Morning came too fast.

Rebecca stirred first, pulled from sleep by the unfamiliar weight draped securely around her waist. For a moment she lay still, suspended between dream and memory.

Then awareness settled.

Vincenzo.

His arm rested heavily across her stomach, his breathing slow and even against her hair. In sleep, his face had softened; the sharp lines of pride and tension she knew so well were gone. He looked younger and vulnerable.

Her pulse quickened.

Last night returned in fragments — the door opening, the urgency of her kiss, the way silence had said everything words could not.

She shifted slightly, intending to ease out of his hold.

His...