Carlos nodded again. “Could you, I don’t know... check if she might be into me?”
“I’ll do what I can, but man up and ask her. Aren’t you as old as my grandpa?”
Carlos flipped him off, but Ilias was already stepping away because Sofia was stumbling off the table. Before she could crash into the floor, he caught her. She melted into his arms like she belonged there.
She looked up, her usual bright brown eyes hazy with alcohol but still,dios, wasn’t she the most gorgeous drunk woman he’d ever seen?
“Ilias,” she slurred but chirped, beaming. “I’m so happy you’re here!”
“Are you now?” he said, wrapping her tighter against his body.
She nodded eagerly, arms going around his neck, fingers threading into his curls.
“Yes. I’m always happy when you’re around.”
It was sloppy, blurry, and soaked in vodka, but drunk people were like kids, weren’t they? No filters. Just truth.
And he clung to that truth like it was oxygen.
“And I’m always happy to have you around,” he replied, caressing her back gently. “And I know you’re very, very drunk right now... and sober Sofia is going to be mortified about confessing this.”
“Sober Sofia is boring.”
“I think she’s cool. And smart. And hot as hell.”
Sofia giggled. “Do you remember we kissed today?”
Ilias exhaled hard through his nose and immediately turned her away from the crowd. He spotted Coach hauling Amira over his shoulder and Carlos leading Alejandra away. Good. He could focus all his energy on the intoxicated goddess melting against his chest, saying dangerous things with dangerous eyes.
He had to think of anything—literally anything—not to get hard. Her body was flush against him, soft and warm, her voice sweet and slurred and dripping with temptation. This might be more complicated to handle than Snapper Rocks.
“I do remember,” he said, slipping his arm beneath hers to keep her steady.
Yep. She was deep in it.
“I liked it a lot.You’re a very good kisser,” she said, booping his lips with her finger. “Do you wanna kiss me now?”
Joder.
“Yes, Sofia, I desperately want to kiss you,” he said, his voice low, nearly begging. “But not while you’re clearly drunk.”
“I’m not drunk. You’re drunk.”
“I agree to disagree,” he said with a soft laugh.
“Would you kiss sober Sofia?”
He couldn’t hold back a real, guttural laugh.
“I would do many things to sober Sofia.”
“Like?” she asked, voice lower now, sultry. Her eyes, though glassy, were pinned to his.
He felt his throat tighten.
“I’ll tell you when you’re very sober. Because I want you to remember every single detail.”
He gripped her chin gently, bringing her face closer to his.
