VICTORIA BELLA WASHINGTON

The next morning, I woke up with an arm draped over my belly. Turning carefully, I found myself face-to-face with Vincenzo, his features softened in sleep. The morning light accentuated his chiseled jawline and highlighted the gentle curve of his pink lips. He looked so breathtaking that I could lie there admiring him all day—and I had no doubt he'd enjoy that too.

"Take a picture; it'll last longer," he murmured, eyes still closed. How on earth did he know I ...