A sharp breeze slid across my skin, cool and clean, carrying that faint electric feeling that always hummed around him. I shivered before I could stop myself. Lewis, who had been holding me close, noticed right away and loosened his grip just enough to look at me.
He lifted his hand and wiped the trace of wine from the corner of my mouth with his thumb, slow and careful, like it mattered. Then his arm came back around me, firm and warm, blocking the wind without thinking about it. His voice dropped low, rough in a way that curled through my chest.
"Was it to your taste?"
I blinked up at him, my head fuzzy. I wasn't really listening. I was watching his mouth move, feeling the pull in my gut that had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with instinct.
Before I could answer, a sneeze escaped me. He chuckled softly and rubbed the tip of my nose with his knuckle, an easy, familiar gesture.
"Alright," he said, already deciding for both of us. "Let's head back."
