VICTORIA BELLA WASHINGTON
The next morning, I woke up with an arm draped over my belly. Turning carefully, I found myself face-to-face with Vincenzo, his features softened in sleep. The morning light accentuated his chiseled jawline and highlighted the gentle curve of his pink lips. He looked so breathtaking that I could lie there admiring him all day—and I had no doubt he'd enjoy that too.
"Take a picture; it'll last longer," he murmured, eyes still closed. How on earth did he know I was watching him?
"You wish. I was just going to brush something off your face, but it seems you don’t deserve my kindness," I teased, attempting to slip out of bed. Suddenly, his hand shot out, pulling me back, and before I knew it, he was on top of me, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"Care
