She appeals to reason with her words but sensuality with her hands, and right now, the influence of the latter overwhelms. Every touch sparked and inch gained circulates through his whole being like magic even though there is absolutely none involved. It's enchanting, beguiling... but he's not so compromised that he can't weigh his decisions with no accuracy anymore. The alcohol in his system isn't even the brunt of the problem with him: it's the low smolder of his hormones poked to flare brighter. He knows what he wants.

"What should I regret about this?" His hand trails down the shape of her waist, filling him with more want. "You're not going to give me anything to regret, are you?"