Chapter 991

Preston's kisses started soft and tentative. Just as Evelyn caught her breath, her nerves finally settling—

He claimed her lips again, this time with a hunger that stole her thoughts.

The man was holding back so hard it physically pained him. The moment her sweetness touched his tongue, restraint shattered. He couldn't let go.

Evelyn didn’t push him away. Every fiber of his being burned to consume her, his skin alight with electric thrill.

Yet he didn’t take. Not like the beast clawing beneath his ribs demanded.

Instead, he traced the seam of her lips with agonizing precision, savoring each taste as if she were a rare delicacy. Only then did he deepen the kiss, swallowing her soft gasps like a man starved.

Evelyn’s knees buckled. If not for his iron grip around her waist, she’d have melted to the floor.

Just a kiss.

Her face burned hotter than Preston’s feverish skin.

Pathetic. She hadn’t been this affected in years. Clearly, her hormones had officially mutinied.

But how did this man—always so composed, so polite—kiss like a fallen angel who’d perfected temptation over centuries?

She couldn’t think. Only follow, drowning in him until her lungs screamed.

When he finally pulled back, his darkened gaze glittered with satisfaction.

"Breathe." His voice was rough velvet, scraping down her spine.

Evelyn jerked to awareness, gulping air. The way he watched her—flushed, disheveled—made her pulse stutter.

She scrambled up, but her legs betrayed her. Preston caught her effortlessly, a low chuckle vibrating against her.

"That eager to stay in my arms?"

Men. Always insufferable the second they gained an inch.

Evelyn bit her lip. "I’d have better balance if you weren’t distracting me."

His smirk faded. "Don’t move." The warning in his tone froze her.

Then she felt it.

Oh.

Oh no.

She’d accidentally brushed against—

Evelyn went rigid, cheeks flaming. If the floor opened up and swallowed her whole, it’d be a mercy.

Preston exhaled sharply, the red haze in his eyes clearing. When he released her, his smile was all polished charm again. "Can you stand?"

She bolted upright, putting three feet between them.

He adjusted his shirt sleeves, every inch the untouchable aristocrat. Then, with devastating sincerity:

"My apologies. The fever must have… compromised my judgment."

As if he hadn’t just unraveled her with his mouth.

Evelyn’s brain short-circuited. "It’s—it’s fine! Just a kiss. Like a mosquito bite!"

The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

Preston went very still.

Then he pressed two fingers to his temple, jaw tight. "Did mosquitos always make you moan, Evelyn?"

Her entire body combusted.

"You—!" She jabbed a finger at him, spluttering. "You degenerate!"

His laughter followed her as she fled.