Anne had two male attendants carry the drunken Zachary up to a guest room on the third floor.
Once they left, she locked the door behind them and poured a glass of water.
Zachary was slumped against the headboard. He was half-conscious and still mumbling incoherently under his breath.
"Zach, take a sip of this hangover drink," Anne said, holding the glass of drugged liquid. She slipped an arm behind his head and held the glass to his lips.
Lost in a drunken haze, Zachary thought it was more alcohol and instinctively took a large sip.
"You're dead drunk. Why don't you just stay here tonight?" Anne set the glass aside and slowly drew the curtains shut.
Within minutes, Zachary began to feel a strange heat spreading through his body. His chest pounded, his skin burned, and sweat soaked his shirt. Although his thoughts were hazy, his senses were on fire.
"What's wrong?" Anne turned around and saw him tossing restlessly on the bed. With a flushing face, he locked his sharp gaze onto her.
She deliberately moved over and asked, "Are you having a fever? Let me check…"
The moment her hand touched his forehead, he grabbed her waist and pulled her down with him. Overcome by an intense, uncontrollable heat, he behaved like a beast.
He didn't care who was underneath him. With his overpowering desire, all he needed was an outlet.
Anne didn't resist. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his back, letting him take the lead as their clothes fell away. They gave in completely, lost in the chaos of fevered passion.
It was a long night.
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