The sun had barely climbed above the horizon when Dante stirred, his hand still resting possessively against Isabella’s back. The night behind them had been a storm of fire and skin, a battle of control and surrender that neither wanted to end, yet the morning brought a fragile calm that made their lingering desire feel almost unbearable. Every inch of her body burned under his gaze, and every breath she drew was a reminder of the heat they had shared and the passion still smoldering between them.

Isabella opened her eyes, meeting Dante’s dark, intense stare. There was no need for words—every glance, every shift of muscle, every twitch of...