Lewis’ POV

Sophia remains fast asleep, head against my chest. Still holding her up, I’ve not moved an inch. I stroke the soft fur on her back as I study her features. Her face is warm crimson, and there’s a frown crossing it.

“Why did you drink so much?” I mutter painfully. Yet I’m thankful. The only reason I get to hold her this close is ‘cause she’s dead drunk.

I drop my eyes to her parted lips, getting thirsty by the second.

And slowly, I begin to inch closer, giving in to ...