The next morning, Camille woke up tangled in expensive sheets and Dante Moretti's arms.
Again.
At this point, she was beginning to suspect the man slept like a possessive octopus.
Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows while the city stretched endlessly below them.
Quiet. Warm. Peaceful.
Dante was still asleep beside her for once.
Which almost never happened.
Camille turned slightly on the pillow just to look at him.
Dangerous mistake.
Morning Dante was unfairly attractive.
Dark hair messy. Sharp jaw relaxed from sleep. One arm still wrapped firmly around her waist like even unconsciousness didn't stop him from keeping her close.
Camille smiled softly to herself.
Then Dante's voice came quietly without opening his eyes.
"You're staring again."
She gasped.
"You were awake?"
"One eye open."
"That's terrifying."
Now he opened his eyes slowly, looking directly at her with sleepy amusement.
"You touched my face six times."
Camille looked deeply offended.
