June’s Point of View
“I might actually melt if you keep staring at me like that,” I croaked in a sleepy voice as I cracked one eye open.
The early morning sun spilled gently through the blinds, casting golden ribbons across the sheets—but even through the soft haze of light, I could feel it: that unmistakable weight of his gaze on me.
And sure enough, when my vision cleared, the first thing I saw was Dos—lying on his side, head resting on his palm, that sinfully smug grin dancing on his lips.
He was watching me like I was some rare piece of art. Or maybe like I was something even more fragile. Something sacred.
“Sorry, can’t help it,” he said, eyes tracing every inch of my face like it was the first time he’d ever seen me. “You’re just… beautiful. Even when you’re asleep.”
I blinked
