In a sudden gaze, Moira was utterly bewildered.

'He was asleep, wasn't he? How did he suddenly open his eyes?' Her mind went blank for a moment, but her ears and face reacted swiftly, flushing crimson.

Moira felt like her whole face was on fire. She looked at Barclay for what seemed like ages before stammering, "Weren't you asleep?" "No," he replied.

'He wasn't asleep? Does that mean Barclay knows everything I did just now?' This realization made Moira want to flee, but she couldn't.

Barclay's hand was still clasped around her wrist, and as she attempted to pull away, he only tightened his grip.

The next moment, Moira heard Barclay's deep voice questioning. "What were you doing just now, Ms. Jimenez?"

Facing Barclay's interrogation, Moira's mind went blank, and she looked at him in embarrassment. "I think I might be drunk, Mr. Covington."

'Yes! I'll say I'm drunk! Drunk people aren't in their right minds! I didn't mean to!' she thought desperately.

Barclay looked at her, his eyebrows raised slightly, seeming somewhat incredulous. "Really?"

drunk, Moira grabbed Barclay's hand and

cheek, his eyes flickering. He

relief. "When I'm drunk, I tend to get touchy-feely. It's not

it?" he replied and raised an eyebrow. "And

he took her hand and placed it near his lips. "I'd

weird fetish? Why did he enjoy having people touch him randomly?' Moira's hand was held, and the heat on her face intensified compared to before. Barclay continued to gaze at

roasted on a spit, with the fire already singeing

all,

up, but her index finger trembled as she approached his lips

recoiled as if shocked and pulled

as getting touchy-feely, does it?" Barclay looked at her, his eyes deep with

her earlier lustful thoughts and regretted even more her cowardice

lie led to a thousand more, and eventually, the truth would always come

now, her mind was blank. She couldn't think of a

should just

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