Two days ago.
Aylin woke up slowly, feeling completely wiped out from a night she'd definitely remember. Sunlight was streaming through the thick curtains in Zayden's secret bedroom, creating a warm glow over the messed-up black silk sheets. She blinked, her golden-brown eyes getting used to the morning light, and then the memories came rushing back—his hands on her skin, his soft whispers, the way he had taken her virginity with a mix of roughness and care that left her breathless.
She turned her head, her heart doing a little leap. There he was: Zayden, still fast asleep, sprawled out like he owned the world—which, in his mafia world, he kinda did. Half the sheet was hanging low over his hips, showing off his sculpted chest, abs, and one strong thigh. His dark hair was a mess, and his face looked relaxed in sleep, but even out cold, he gave off this dangerous vibe. Naked. Totally, beautifully naked.
