The next morning, Delilah woke to the soft, warm sensation of Hunter's arm draped over her waist. For a moment, she froze, unsure if her movement would stir him from his sleep.
Slowly, her eyes drifted to his face—peaceful, relaxed, completely at ease in a way she rarely saw.
He looked different when he slept, almost vulnerable, his usual teasing expression replaced by a quiet softness. She felt a strange tug in her chest, a longing to reach out and trace her fingers along the line of his jaw. But she resisted. She didn't want to disturb him, didn't want to shatter this peaceful moment. He had been through a lot the previous day, and she knew he needed his rest.
As she lay there, trying not to move, her eyes wandered to his phone on the nightstand. It was just sitting there, so innocuous, yet she couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity.
