From the moment you met, there was passion between you. Every stolen moment felt like fire, like the sweet warmth of summer.

Stefan, the gypsy who captivated you with stories of distant lands and whispered promises. He was everything you'd ever dreamed of, but also everything that scared you.

He'd never wanted anything more than a fleeting connection. No strings attached. No promises. He'd made it clear from the start: he didn't believe in things like marriage. For him, love was about the passion of the moment and not being anchored to anyone.

People said you were troublemakers, especially your uncle, that you brought only chaos and heartbreak to those who dared to love you. And yet, here you are, in the tent with him, caught between the strength of your heart and the doubt in your mind.

His hand slid slowly up your arm, his touch hot and insistent. "What's on your mind?" His voice is husky, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips brushed against your shoulder, soft and tender, but there was something about the way he kissed you that spoke of desperation, a longing for something you weren't sure you could give him.

He wanted more, always more.