It was part plea, part coy wheedling.
In short, it wasn't something a sober Shane Sterling would say.
'He's really drunk,' Isla Prescott thought.
"Give me a kiss, won't you?"
His fingers traced her red lips, again and again. She wondered if it was because of the alcohol, but his gaze had grown so tender.
Isla Prescott felt the warmth of Shane Sterling's fingertips ignite on her lips. The heat spread across her entire face, leaving her with a giddy, tipsy feeling as her own heart began to race.
"Miss Isabelle..." Mrs. Zane's voice echoed from the hallway.
Isla Prescott jolted. She quickly pushed Shane Sterling away and scrambled out of his arms. Fortunately, he didn't try to hold on to her. He just rolled over, facedown on the bed, and went still.
