Dylan walked in, smoothly approaching her side of the bed.
Adelyn's eyes followed him, staying fixed on him as he came to a stop beside her.
Before she could snap out of her daze, she found him leaning down toward her.
She didn't realize what he was about to do, but her body reacted instinctively to the sudden closing proximity.
Her cheeks turned crimson, and something deep in the pit of her stomach clenched.
This ...
"Mr. Warren, what are you—?"
Before she could ask him anything, his hand pressed against her forehead —making her breath hitch slightly.
"You no longer have a temperature," Dylan said quietly.
His tone was serious, as though he meant nothing beyond checking her condition.
Adelyn stared up at him, completely flustered.
Did she misunderstand him?
How could she?
Why ...
Why was it that whenever she was around him, she couldn't simply stay logical?
Of course, his leaning closer could only have been because he wanted to check her condition.
