Megan returned to her seat, massaging hand cream into her skin. Ever since she had been less pressed for money, she had grown adept at caring for herself. After all, prioritizing oneself was essential.

Back at the table, Ryan had already finished off most of the barbecue. Megan glanced at the young man's T-shirt, plastered against his body by the sea breeze. Her mind flickered with recent visions of him in a swimsuit, their imagery akin to a visual carousel.

His waist was truly slender, a lithe sign of strength.

…Guilty for such thoughts.

Megan resolved to ponder on her digital meditation device later.

"I thought you’d fallen into the toilet," Ryan remarked, discontent with her attempt to evade.

Hearing gossip and planning to dodge a drink? Ryan had already lined up one empty bottle on the table, while Megan's bottle looked barely touched.

“I’m driving,” Megan sighed theatrically.

Ryan's eyes glimmered under the dim light, a wolfish gleam peering through. “The old man hasn’t left you enough to hire a chauffeur?”

"Finish it," he nudged her bottle closer, mocking, “You always told me to keep my promises.”

He wasn’t wrong; Megan wasn’t truly planning to escape. It's just beer, after all, nothing too strong.

With a resolute gulp, she took a large sip—still just as bitter. But this time, an odd aftertaste lingered, reminiscent of cough syrup.

Ryan, under the table, clenched his fists, his knuckles white with tension. He forced a smirk. "That's it?"

Megan was indeed unfamiliar with alcohol. Despite the strange flavor, she assumed it must just be how the brand tasted since she hadn't really savored the earlier sip.

She shook her head, giving Ryan a sidelong look, “What’s the rush? It’s not like I can’t finish it.”

Maybe due to the influence of the alcohol, her cheeks flushed a faint pink, her eyes sparkling with a dewy sheen.

That gaze, imbued with teasing allure, sent Ryan’s thoughts careening into impure directions.

He shuddered, relieved when she didn’t notice anything off. The hand beneath the table unclenched, a small, green bottle rolling silently to the ground.

Grilling by the beach, sipping on beer, what could be more enjoyable?

Ryan, now pacified, didn’t press further as Megan nibbled on the barbecue and finished her drink, while he polished off the remaining three bottles himself.

“Time to go,” Ryan announced, checking the time—it was closing in on half-past ten.

“Mmm…?”

Megan’s doe-like eyes met his, her head tilted in confusion, resembling a dazed kitten.

Ryan felt a surge of heat under her gaze, his tone carried an edge, “What do you mean, ‘mmm’? Let’s go!”

He took a few steps, then stopped abruptly as an idea struck him, spinning around to find Megan still staring blankly at him.

Her cheeks were rosy, yet her eyes lacked focus, her entire demeanor befuddled.

No, she was drunk.

Ryan nudged her cheek with his finger; she tilted her head, confusion written all over her face.

So gullible and naive.

Ryan's lips curved into a smile. He crouched down, drawing closer to her, lowering his voice, “Are you drunk?”

Hot breath on her face, Megan blinked, reaching out to pinch Ryan’s cheek.

“…so handsome.”

She laughed with her eyes, dimpled smile filled with gleaming allure.

Her breath was smooth, sweet with alcohol and a sugary hint, sending shivers down his spine.

Truly, she was drunk.

Ryan’s heart pounded wildly, thoughts whirling chaotically, revolving around one theme—

Off-limits.

Tentatively, he spread his arms, forming an embrace. “Shall I take you home?”

Scented petals seemed to fall into his embrace, overwhelming his senses with an unexpected delight.

He held his breath, his left arm cradling her back, wrapping her slim shoulder, while his right arm scooped under her knees.

Still not satisfied, he tightened his grip, pulling her fully against his chest.

Soft warmth pressed through the fabric, against his chest, syncing with his racing heartbeat.

Ryan felt a tingling rush race up his spine, heating his face.

Her face nestled against his shoulder, the fresh yet alluring scent surrounding him without needing to lean in.

Ryan buried his head in her hair, taking a deep breath, trying to steady his over-excited heart.

Take it slow.

His ambitions weren’t limited to mere touches like this, but much more.

The night market boasted numerous chauffeurs waiting for business. Ryan flagging one down, carried Megan into the car.

Despite being inebriated, she was exceptionally compliant.

She didn’t cry or make a fuss, not even a whimper. Quiet as though she were asleep—or perhaps she had indeed drifted off.

When Ryan laid her on the bed, Megan already had her eyes closed, her breathing steady.

A vein pulsed in Ryan’s forehead; this girl—

But seeing her soft skin exposed, Ryan cooled down.

Asleep… perhaps it was for the best?

Ryan headed into Megan’s bedroom bathroom—a first for him in a woman’s personal space.

The first sight was her freshly laundered lingerie hanging to dry.

An elegant floral pattern on fabric that seemed extraordinarily sensual to Ryan.

Control yourself, he reminded, not touching anything.

Her washstand was a bit messy, matching her carefree nature.

Ryan hesitated a moment, cast a look at Megan sprawled peacefully on the bed, then dashed to his room, quickly brushing his teeth and taking a swift shower.

On his way back, he grabbed a soft, oversized towel.

Re-entering Megan’s room, Ryan’s eyes widened.

Perhaps uncomfortable, Megan had stripped off her denim shorts and shirt, left in only a camisole and panties and curled up on the bed.

Her camisole was slightly rumpled, revealing a bit of her slender waist.

Her creamy thighs lay unabashedly exposed, blue-grey panties modestly covering her most intimate area, highlighting its allure.

Ryan swallowed to moisten his dry throat.

He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for Megan’s arm, “Megan? Wake up.”

The sleeping figure remained oblivious, shifting, inadvertently pulling her camisole lower.

Half her soft bosom spilled out; just a little lower, a faint hint of red could be seen.

—A dozen wild thoughts prowled his mind.

This scolding applied to him as much as anyone.

Ryan shook her again, this time firmly grasping her shoulders, hauling her up off the mattress.

“Megan? You need to wake up!”

“Stop bothering me—”

She murmured without opening her eyes, her tone drawn out in a lazy whimper, like a sleepy child.

“…if you don’t wake up, I’ll take that as a yes.”

Ryan discreetly activated his phone’s recording.

“Megan, do you agree?”

He focused intently on her dream-laden face, shamelessly awaiting a careless reply.

“Whatever…”

Under the influence, bothered by his persistence, Megan finally gave the answer he sought.