"You're really fucking gorgeous." He slurred out of nowhere, my brows furrowing as I lowered my hand away from his face. "Don't talk to me like that." I said, intending to be stern, but sounding more flustered than anything. "Talk like what?" He asked, a knowing smirk creeping onto his disgustingly drunk, yet still strikingly handsome face. As soon as I opened my mouth to scold him, a hand gripped my thigh and pulled it over his other leg. When he was finished I was straddling his lap, his hands traveling slowly up the backs of my thighs. "Stop." I said sternly, pulling back when he sat up straight, one of his hands leaving me to hold himself up. "Why?" He asked, his eyes hooded slightly as he stared down at me, his other hand leaving my thigh to gently grasp my jaw. "You're drunk and not making smart choices." I told him, gripping his wrist to try to pry his hand off, but he wasn't budging. "Not a good enough reason to stop."