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“But I won’t,” I say too close to her lips. “After all, I wouldn’t want my balls to end up on your shelf.” The angry clench of her jaw makes me smile, wondering if she’s angrier at my teasing or the fact that she banned me from kissing her when she clearly wants it.
“I don’t actually have a trophy shelf, you know.” She raises a brow. “So, you’re probably safe.”
“Is that an invite,rainha?” I smirk.
“No,” she snaps but she doesn’t attempt to move out of my hold.
I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly. I’ve never wanted to kiss someone, period. Not wanting to show my hand though, I twist to kiss her cheek, softly but lingering. “You just let me know if that changes,rainha.”
17
ANNIKA
"Are you a princess?” Keeley asks me, half-chewed beef rolling around in her open mouth. I swallow back the moisture filling my mouth and the nausea that comes with it. There are grease stained paper wrappers all over the kitchen island. The smell of fried potatoes and battered onions stealing any appetite I might have had.
“No,” I answer, trying not to let the disgust I have for the food in front of me show on my face. “Why do you ask that?”
“You have a big house.” She shrugs like that should be obvious. That only royalty would have mansions.
“Annika is a queen, princesa.” Harvey grabs a chicken wing smothered in some garlicky smelling sauce and sucks the meat off in one.
Keeley’s eyes widen as she looks at me. “You’re the Queen?”
“No,” I say, glaring at Harvey. But he just chuckles as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.
“Is princesa like princess?” Keeley asks him.
“That’s exactly what that means.” He smiles at her.
“In what language?” Mabel asks before crunching down on an onion ring, grease oozing out over her lips, the sight of which making my stomach roll.
“Portuguese,” Harvey tells her.
“You’re from Portugal?”
“Brazil.”
“You think I’m a princess?” Keeley asks him, an innocent hope in her eyes that makes me smile despite myself.
“Hmm.” He regards her thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Spin around.”
She jumps down from the barstool and spins around, holding her arms out.
“You know, I think she might just be a princess, Harv,” Stuart says, watching the little girl dizzying herself.
“I think you’re right. It’s official, we have a princess in our midst,” Harvey declares, Keeley stops spinning, swaying slightly on her feet and giggling.
Mabel smiles at her sister. “Definitely a princess.”
Keeley looks at me, waiting for me to confirm. I’m no good at this pandering to childlike fantasies and I panic I’ll say the wrong thing, so I attempt a smile and nod at her.
“We may have watched a few too many princess movies today,” Guinevere says, delicately picking a French fry from the huge pile of them in the middle of the island and popping it in her mouth.
“Can we watch them again tomorrow?” Keeley asks, climbing back on her stool.
“If you’d like,” Guinevere says with a shrug.
“Yes please.” Keeley nods emphatically and takes another huge bite of her burger. “I want to be a princess for real one day.” Food flies from her mouth as she speaks.
