Chapter 215 Honeymoon

• Two weeks later, and we still hadn’t learned how to stop touching each other.
• I found myself tracing the ridge of Sargis’s knuckles while pretending to read reports, fingers drifting almost absently until he caught my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm. He would pass behind me on his way to a council briefing and graze my hip with the back of his hand, just enough to send heat chasing up my spine. It was ridiculous, really, like some quiet fever we carried everywhere.
• At breakfast, I’d feel his knee brush mine beneath the table, and my thoughts would scatter like startled birds. The guards politely averted their eyes, the servants pretended to be deaf, but the knowing smiles were impossible to miss.