The kiss that followed was unhurried, deep with meaning neither of them could fully express. Laura's hands slid around his neck, drawing him closer as the fire crackled and the ancient stones stood guard.
Their lovemaking that night was different—slower, almost reverent. Each touch seemed to connect them not just to each other but to something larger, as if the old magic of the place had transformed into something healing rather than destructive.
Dante's hands worshipped her body, tracing every curve as if memorizing her. Laura responded in kind, her fingers mapping the planes of his chest, the strong lines of his shoulders.
"I feel you," she whispered against his skin. "Not just here—" she pressed her palm to his heart, "—but deeper."
Dante's eyes darkened with emotion. "I've never fe
