“I’ve been searching the palace for you.”
Of course he has. Because he ignores my texts. And just to prove that point, since he’s blatantly ignoring me now as he’s done all week, I say, “I sent you a text telling you where we were.”
“I must have missed it.”
“Uh-huh.” A likely story.
“What are you all up to? You’re a mess.”
“They’re covered in a bit of flour, but that will wipe off easily enough.”
He doesn’t even look up or acknowledge me. What would happen if I flashed him? Obviously, I won’t. I’m way classier than that and the children are here. But the idea of rattling his cage a little is even more delicious than these cookies will be.
“A movie night,” Sabrina tells him, jumping up and down. “We’re baking cookies, and after supper, we’re going to makepopcorn and watch a movie. All of us,” she tells him as if he doesn’t have a choice in this. “That means you too, Papa. We’re going to watchShrek. Bellamy says it’s funny.”
And the mother isn’t dead in it the way they are in many other children’s films.
“Hmm.” He glances at me, and I can tell he wants to argue this, but the kids are too excited for him to resist. Zayer starts pulling on his pants, and Sebastian bends down to pick him up and tosses him up in the air once before he catches him. Zayer squeals in delight.
“What will you do when you’re too big for me to pick up?” Sebastian kisses his forehead and rubs his nose against his. I inwardly simper. Zayer nuzzles into him, sucking on his fourth and fifth fingers.
“And we’re going to make chicken fingers and mac and cheese one night for dinner.” Phaedra moves against him and whispers up with her hand cupped over her mouth, “Don’t worry, they’re not real fingers. Bellamy promised us.”
“Chicken fingers and mac and cheese? Cookies? Popcorn? Bellamy seems to be promising all sorts of new things with you.” The king’s stony countenance and glacial eyes meet mine.
Oh boy. That look alone makes my pulse race.
I shrug, folding my arms and leaning my hip against the messy counter, feigning indifference. “Sounds good to me. We thought it might be fun to make a different dish once a week from another country or other regions,” I tell him, refusing to be intimidated. “It will help them learn about the world and other cultures as well as how to cook.”
He grunts. Not much to argue there when you make it educational.
“So do you think Your Majesty can manage some cookies, popcorn, and a movie?”
He crosses the room and stands before me, eyes all over my face. I expect him to say something about my slightlysarcastic tone. Instead, he uses the hand not holding Zayer to wipe away something from my cheek. He pops his finger into his mouth, licking off what is likely cookie dough or chocolate.
My jaw drops and an odd mix between a gasp and a moan slips out.
“Delicious,” he murmurs, his eyes glittering with intensity and something else I can’t name. “I suppose if the cookies taste half as good as that, I won’t have a choice but to eat them.”
It’s the most erotic thing anyone has ever said or done to me. Which I acknowledge is sad, but right now, I don’t care. He’s hardly paid me any attention since that first morning I was here. Nothing all week. Now this? It’s unexpected to say the least.
“Glad to hear that.” That’s all I’ve got. I’ve never learned how to be sexy or seductive. Not that I’m trying with the king.
“Throw you off balance?”
I smile, unable to stop it. “Just a bit. Was that your goal?”
“That was for Monday. I think we’re even now and can move past it.”
“Huh?” My brows furrow until I realize what he just did. He flirted the way I did with him. “Did you just seriously?—”
“Didn’t like it, did you?”
Is he kidding? I loved it.
“No. It was awful. Your touch is like zombie mice crawling on my skin.”
His lips twitch, and I can’t tell in which direction they’re headed, north or south, smirk or frown. “Then you know exactly how it was for me.”
