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    Summary

    All bastards are wicked.
    Jacaerys tries to keep his wicked thoughts about his betrothed to himself. She doesn't allow him.


    “Your wicked thoughts,” Baela whispered. “Were they just my shoulders?”
    She leaned close to him, so sweet when she kissed his cheek it made him forget any words but her name.
    His mouth felt stupidly dry as he tried to process her question.
    “Your… shoulders?”
    Baela nodded, heavily-lidded, and his eyes traced down to her parted lips.
    “My collarbones,” she reminded him of his words. “My lips. Are they all?"

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    Chapters:
    1/1
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