Alisha woke up to a broad chest being presented right in front of her like a good morning gift.
The view was beautiful, almost unfairly so, but equally annoying. His skin, warm under the soft glow of the morning light, rose and fell steadily with every breath. His scent was clean, masculine, infuriatingly distracting, lingered around her.
After Dante had uninvitedly crashed into her room the previous night, she had been forced to share not just her room but her bed with him. The thought still irritated her. She had dreamt of spreading herself across the entire mattress, claiming every corner like she had planned, but instead, she'd spent the night bumping into his solid frame every time she rolled over.
When she had questioned his sudden arrival, he had the audacity to claim it was all to convince more people about their relationship. As though the media dictated her life. As though she should be grateful he was intruding.
