I don't want to stop. Every fiber of my being wants to do this, but even in my drunk state I know that she is right. Fuck, I'll be lucky if I remember any of this come the morning.
"Right." I nod, squeezing my eyes shut. "You're right." Then, realising how uncomfortable it must be to holding that dress up, I reach and pull the zipper back up. In doing so my fingers brush over her skin, setting me alight, so I quickly pull them back. I clench my jaw, trying to get my body back under control, but that's a struggle when I'm sober and nearly impossible now I'm drunk.
"I'm... I'm going to take a shower." I say, my voice strained. Emma nods, looking around the room. I realise she's never been in here, but it feels so right for her to be. Her eyes find mine again and she frowns as we hear the water from the other bathroom stop running. Gabriel knows. He hasn't said anything, bless the man, but I know he realised what happened the moment we sat back down at the booth.
"Should I sleep here?" Emma asks softly. The look in her eyes tells me that her body and mind are in disagreement over the answer, just like mine. Even if Brie knowing we made out, sleeping in the same bed with him in the house feels like a step too far - ignoring the fact that I was to toss her on the bed just a minute ago. Against better judgement, I pull her to me for another kiss, softer than the other ones we've had so far. My voice is hoarse when I speak, my body screaming for that shower.
"I want you to." I whisper. "But maybe... not."
I think there's a flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but since I feel the same way I don't think too much of it.
"Right." She says, letting out a nervous laugh. The tension is back, more so than before, because we both want this so badly, but have now decided we're not going to. Her eyes wander down my exposed chest and she reaches out, trailing a finger down my chest and then my stomach; it feels so good the room starts spinning, though that may be because I'm drunk. My head falls back and I groan softly - she immediately pulls her hand back, clutching it to her chest with a cheeky smile. "Miss Middleton," I whisper, not trusting my voice. "Please don't do that until we are alone and sober."
Gabriel's footsteps in the hall snap me back to reality. "He usually sleeps in the guestroom across from yours, so you shouldn't be running into him in your bed."
Even in the dim lighting I can see her eyes sparkle. "Jealous?"
I offer her a tired smile - and suddenly my body chimes in on that feeling; I got up at 6 am and it can't be earlier than 5 am now. "Terribly."
She stands on her toes to kiss me once again, a slow and tender one, before pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Goodnight, Lucien."
I don't want her to go. I want her to sleep in my bed so I can kiss her and hold her and fall asleep with her in my arms. She leaves, leaving me alone and lonely, craving every part of her. I stand there for far too long, hoping she'll come back. She doesn't, because of course she's the more sensible of us both. I rub my eyes and head for the shoulder, turning it to the coldest setting.

I don't often throw up, but taking an icy shower and then laying down in an unmoving bed does it to me: I sprint back to the bathroom, emptying every last bit of my stomach. Several times. The light is already peeping through the windows when I finally make it to my bed. I crawl deep into my covers, shivering. I've been drunk before, but this is all new. Maybe it's all the excitement from kissing Emma... I fall asleep with her name on my mind, but all the alcohol in my system makes it so that I don't dream.

I don't know what time it is when I wake up. I don't want to know. The second I sit up, my stomach lurches again and I barely make it to the bathroom in time. My hangovers never include the throwing up. Am I getting old? I splash water in my face. I look like a wreck: lots of alcohol, little sleep and wet curls in bed, so they're frizzy and all over the place. I feel too shaky for another shower, so I decide to leave it. Fuck it. I throw on my sweatpants and a soft robe of cotton before heading out of the bedroom. The closer I get to the kitchen, the more intense of bacon and eggs get. I'm greeted by Gabriel, who's sitting at the bar with a plateful and the paper. He looks like he's just come home from a retreat - this man doesn't do hangovers, no matter how much he's drunk. The only sign he's not entirely feeling himself are the glasses, which is only wears when he's too tired for his contacts. When he sees me he puts his paper down with a wicked grin.
"Good morning, casanova."
"Shut up." I pull open the fridge for a bottle of water.
"Alright, alright." He smirks, taking a bite of his eggs before shoving his plate my way as I take place next to him.
"God, no." I shake my head, the intense smell making me want to throw up all over again. I barely even get a sip of water down. He eyes me a little suspiciously.
"That drink really got you down, huh? Never seen you like this."
"Seems like it did." I force another sip of water down. "Where's Emma?"
"In the shower. I must say, I was a little surprised to see her come out of the guestroom." His grin returns.
"Yeah well, turns out she's the more sensible of us two."
I put my head on the cool marble because it feels like I'm burning up, reliving the events of last night. It was fantastic, marvelous and mind blowing. But with a sober mind it was also incredibly idiotic and senseless. I know that. I just don't want to act on it.

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