POV: EVE
Eve woke to sunlight streaming through the penthouse windows and Dimitri's arm draped possessively across her waist.
She smiled, turned in his embrace to find him already awake, watching her with those silver-gray eyes that still made her breath catch.
"Morning," she murmured.
"Morning, cara mia." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Sleep well?"
"Like the dead. You wore me out last night."
"Good." His hand slid down her spine. "That was the plan."
They'd made love three times, once against the bathroom mirror, once in bed slow and sweet, once more in the early hours when Eve had woken him with her mouth on him.
Ten weeks into their arrangement, and the heat between them showed no signs of cooling.
If anything, it burned hotter.
"What time is it?" Eve asked, stretching.
"Almost nine. We have that fitting at eleven."
Right. The gala fitting.
