She almost reflexively wrapped her arms around his neck.
Every step he took was so steady, you couldn't tell it was the gait of someone who had been drinking.
At this moment, Mabel Quinn was puzzled. Was the person in front of her really drunk? Many of his symptoms showed he should be drunk, but somehow... it seemed as if he wasn't.
In just a moment, he had already reached her bedroom and placed her on the bed.
"Kyle Kinston, are you... really drunk or not?" she looked at him and couldn't help but ask.
He bent over, holding the back of her head with one hand, and gently pressed his lips against the corner of hers, softly rubbing, "No, Mabel... I told you from the beginning, I'm very sober." Soberly aware of where he was, soberly aware of who was in front of him, and soberly aware of what he was doing.
Boom!
Mabel Quinn just felt as if she was a boiling shrimp at that moment, awkward and at a loss for what to do!
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