Caspian sat up in bed, his movements heavy and slow, his eyes glazed with the fog of alcohol.

His fingers gripped Julia’s wrist tightly, pulling her closer. She could smell the whiskey on his breath, feel the warmth of his skin as his grip tightened.

Her heart raced, unsure of what would come next. He leaned forward, his lips pressing against hers in a drunken, unsteady kiss.

Julia’s first instinct was to pull away, to be angry, but her body betrayed her. The heat between them, the roughness of his kiss, stirred something deep inside her.

She hesitated, caught in the moment, her mind spinning with uncertainty. Should she push...