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... anding soft on my face. I didn’t move for a while.
Just lay there, staring at nothing.
Caught between sleep and wakefulness, the scent of him still clinging to my skin—dark, expensive, familiar. Domenico’s arm was heavy across my waist, his breath deep and unhurried against the back of my neck. It wasn’t supposed to feel peaceful, not here, not in his bed. But somehow, it did.
The sheets were soft, warm with his body heat. Every inch of the room whispered him, the order, ...
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