Her thoughts blurred, scattered like whispers in the wind, as Marcello finally tore his lips from hers. Both of them panted, breathless, their foreheads almost touching.

His hand slid to the zipper of her dress. She froze, clutching the firm muscle of his bicep, while his fingers drew the line downward, the sound of the zipper slicing the silence between them. Her chest brushed his, hot breath mingling, and when his cool fingers traced back up the length of her spine, she arched helplessly ...