*Rapunzel*
When the door swings open, I freeze, instinctively clamping my knees together. Horace stands in the doorway, light falling over his shoulder, talking to someone out of sight.
I sit up in bed. “Horace.”
“Yes?” He turns, and for a moment the heat pulses again because he is so beautiful. A lock of hair falls over his brow, and his cheekbones give him the look of a Spanish conquistador.
“I am sleeping, or rather, I was sleeping.”
His brows fly together, and I can practically see him formulating another rule: ‘Don’t wake my wife.’
“I don’t mind if you enter my room, but I’d prefer that you conclude your conversation before doing so.”
He nods with his usual decisiveness. I slip back down under the covers while he steps into the hallway to finish his conversation. I have that r
