Chapter 317

Evelyn was like a succulent, perfectly ripened peach that fit Dominic's palate. No other woman could ever compare.

Dominic believed he had done everything possible to bring their relationship into the open. Yet frustration gnawed at him—Evelyn still hesitated to move forward with him.

His words twisted Evelyn's heart like a knife.

She knew she mattered to him, but the gnawing sense of inadequacy never left her. It festered in her chest, flaring up unpredictably, shattering any fragile sense of security she managed to build.

Evelyn understood the real culprit was Beatrice, Dominic's mother, who thrived on tearing them apart. The fault wasn't with the man who loved and shielded her.

Guilt pricked her as she met Dominic's patient, deep-set gaze. "I'm sorry. Your mother came here to provoke me, and I lost control..."

"You don't owe me an apology," Dominic said, voice rough. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, then stopped himself when he remembered the heater was on.

Evelyn had noticed—he'd been smoking more lately.

Dominic strode to the floor-to-ceiling window, drawing the curtains shut. His back was rigid, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Evelyn. You've suffered because of me."

He couldn't face her.

This was the first time he'd spoken so rawly, his words heavy with pain and helplessness. But their tangled situation couldn't be undone with mere apologies.

Evelyn sat quietly against the headboard, stunned. To her, Dominic had always been untouchable—favored by fortune, accustomed to admiration. Yet here he was, apologizing.

"I spent years drowning in loneliness," he continued, as if speaking to the night outside. "You might think my life was glamorous, but I was drowning in shame—a bastard child who couldn't escape his past. When the scandal broke, I didn't even want to live anymore."

His fingers trembled slightly.

"You don't know how deep the depression ran. I needed heavy medication just to function... until I went to that small town and met you."

His voice softened. "You were dawn breaking over my darkness. But you were still in school—I couldn't tell you how I felt. So I buried it. Left town with that ache inside me."

A bitter laugh escaped him. "Years later, fate gave me another chance. I found out you needed money, that you'd agreed to be a surrogate. I made sure you were mine. And you gave me two perfect children."

His breath hitched. "I thought I'd lost you forever. That being connected through them would have to be enough. But then you came back into my life."

His voice turned rough. "After everything we've been through, I believed nothing could keep us apart. But every time I try to move forward, you pull away."

Silence stretched between them.

Evelyn rose, her bare feet silent on the floor. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek to his back. "I'm sorry, Dominic. No more running."

His body tensed. Then he turned, pulling her into his arms. "Foolish girl."

Her smile, bright and unguarded, chased the shadows from his eyes.

In one swift motion, he lifted her and laid her on the bed. His gaze burned as it traced her face. "If you're apologizing, make it count. Show me you mean it tonight."

His hands claimed her waist, pinning her beneath him. The heat of his body seared her skin, his scent intoxicating.

Desire darkened his eyes, making her shiver.

She closed her eyes, surrendering as he stripped away every barrier between them. His warmth pressed against her, branding her.

Her fingers brushed against him—hard, unyielding—and she flinched.

Dominic chuckled, capturing her wrist. "No escaping."

Even after all their nights together, that predatory gleam in his gaze still unnerved her. She swallowed. "Be... gentle."

His laugh was rough. "Just relax."

Then he took her.

Evelyn gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. "Ah—Dominic!"

Sweat beaded on his brow as he fought for control. His teeth grazed her ear. "You've given me two children. You'd think by now you'd be used to me." His voice was pure sin.

Evelyn flushed.

Every thrust threatened to shatter her, only to piece her back together. By the time dawn approached, she was too spent to even whimper.