Javier Sinclair raised his head and looked at the woman before him.
Even in the dim light, he could see her face clearly.
His gaze darkened as he watched her.
"Come here. Sit on my lap."
The moment he spoke, his hands were already moving. He grabbed Celeste Grant by the waist and pulled her into his embrace. She found herself straddling his right leg, her hands instinctively coming to rest on his shoulders. As their eyes met, she could see the tenderness in his.
"Celeste, let me hold you for a bit."
As he spoke, Javier Sinclair wrapped his arms around her waist, lowered his head to rest on her shoulder, and held her close. At this distance, she could smell the faint scent of alcohol on him.
"You reek of alcohol."
"Do I? I don't smell anything…"
Held like this by Javier Sinclair, Celeste Grant felt like a plush pillow, unable to move. She pressed her hands against his chest and tried to shift, but she couldn't budge.
"Archfiend, you're holding me too tight."
