Page 77 of Royal Crush

I was speechless.

When we arrived at the face painting, Oliver released my hand, excusing himself for a quick chat with an employee. The man’s eyes widened as he nodded enthusiastically, pointing to the lone face-painting station that was open among the five.

Curiosity piqued, I settled into the chair in the corner of the tent and waited, watching as Oliver rejoined me.

“What did you tell him?” I inquired.

Oliver shrugged with a mischievous grin. “The truth. I told him I was Prince Oliver, and in exchange for keeping it a secret and letting me paint you, I promised him a tour of the royal palace.”

“Huh,” I said. “That was easy. Are you sure the queen won’t mind?”

“No—we do tours occasionally,” Oliver said. “The real challenge will be keeping my focus while painting you.” He grabbed a paintbrush and dipped it into a vibrant blue.

“What are you going to draw?” I asked.

Oliver’s grin widened. “You’ll see.”

As Oliver began to paint, the atmosphere turned suddenly more intimate than I could have ever imagined, considering we were in public. Each stroke of the brush on my skin sent shivers down my spine. His gentle touch awakened senses in me I thought were long dead. Even our conversation became more intimate when he brought up the unfinished portrait session at the palace.

“I wanted to kiss you,” he admitted in a whisper as his gaze met mine. “More than you can imagine.”

I felt a surge of courage, and I said, “Me, too.”

The air between us crackled with unspoken tension. As he continued to paint, the brush glided across my skin, and a magnetic force seemed to pull us closer.

It was impossible to ignore our chemistry.

I finally broke the charged silence.

“What are we going to do about our . . . situation?”

Oliver paused, eyes locked onto mine, and countered with a playful smirk, “What would normal people do?”

“I may be normal, but you are far from it,” I replied, meeting his gaze with a teasing glint. “You’re the prince of Verdana, engaged to Princess Veronica. I don’t see any logical way for us to explore our feelings.”

His eyes softened, and he met my gaze with sincerity. “What if I weren’t marrying her? Would you want to explore this?”

I nodded, feeling my heartbeat quicken. “Yes. Without a doubt.”

“Good,” Oliver said. “That’s all I need to know.”

The silence that followed only amplified our connection, the bond between us growing stronger with every passing second.

A minute later, Oliver finally said, “I’ve finished painting your face. Take a peek.”

Turning to the mirror, I was greeted by a romantic masterpiece. Delicate swirls of blue intertwined with soft pink hearts adorned my cheeks, chin, and nose. An intricate pattern mirrored the connection we were both discovering.

“I love it,” I said, admiring the art. “How long can I keep this on my face?”

Oliver’s smile faltered. “Didn’t I tell you? It’s permanent.”

I snorted, then stood. “Very funny.”

“One moment—we need a selfie.” He pulled out his phone and held it in front of us. I smiled, and he took a couple of photos.

As we were exiting the face-painting booth, Oliver pointed to the ride across the way. “I think that right there should be our next adventure. Are you up for it?”

I glanced over at the Tunnel of Love.

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