“I really enjoyed it,” I admit.
“Hopefully coffee shop guy sees pictures of us together and that gets the ball rolling.”
“You mean get the donut rolling,” I correct.
He blinks. “What?”
“Get the donut rolling. You know…it’s a coffee shop and they sell donuts and donuts are round? There’s no balls there.”
He stares at me for a long beat, brow furrowing, like I’ve lost my marbles. “I’ve really kept you up too late, haven’t I?”
“Oh my God.” I grab a pillow and toss it at him. He catches it easily, laughing. “That was funny,” I insist.
“Sure, whatever you say. But I think you should stick to hard hitting news stories, Rapunzel. I don’t quite think you’re ready for cartoon editorials.” He tosses the pillow back onto the bed and jerks his chin toward the bathroom. “Spare toothbrush is in the top right drawer. Sleep well in your tower.”
I grin. “Night, prince.”
He snorts, shaking his head as he walks out. My eyes follow, taking in broad shoulders, his easy stride, the faintest glimpse of a smile before the door clicks shut.
I turn back to the fire, feeling a new kind of warmth settle in. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s him. Either way, it’s dangerous.
I take the last sip from my glass and set it on the nightstand before heading into the bathroom. His bathroom is ridiculous, and speaking of marbles. There’s marble everywhere, and a shower with so many buttons I’d need a degree in engineering just to rinse my hair. Should I?
“Maybe tomorrow,” I whisper, laughing softly to myself.
Back in the bedroom, the fatigue hits hard. I strip out of my clothes and pull on his sweats and T-shirt. They’re soft and oversized, and they smell like him: clean, fresh, a little woodsy.
I set my phone alarm and put it on the nightstand. When I crawl into his bed, that same scent lingers on the sheets—pure Jaxon—and I swear it wraps around me tighter than any blanket ever could.
I close my eyes, and the soft hum of the wind outside lulls me under. The fire’s glow fades behind my eyelids, and the scent of Jaxon on the sheets seeps into my dreams, warm, safe, comforting. Somewhere in the night, the wind howls louder, rattling the windowpanes, but it only pulls me deeper into sleep.
A sound wakes me later, a low groan, the kind that doesn’t quite fit with the creak of old wood or the sigh of the furnace. My lashes flutter open. For a moment, I’m disoriented, the ceiling too high, the sheets too soft, the air too heavy with something that isn’t mine. Then it hits me: Jaxon’s room. Right. The fireplace. The wine. The teasing. I close my eyes again, smiling faintly. The wind picks up, brushing against the glass, a soothing whisper that calms my soul.
Until my alarm goes off.
I groan and roll to silence it, but something feels… strange. There’s a tug, a pull toward the middle of the bed, like gravity itself has shifted. My brow furrows. I blink into the pale morning light.
And that’s when I see him.
Jaxon.
Staring at me.
His eyes are wide, his expression somewhere between shock and terror, as if he’s not sure whether to bolt or apologize to the universe.
“Jaxon,” I breathe, voice barely there.
He doesn’t answer, just blinks like maybe if he stays still enough, this will all go away.
I push myself up, and the blankets slip from my shoulders. The sound he makes, a low, strangled groan that sends every nerve in my body on high alert, does not help.
Oh God.
Oh dear God.
It was hot last night, wasn’t it? I remember tossing and turning, kicking off the covers…
Please tell me I’m not?—