The morning sun filtered through the sheer linen curtains, casting a warm, honey-toned light across the master bedroom.
Elizabeth shifted slowly beneath the heavy duvet, her eyelids fluttering open against the gentle morning glare. The very first thing she felt was an enveloping, steady warmth. Anton's long arms were wrapped securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, while his chin rested comfortably against the crown of her head. He smelled faintly of expensive sandalwood and the crisp, clean scent of the sheets.
She lay still for a long moment, listening to the rhythmic, deep rise and fall of his chest. Memory after memory of the previous night flooded back into her consciousness in vivid, unvarnished detail—the sweet, dizzying warmth of the champagne, the desperate heat of their kisses, the gentle reverence in his touch, and the utter, absolute surrender of her body and soul to the man holding her right now.
