“Saved you,” he smirks. He is loving the hero feeling he just got from technically saving me. Technically. I’ve survived that bachelorette party, I can make it to bed in one piece.
I think.
I’ve drunk tequila before. Maybe not next to this much sambuca. And champagne. Or on a wobbling, constantly swaying yacht.
It turns out Ash is quite a sweet drunk. He just stares at me even more openly, even when he thinks he’s covering his eyes with his flailed hand.
The instant I land against him, the warmth and strength of his body makes me flutter inside. But Ash can’t know that. So I protest instead.
“Ash! Ash! Let me go!” adding in some furious little fists into those sculpted abs.
How is it fair that even when drunk he looks stunning. Those dark eyes are inescapable and the amount of time
