It was as if the baby was asking Remington what it would take to get Lizetta to wake up and play.
Remington patted the boy's diapered bottom. "You have to kiss the princess to wake her up. Let me show you."
The man leaned over, his warm breath fanning across Lizetta's cheek.
Her eyelashes fluttered. She hadn't dared open her eyes immediately, terrified that Stella might have doubled back or was spying through the crack in the door.
Feeling his breath draw near, a soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she waited quietly.
But even though he was right there, the kiss never came.
Her eyelashes fluttered more frantically; the anticipation was pure torture.
Finally, utterly confused, Lizetta snapped her eyes open and glared at him.
But the very second her eyes opened, Remington—whose face was mere inches away—captured her lips in a deep kiss.
Lizetta blinked, leaving her eyes wide open.
Seeing her awake, Ron's big eyes lit up. He wiggled excitedly in Remington's arms, clapping his tiny hands.
Because of their little audience, the kiss ended before it could deepen.
Lizetta shot the man a playful glare. "Didn't you say the princess needed a kiss to wake up?"
He was completely messing with her.
Remington's gaze was dark and intense as he looked at her.
"Yes, but after kissing her over and over again without her waking up, the prince is heartbroken and is starting to get a complex."
Lizetta paused, slightly taken aback. She hadn't expected that answer.
She thought he was just teasing her.
But thinking back to her two full days of unconsciousness—how he must have kissed her time and time again, desperately waiting for a response, only to be met with soul-crushing silence—her heart ached.

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