Isabella’s POV
Ethan didn’t move as I gripped his hand to pull myself closer. And he held himself deathly still as I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“You’re drunk,” Ethan said roughly.
“I’m not drunk,” I insisted before pressing another kiss to his lips as if that action could somehow convince him of the truth of my words.
His other hand snapped out to cup the back of my neck, holding me still when I attempted to kiss him again.
“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Ethan told me gruffly, his body almost vibrating with tension.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I whispered teasingly. “I’m fulfilling my wifely duties. I believe your exact word was ‘obligations.’”
I smiled when his eyes narrowed at my words. “I’m warning you. You can’t regret this later.”
I allowed the warmth in my veins to rule my actions. My fingers that had wrapped around his wrist slackened and slid up the perfectly carved muscles of his arm to rest on his shoulder.