Delilah's bedroom was dimly lit, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting hues against the cream-colored walls.
Delilah lay on her side, her head nestled against Hunter's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His warmth seeped into her, calming her.
After a long day, there was something incredibly soothing about this— about the quiet intimacy of just lying here with him, their bodies entwined beneath the covers.
Hunter's fingers traced idle patterns along her bare shoulder, his touch featherlight. "So," he murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness, "tell me about work."
Delilah exhaled a quiet sigh, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. "Work was… busy," she admitted. "I had a showing this morning— a young couple looking for their first home. They were so excited about everything. The wife kept running from room to room, and the husband just stood there shaking his head like he could already see the bills piling up."
