I tried to tell myself it looked sexy-messy-cute, butIwasn’t quite able to convince myself of that.
I also didn’t have that first swipe of cosmetics on.
I was one of those gals who swung both ways.
I could go cosmetics-free (say, ifIwas nipping out to get a croissant and coffee fromMr.Tanugu), orIcould go hog wild (I’dsplurged on one of the best cosme-masks on the market, butIalso had the brushes, sponges, pots, bottles and palettes, because sometimes,Iliked to paint my own face).
Thus, a clean face didn’t bother me (much).
I still would prefer to be made up for a visit from the prince.
AndIwas wearing an ivory lounge outfit with a cropped, heavy-knit top that wasn’t much to look at from the front but had peekaboo overlapping panels at the back that made it kind of sexy.Onmy bottom half were drawstring joggers in matching material that were just not much (thoughIliked to think they did nice things for my behind).
The outfit had been a gift fromErnestaTranscendicaafterI’dused several pieces of hers inRainandPavements(and put her on the map, ifIdid say so myself, but whoever said it, it would be true,PrincessAleeceherself (oh, andPrincessAnnatoo) had attendedErnesta’slast three runway shows, so there was that).Inother words, it was a great set.
But it wasn’t what you’d want to entertain a prince in.
I didn’t have time to slap on my cosme-mask, even on a setting of “natural, casual, at home,” which only took five minutes.Idefinitely didn’t have time to don my mane-mate to do something with my hair.
The door ringer sounded.
Shit,Iforgot to open the door.
Okay, okay, okay.
I would have to do this as just me.
I raced out of the bathroom, calling, “Opendoor.”
It did its thing, andPrinceAlekseisauntered in.
I rocked to a halt, having no choice but to allow my brain and body to respond to his presence in my space.Itdid this by bolting through me, sparking a myriad of pleasant, terrifying and stunned embers that burned, shook and soothed every inch of me.
His suit was black, his shirt blue-black, both attractive, both clearly tailored for him, both in materialImight weep ifIever had the opportunity to work with it.
His thick black hair was brushing his collar and curving around his ear in a way my finger itched to trace that delectable lock.
No.Itwasn’t an itch.
It was a longing.
His head turned my way, and my breath caught.
It was the first timeI’dtruly seen his famous eyes, no shadow obscuring their direct hit, which was what it felt like.
LikeI’dbeen struck by a laser stream.
They were what identified him as the firstTrueHeirof the realm in two centuries.
I remembered when the change had happened for him (he’d been thirteen, soI’dbeen nine).Ialso remembered the exhilarated announcement from thePalace.AndIremembered the week of celebrations it had brought on for the entire realm.
Right now, they were a cloudy sky-blue.
The exact color of the sky outside.
They would change to whatever the color of the sky was, that being the magic that denoted aTrueHeir.
The current color seemed stark in his tanned face, and byBeelzebub, it wasastonishing.
