A blush rose to Ava's cheeks. She squirmed, muttering, "Jerk!"
But Dylan only held her tighter, his gaze playful. "Are you blushing?" he teased, clearly enjoying her discomfort.
Ava threw him a hot glare, her cheeks turning even redder.
"Just a while ago, you were begging me to take you," he went on, unable to hide his smirk. "Now, suddenly, you want to escape!"
She pushed against him, her attempts feeble against his strength. The mix of embarrassment and anger roiled within her. Who would have thought that her drink was spiked? This entire situation felt surreal—she never should've touched that wine in the first place. It wasn't supposed to end up like this.
"Don't move," he commanded, reaching for a towel and gently rubbing it over her damp hair. "It's not the first time I've seen you like this," he continued. "And relax—I'm not going to take advantage of you."
