42 – A wordless confession

The next morning, Vittoria stretched slowly between the tangled sheets, her body still wrapped in the gentle warmth lingering from the night before.

Every muscle seemed to carry the memory of a deep, exhaustive surrender, yet light, as if she had finally rested in the only place she truly belonged.

She kept her eyes closed for a few seconds, her face pressed into the pillow, as if trying to prolong that feeling—the touch of his skin, the slow kisses in the early hours.

It was more than desire. It was intensity in perfect measure, unhurried pleasure, and love whispered through skin.

Vincenzo hadn’t touched her merely out of want. He had touched her like a man who loved deeply, who felt every gesture, every breath.

Each time he pulled her close, it wasn’t impulse or bodily need—it was raw affection, as if love spilled through his hands and lips without asking permission.

A silent, constant choice to love her whole, without defenses, without reservations, without halves.

Every kiss, ever