The morning sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks over the spacious bedroom. A faint hum of birdsong drifted in from the open balcony, but it wasn't the light or sound that woke Anastasia—it was the warmth.
Her lashes fluttered open, and her eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness of morning. It took her only a second to realize something was off. Her head wasn't on a pillow.
It was on him.
Nestled against Dante's bare chest, her body was wrapped tightly in his embrace like he was holding her hostage in his sleep. His arm was draped around her waist, fingers loosely resting against her stomach, his breathing steady and warm against her neck.
She froze.
What the hell?
Eyes widening, Anastasia tried to keep her breathing calm as she carefully looked up.
He was still asleep.
