She was stunned on the spot, hands covering her mouth, looking as though she was in a dream.
"Don't you want to?" Roman turned around, sat in the chair Sanna had previously occupied, placed her on his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and asked in a gentle whisper.
"Don't want to become my chamberlain?"
She leaned against his chest, her keen senses feeling the flow of his breath and the words as he spoke, brushing against her ear.
Those magnetic voices clearly echoed beside her ear, like electric eels zipping through her ears, making her entire body feel a tingling soreness—she probably had astonishingly red cheeks.
Her skin was a healthy wheat color, which now seemed to deepen, reminiscent of walking on the beach under the scorching sun.
Yes!
That was exactly the feeling!
She was enduring the straightforward and passionate favor of the sun, which made her movements somewhat coy and shy.
