, swallowing her whimpers as his fingers worked her with devastating expertise. Evelyn's last coherent thought was that she should be fighting him, should be pushing him away with every ounce of her strength. Instead, her hands fisted in his hair, holding him closer as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

Just as she teetered on the edge, Alexander withdrew his hand completely. Evelyn made a sound of protest that turned into a yelp when he flipped her onto her stomach with shocking ease.

"Alexander—"

The protest died in her throat as his hands gripped her hips, yanking her back against him. There was no mistaking the hard length pressing against her backside. Evelyn's breath came in short, panicked bursts. This was happening. It was really happening.

Then his mouth was at her ear again. "Tell me you want this."

Evelyn shook her head mutely.

Alexander's chuckle sent hot breath cascading over her neck. "Liar." His hands skimmed up her sides, pushing the robe completely off her shoulders. "Your body's already saying yes."

As if to prove his point, one hand slid between her thighs from behind, fingers slipping effortlessly through her slick folds. Evelyn bit her lip to stifle a moan.

"Look at you," Alexander murmured, his voice thick with something that sounded disturbingly like admiration. "So responsive. So perfect."

The words shouldn't have affected her, but they did. Evelyn had never been particularly confident about her body—it was too tall, too curvy in some places, not curvy enough in others. Yet the way Alexander looked at her, touched her... It made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

His fingers continued their maddening dance, pushing her higher and higher until she was trembling with need. Just when she thought she might beg, Alexander withdrew his hand again.

Evelyn nearly sobbed in frustration.

Then she felt it—the blunt head of his erection pressing against her entrance. Her breath caught. There was no pain this time, only a delicious stretch as he pushed inside inch by excruciating inch.

"Alexander," she gasped, her fingers digging into the sofa cushions.

He stilled, buried to the hilt. "Say it again."