Page 191 of Kai
I nearly choke on my champagne.
“Sabrina!”
“What?”
“It's too soon.”
She snorts.
“Tell that to the look on your face.”
Before I can argue—the room shifts.
Not literally.
But somehow I feel it.
Like the atmosphere changes.
Like my body recognizes him before my brain catches up.
And then I see him.
Oh.
My.
God.
It’s Kai—but not like I’ve ever seen him.
Black tuxedo.
White shirt.
No tie because apparently rules are merely suggestions to Kai Montego.
The top button undone.
And thank heavens for that because I can still see the dark ink of his tattoos peeking above his collar.
His hair is slightly messy.
His shoulders are broad enough to block out half the room.
And Christ.
He's beautiful.
Not pretty.
Not handsome.
Beautiful.
The kind of masculine perfection women write songs about.
The kind of man who looks like sin wrapped in expensive fabric.
