Close to noon the next day, Abigail Hemsworth's eyelids twitched slightly before she slowly and weakly opened her eyes.
Everything in front of her was a blur, and the bright light instinctively made her tilt her head, her brow furrowing.
Warmth pressed against her eyes, and she moved slightly, rejecting the sudden skin contact.
"Don't move."
A deep, slightly hoarse voice came from beside her ear. Although it was different from the usual clear tone, Abigail still recognized it and lay still.
The outline of the eye moved in the palm, the sensation particularly clear.
Travis Miller's hand loosened its grip slightly.
"Open your eyes first."
As the words were spoken, Abigail felt her eyelids lift, her long eyelashes brushing back and forth against the palm.
Slowly, his hand moved away from her eyes, and Abigail blinked, looking past the entire room to the man sitting by the bed.
Slender black eyes, calm and profound brows, thin and sharp lips, a perfectly straight nose.
