I was drunk. Spectacularly, gloriously drunk. The world spun around me as I sat in the back of a luxury car, trying to make sense of the handsome man beside me.
"You feel familiar," I murmured, leaning closer to him. "Like someone from a dream."
His cologne—or whatever it was—smelled intoxicating. My inhibitions were nonexistent, and something about him made me feel safe. I couldn't remember the last time a man had made me feel that way.
I reached for his face, my fingers tracing his sharp jawline. "Has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful?"
"Ms. Shaw," he said firmly, gently removing my hand. "You're intoxicated."
I pouted, undeterred. "Don't you find me attractive?" Without waiting for his response, I leaned in, aiming my lips for his.
He turned his head, and my kiss landed on his cheek instead. "You've had too much to drink," he said, his voice low and controlled.
