It was late, the darkness thick and heavy, as Francesca drove home.

When the car finally came to a stop, she unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door, only to freeze. Her gaze locked on a silhouette across the street, partially obscured by the shadows of a towering sycamore tree.

Leaning casually against his car, Julian smoked in the night—a solitary figure clad in black, the sharp lines of his jaw punctuated by the rise and fall of his throat, his Adam’s ...