Bella stirred in her sleep, her brows softly furrowing as she tried to adjust. Something didn't feel right—her pillow was too hard. She wrinkled her nose and let out a tiny sigh, shifting her cheek against it. Oddly enough, it was warm… firm… and it smelled really, really good. Like fresh rain and musk and something comforting she couldn't name.
She snuggled into it again with a sleepy pout, her lips brushing against skin.
Wait—skin?
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, still hazy with sleep. All she saw at first was a blurry stretch of bare skin inches from her face. Confused, she lifted her head slightly and blinked again, trying to focus.
Her heart skipped.
Muscles.
Real, sculpted muscles—taut and warm beneath her cheek.
Her eyes traveled up slowly until they landed on the unmistakable face of Leonardo Moretti, peacefully asleep.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She was laying on top of Leo.
And he wasn't wearing a shirt.
