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I pulled my hand out from under the blanket, finger hovering in midair. After a few seconds of hesitation, I let it settle on his brow bone.

My fingertip traced down his sharp brow, over the bridge of his nose, along his defined jawline, finally coming to rest on those lips, slightly reddened from last night's kisses.

Was this man even real?

Was he really lying beside me?

Had those words last night—those words that nearly exploded my heart—really come from his mouth?

My fingertip pressed lightly against his lower lip, feeling the soft, warm texture. An indescribable happiness surged from deep in my chest, threatening to drown me.

Just as I traced his lips, they parted suddenly and bit down on my finger!

"Ah!" I gasped, shoulders jerking back.

He didn't bite hard—just grazed my fingertip with his teeth. Those gray-green eyes snapped open, pupils sharp and clear.

He released my finger, grabbed my suspended hand, and pulled it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

"Good morning, little girl." His Adam's apple bobbed, voice rough with sleep. "Restless already, hmm?"

My face burned to my ears as I yanked my hand back. "I wasn't! I was just confirming last night was real!"

"Reliving last night?" He chuckled low, chest rumbling beneath me.

"Shut up!" I grabbed the pillow and whacked it at his face.

Marcelo laughed, the hand at my waist tightening as he pulled me up. I crashed against his chest, eye level with that scabbed bite mark on his shoulder.

Marcelo followed my gaze to his right shoulder, lips curling wickedly. He leaned close to my ear, warm breath hitting my skin. "Your handiwork, Ruby. You're even more 'sharp-toothed' than I expected."

I buried my face in the crook of his neck, silent.

He laughed, ruffling my hair and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. His stubble scraped my skin, sending a fine tingle across my scalp.

"Sleep a bit more. I'll grab a shower."

He released me, swept aside the silk sheet tangled around us, and strode naked toward the bathroom.

The glass door slid open. Water hitting tile echoed out moments later.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, grinning like an idiot. The happiness in my chest nearly overflowed, making me bury my face in the pillow and scream silently like a teenager.

On the nightstand, the black satellite phone buzzed.

The screen lit up.

I hesitated. It was his private phone. I had no right.

But whoever it was wouldn't quit.

The phone vibrated continuously, accompanied by urgent message alerts. It scraped across the mahogany surface, inching toward the edge.

I sat up, clutching the blanket, and called toward the bathroom. "Marcelo! Your phone won't stop buzzing!"

The water kept running. Through the frosted glass door came his voice, low and casual, blending with the spray.

"Check it for me, little rose. See who it is."