⚠ Warning: Contains sexualised contact under intoxication and a power imbalance. Reader discretion is advised.
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The words still hung in the air and were even echoing in Lucas's ears by now.
Maybe I like fire.
He took the risk to look at her, and what met him was a reckless drunken smile. That dark teasing glint in her half-closed eyes.
Every part of his brain that was still somewhat logical screamed at him to shift her away. To put some space, no matter how little, between them. To make sure he stopped this before it spiraled into something he couldn't control.
But he didn't move. He couldn't.
Because he was now suddenly and painfully aware of every tiny detail of her. From the sweet and floral scent of her perfume that was mixing with champagne to the warm press of her thigh against his.
Heck, he was even aware of the shallow way that her chest rose and fell and even the way her dress had ridden up when she had shifted closer.
