My mother used to read me romance novels. You know, the ones where the main character would describe their lover's kiss as sensational, like a spark flowing through your entire being. I used to think it was bullshit. I used to. The chills that seared through my veins sparked every inch of my being as Carter's mouth pushed deeper into mine. The kiss at the wedding had not been nearly as spectacular, and maybe it was because I knew that a thousand eyes were pinned on me. I wasn't exactly focused on the magical lips of the Prince. It surprised me, really, how idiotic I was not to notice the passion I felt from him.
Then he pulled back, his eyes meeting mine for a quick glance before he removed his hand and averted his gaze to the sun. I continued staring at the side of my husband's face. The
