The morning light poured through the ornate windows of the Laurent estate like soft golden silk, filtering gently into Anastasia's room. The sheer curtains fluttered slightly with the breeze, casting dancing shadows on the marble floor. The room was cloaked in a tranquil hush, disturbed only by the occasional chirping of birds outside and the subtle rhythm of breath shared between two sleeping bodies.
Anastasia stirred.
A warm sensation pressed against her stomach, grounding her before her eyes had even fluttered open. Her lashes twitched, her heart already skipping as a rush of heat climbed her cheeks. And then it all came back in a single, wild heartbeat—Dante. Last night. His mouth, his hands, the way he had touched her like she was something sacred and sinful at the same time. Her face flushed even harder.
