There is nothing like the pleasure of waking up in Dante Fontaine's arms.

He's warm and solid around me. It's absolute heaven. I can't remember the last time I was this happy.

Dante must have woken before I did, because even as I'm coming into full consciousness, his fingers are sliding over my hip, up my side, over my breast. He's curled around my back, closer than close, and he smells of sweat and soap and me.

"Good morning," he murmurs in my ear. ...