Gavin
Morning sunlight poured through the blinds in slanted streaks, casting golden light over Daphne’s bare shoulder. Her hair was tousled across the pillow, one arm slung across my chest. Her heartbeat was calm, steady—entwined with mine in a way that made the bond between us thrum like a steady drumbeat in my chest.
I hadn’t expected to sleep. Not after everything. Not after last night. But I had—deeply, dreamlessly—and now I didn’t want to move.
She stirred beside me.
“Are you awake?” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.
“Yeah,” I said, turning to kiss her forehead. “Did you sleep okay?”
She blinked up at me, her green eyes clearer now, her smile softer. “Better than I have in weeks.”
She leaned in and kissed me—slow at first, but then her fingers slid down my stomach
