Page 76 of The Princess and Her Grand King

Like frost over a windowpane, a shiver of awareness spread through her.

Her traitorous body reacted instantly, sending a clear message:Hey look, it’s our sexy-as-hell beloved.

Needless to say, her every nerve endings were in a state of disarray.

Her legs wanted to move toward him.

Her hand itched to reach out and touch his neatly styled black hair, to trail over the white strands.

Her lips longed to move closer to his, brushing against them in the guise of an accident.

Her tongue wished to venture inside his mouth.

And her behind shamelessly wanted to sit on those strong thighs again.

Yeah, she was pathetic like that.

Even ‘bad, bad’ didn’t begin to cover how bad she had it for this male.

"You summoned me, Your Grace." Special thanks to her voice for remaining strong in these hard times, where every other part of her quaked.

"I did," he gave her a tired smile. "How do you fare, prettiest beloved?"

No one had yet answered her question of"what alternate universe did I fall into?"

Not that Emeriel planned to stop asking until she received a reasonable answer.

"Marvelous, Your Majesty," she said coolly. "To what do I owe this summons?"

"I heard you are quite skilled with numbers." He gestured towards a stack of scrolls piled high on his desk. "I was hoping you could assist me with these. There’s so much to catch up on, and it’s expected after such a long break, but… heavens, I could use the help.”

He was asking her for help? Wanted to workwithher?

Emeriel absolutely hated the way her damn heart somersaulted.

Nor did she appreciate the way her wandering eyes noted every trace of exhaustion on his striking face, every line of fatigue.

"But surely there are others who could assist you with this?" Her voice might just be her best trait yet. It amazed her how neutral it remained. "I don’t think you needmefor this."

Sadness flashed in his eyes.

Not the new kind he gave whenever she turned down his offers, but the old kind. That one she had rarely seen since her return but had been his constant companion two years ago.

"My late bondmate, she used to help when the workload became too much," he admitted quietly. "Or my first son."

A small smile touched his lips. "You could never get my youngest to sit still for this sort of work."

Console him.

It took considerable effort to keep her legs rooted to the spot. They wanted so badly to close the distance between them.

Her instincts, just like her traitorous body, were her greatest enemy.

"Alvin would sit with a quill for one minute—" his gaze turned distant "—and the next, he'd be in his chambers, napping. Or chasing the nearest skirt."

Comfort him.

King Daemonikai's eyes refocused. "So, Princess Emeriel,” he said gently. “Do you think you could help me get some of this work done?"

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