Finding My Prince Charming

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I was flipping through my museum guide when I walked into him. It felt like I had walked into a brick wall, and I reached out and grabbed his arms to steady myself. “Sorry,” I muttered and looked up as I apologized.

My legs froze and my stomach did flip-flops as I stared at him. With his dark black hair, sparkling emerald-green eyes, and tall, muscular build, he looked like sex on legs.

“Sorry,” I muttered again and attempted a smile.

He looked back at me with an imperious expression. His eyes connected with mine for one glorious second before he looked at my hands still on his arms.

“Oh, sorry.” I stepped back and removed my hands from his body. My face was a deep shade of red and my fingers felt hot like fire.

“Watch where you’re going,” he said finally, and I stared at his lips in a daze. “Are you okay?” His voice was coarser and deeper this time, and I looked up at him and nodded.

“I’m fine. Sorry,” I mumbled again and blushed. Stop saying sorry, Lola!

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