To Kiss a King
“He was so tall. Broad shoulders, narrow hips. He wore black jeans, a dark green pullover shirt—open at the collar, with short sleeves that displayed tanned, muscular forearms. His boots were scuffed and well worn, just adding to the whole “danger” mystique. His features were stark, but somehow beautiful. His eyes shone like a summer sky and the mouth she had thought about way too often was quirked in a half smile. “I’m impressed.” “You are?” she asked. “With what?” “You’re ready to go,” he said, sweeping his gaze up and down her before meeting her gaze again. “Not going to have me sit in the living room while you finish your hair or put on makeup or decide what to wear?” Her eyebrows lifted. He had no way of knowing of course, but she had been raised to be punctual. The King of Cadria never kept people waiting and he expected the same of his family. “Well,” she said, “that was completely sexist. Good morning to you, too.” He grinned, obviously unapologetic.
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