He took his seat just as his brother entered the room.“Good morning, everyone!” Rikard said with a wide grin, pausing to mess up Rusol’s hair.�...Stop that,” Rusol said, pushing the hand away. He was twenty-two years old, but his brother still treated him like a child.Rikard was everything that Rusol wasn’t. Not just heir to the throne, but also strong, smart, charming, and good at talking to women. Rusol could never decide whether he hated his brother or loved him. Sometimes he thought it might. My heart, working at nearly 300% capacity pounded in my head, pumping blood through my veins like an army’s advancing march, a march leading between my legs where a nice tingly warmth grew to an all-consuming hotness.“Can I s-s-see it,” he stammered, breaking our kiss.“Yes,” I said nodding, I had spent considerable time shaving last night, for the first time, because I’d read on Google that men like women to be hairless. I’d done an okay job I guess, but this morning the area was red with. More

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