Lena woke slowly, drifting up from sleep wrapped in warmth.
For a few hazy seconds, she didn’t remember where she was—only that the bed felt too big, the sheets impossibly soft, the air scented faintly of something masculine and familiar.
Then memory rushed back all at once.
Last night.
His hands. His voice. The way he’d looked at her like she was something fragile and fierce all at once. The way he’d taken his time, as if the world outside the bedroom had ceased to exist. Nothing rushed. Nothing taken. Only given.
Heat flooded her cheeks.
She never would have imagined this version of Zayn.
On the island he had been unhinged—sharp edges, barely restrained intensity, desire mixed with danger. But last night… last night he had been patient. Gentle. Almost reverent.
As if loving her m
