The lock screen photo was a selfie she'd taken—not even a full-face shot, just the upper half of her brows and eyes. The most striking part was how she'd deliberately tousled her hair to fall in messy strands over her forehead. A touch of flirtatious elegance, red lips slightly parted, eyes smoldering with a dreamy look.
"But I've got one that looks even better," Morrison said, placing a feather-light kiss at the corner of her lips.
Lilian blinked. "What do you mean?"
In response, Morrison pulled out his own phone, opened the gallery, and handed it to her.
The second she looked, Lilian wanted to strangle him.
They were all photos of her while she was asleep—when had he even taken them?!
Though she was wrapped tightly in a blanket, her bare shoulder and arm were exposed. Anyone with half a brain could guess what had happened between them.
