Olivia

Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading outward. He was drunk. Had to be. The whiskey talking, making promises he'd regret in the morning.

"You're drunk," I said against his mouth.

"I'm not." He pulled back, eyes searching mine. "I've never been more sober."

"You're definitely drunk."

"Liv."

"Don't." I pressed my fingers to his lips. "Let's just enjoy tonight. Talk about this when you're thinking clearly."

He caught my hand, pressing a ...