The first thing Elena felt was warmth.

Not from the heavy quilt covering her bare skin, but the steady heat of a body pressed against her back. She did not move for a heartbeat. Her lashes fluttered open, catching fragments of soft light spilling through half-drawn curtains. The room was unfamiliar, sleek lines, dark wood, the faint scent of cedar and expensive cologne.

Dante's bed.

Memory crashed over her. the wine, the laughter, the kiss that turned to fire. How she had let go of every ...