Chapter 863

Evelyn's hands pressed against Nathan's shoulders, but her feeble resistance barely registered against his strength.

She wanted to scream at him, but he seized the moment, closing the distance between them. The intoxicating scent of red wine on his lips was enough to make anyone dizzy.

Furious, she shoved, slapped, and punched him.

None of it mattered.

If anything, her struggles only fueled him. His kiss grew more possessive, more demanding. Nathan wanted her—needed her—to be his alone.

He had planned to be patient. To wait for her to come back to him willingly.

But then he saw her with Preston Sinclair.

That was the breaking point.

How dare she smile at another man?

The raw possessiveness inside him roared to life. He couldn’t wait any longer.

For the first time, he considered his grandfather’s ruthless methods.

If it meant keeping her, was there really any line he wouldn’t cross?

So he sent Dominic to invite her to dinner. This was his last chance to do this the right way.

If she refused, he’d have no choice but to take more drastic measures.

But she came.

Thank God, she came.

At least he could keep his hands relatively clean.

Evelyn was gasping for air. She bit down hard on his tongue, tasting blood before finally releasing him.

Did he finally get the message?

Nathan barely flinched. Instead, he dove back in, stealing her breath all over again.

Still unsatisfied, he lifted her effortlessly, setting her on the cold marble sink so their eyes were level.

His ragged breaths surrounded her. When he leaned in again, Evelyn grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked.

Pain flickered in his dark gaze. He pulled back slightly, letting her control the distance.

Evelyn gritted her teeth. "Nathan Blackwood, snap out of it!"

His brows furrowed. His voice was rough, strained.

"I’m perfectly aware of what I’m doing."

Like hell he was.

A sharp cramp twisted through her abdomen. She could feel the warmth between her thighs.

Her face paled. Her breathing turned shallow.

The first day of her cycle was always brutal—painful enough to require medication.

Nathan traced her swollen lips, his gaze darkening.

His voice was hoarse.

"You liked it too, Evelyn. I can give you everything. Let’s start over."

She wasn’t listening. Between the wine and the pain, her vision blurred. She bit her lip, shivering. "Nathan—"

Cold sweat beaded on her skin.

Finally, he noticed her pallor.

Worry flashed in his eyes as he cupped her face. "What’s wrong?"

She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t bring herself to voice it. Instead, her gaze flickered to his suit jacket.

If she wore that, at least no one would see.

Understanding dawned. He lifted her off the sink, his hand brushing against her backside—confirming his suspicion.

He froze.

Evelyn wanted to scream.

What kind of man didn’t immediately run out to get her what she needed?

No, this bastard had to be different.

"Nathan Blackwood, you absolute—" She sucked in a sharp breath. "You disgusting—"

She barely had the strength left to curse him.

But she’d be damned if she didn’t.

Later, when she recovered, she’d teach him how a real man was supposed to act.