Morning light cut across the hotel suite in thin gray blades.
I woke first.
The man slept on his stomach, one heavy arm thrown across the space where I had been, breathing deep and even. Silver threaded the dark hair at his temples. The sharp lines of his face looked softer in sleep, but the broad back and thick shoulders still spoke of a body that could pin a girl down and ruin her without effort. The sheets were twisted low around his hips. A bruise from my mouth marked the side of his neck.
I lay still for three heartbeats, feeling the dull, sweet ache between my legs—the proof that I was no longer the unbroken prize Rocco thought he owned.
Then I moved.
I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, collected my ruined thong and the tiny black dress, and pulled them on with shaking h
