I Don’t Want Anything.

Hunter walked into the kitchen the next morning, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling French toast drawing him in.

Delilah was at the stove, her back to him, moving with graceful efficiency as she prepared breakfast. The sight of her so engrossed in her task, brought a tender smile to his lips.

Quietly, he approached her from behind, his footsteps light on the tiled floor, and without a word, Hunter slipped his arms around Delilah's waist, pulling her back against his chest.

Delilah gasped, startled by his sudden presence when she had only just been thinking of him. She began to twist away, but he whispered, "Relax. Just give me a moment." His voice was low and soothing, a gentle command she found impossible to resist.

Delilah stilled, her heart racing as Hunter's hands roamed lightly over her stomach. He nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling the sweet, floral scent of her shampoo.