Seriously, drunk Raven, shut up.

He pauses, hesitancy written all over his face as he lowers his hand from me. “How drunk are you?”

I give a half-shrug. “I don’t know. I’m just saying the truth. I … I like it when you touch me. I’m not used to it, but I like it.”

He stares at me for a beat while dragging his teeth along his bottom lip. Then, without uttering a word, he reaches out, takes the bottle from my hand, and downs a long swallow. When he removes the bottle from his lips, he rubs them together as he extends his hand toward my face. No, not my face. My lips. With his fingers, he traces a path along the bottom one.

“I love touching you, too, baby. You’re so soft …” He moves his fingers back and forth across my bottom lip. “And if it weren’t for a lot of complications and the fact that I think you might be a bit drunk, I might just see what you taste like.”

My breath catches in my throat. Then, through the fogginess in my mind, a voice whispers at me that maybe I should lean back from his touch. I’m not sure, why—the fogginess is too thick.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and my breath catches again. He parts his lips … but then he sighs, lowering his hand. “And here comes Dad to ruin our fun.”

“Wait … your dad’s here?” I’m so confused.

An instant later, headlights illuminate across the driveway.

I look back through the rear window and spot Zay’s car pulling into the driveway. Apparently, Dad means Zay. I realize then that the guys never use their garage. I wonder why but don’t get the opportunity to ask as Hunter climbs out of the car.

I follow suit, sliding to the edge of the seat and getting out. As I stand up, I become aware that I’m a tad more drunk than I thought, but nothing I can’t handle. Hunter must disagree, since he rounds the front of the car, comes up beside me, and slips his arm around my back.

Zay hops out of his car then makes his way toward us, the chain that dangles from his belt loop jingling.

The closer he gets to where we’re standing close to the porch light, the more I can make out his features … and the fresh cut across his face.

“Did you get into a fight?” I ask, leaning my weight into Hunter.

He studies me closely. “Are you drunk?”

I glance around like the answers are hidden in the bushes somewhere. “Um … maybe?” I return my gaze to Zay.

Zay looks at Hunter. “What the hell is going on? Where did you guys go?”

Hunter hesitates, and right at that precise moment, Jax stumbles out of the bushes, startling Zay enough that he jolts.

“Shit,” Jax curses as he trips over a bush and nearly falls on his face. He manages to regain his balance, though, and walks over to us.