Suppressing a sigh, I got up and motioned for the maids to help us. Together, we managed to haul him up toward the bedroom. Donovan hated anyone else touching him when he was like this, so once we laid him on the bed, I sent the maids away.
I fetched a cold compress and a towel, and as I returned, I began unbuttoning his polo, revealing his familiar well-built chest. Gently, I wiped him down, trying to ease his discomfort.
He was still awake, though, watching me with a gaze that felt... different. His eyes lingered on me in a way they hadn't in a long time.
"Damn, Clara," he rasped, his voice low, "you're still so beautiful."
Before I could respond, he pulled me toward him, our faces brushing together, and without warning, our lips met in a kiss that tasted of both longing and regret.
I pulled away after only ten seconds, the taste of alcohol lingering on my lips, and the reality sinking in. Donovan wouldn't kiss me if he weren't sober.
The truth pressed hard against me, but before I could get up, he grabbed me again, his hands moving deliberately, caressing my chest.
"Donovan... I don't want to do this," I whispered.