Emily woke slowly, her body heavy with exhaustion and something else—a profound ache that spoke of the intensity of the night before. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was. The sheets against her skin were silk, impossibly soft and cool. The light filtering through the windows was different—softer, more golden than she'd ever seen in Hong Kong.
Then memory crashed over her like a wave, and she became acutely aware of the warm, solid presence behind her.
Alexander.
His arm was wrapped around her waist, possessive even in sleep—or what she'd thought was sleep. His body curved against hers, skin against skin, and she could feel every breath he took, every controlled beat of his heart against her back.
