“Clearly. So, number one, then?”
“It depends. Is it the real Episode One or Episode Four?”
He frowned. “I don’t know. Which one do you want to start with?”
“It depends. Do you want to watch nine hours of people arguing about trade negotiations or do you want to watch a farm boy discover his destiny?”
“Is this a joke? Trade negotiations?” His brows furrowed. “That sounds dreadful.”
“Episode Four it is, and a very good choice.” She took another bite of cereal and beamed at him. “You’ll love this, trust me.”
***
He did, in fact, enjoy the first three movies. The others, not so much. In fact, he might have dozed off halfway through the first prequel. At some point, he woke up and realized she was asleep, too, the TV droning on about senators and intergalactic trade agreements. He shut the television off, tucked the blankets closer around Taylor, and pulled her against him to sleep.
Today had been a good day. He’d been lazy, granted, and had eaten nothing but pizza and all the terribly sugary snacks that Taylor insisted he try from the minibar, but he’d had fun. Her commentary on the films and her enjoyment bolstered his own enthusiasm, and he looked forward to spending more time with her.
This marriage thing? He had it in the bag. By the end of the week, she’d be eating out of the palm of his hand. Then he could go home and pick up his life again, blissfully throne-free.
***
The next morning, Taylor woke up from some rather filthy dreams, sprawled over the object of her filthy dreams on the couch. Not the worst place in the world to wake up, she mused. Loch lay on the couch with his hands loosely at her waist, and her cheek was pressed against his chest, her injured foot propped up on one arm of the couch. God, this was nice. Her hand smoothed over his broad chest. Injury or not, she wasn’t averse to a little morning nookie. After all, he was spread out in front of her like a darn buffet. A girl could only hold off for so long.
Off in the distance, something vibrated. Her phone, probably. It paused, then vibrated again, the sound angry.
Shit. Was it Monday? She was supposed to be working.
She sat up, detangling her limbs from him slowly. As she did, the worst cramping in her lower abdomen set in, and a horrific realization struck her. Her period was coming on. Ugh. Worst timing ever. Not only was she not home, but she was at a sexy guy’s sexy hotel room and about to have the least sexy week of her life.
Clearly fate hated her.
She got to her feet—and her inflated boot popped under her weight, the sound loud. “Shit!”
On the sofa, Loch sat up. “You all right?”
“I’m good.” Once she found the tampons, that was.
“Here, let me carry you—”
“No!” Taylor all but yelped the word and sprinted for the bathroom. She managed to make it there and locked the door before he could come in, and then rummaged around in the toiletries, looking for “lady” supplies. She should have known. Her period was the worst cockblocker ever.
A week with Loch should have been sexy central. Now it was going to be Crampytime Central. Not only was she injured, she’d be cramping and miserable and unable to have sex with the hottest guy on earth.
“You all right?”
“Fine,” she yelled out. She spotted her bag in the corner and let out a sigh of relief, grabbing it. She kept tampons in a hidden pocket, and they’d last long enough until she could discreetly phone the front desk and ask for someone to send some up.
Then again, maybe this was a sign from God that her legs should stay firmly closed together and she should just take her happy ass home. Even as she thought it, though, she hated the idea. She wanted to stay here. Being around Loch made her feel safe and less stressed. Funny, she hadn’t realized how stressed she was until she’d logged off the computer with him . . . and felt like she could breathe.
She emerged from the bathroom a short time later to see him frowning at the door, arms crossed over his chest. “You all right?”
How to explain to seven feet of beefcake that she was menstrual without totally turning him off? “Fine, but I think I should go home.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re going to be my guest this week. I won’t take no for an answer.”
She bit her lip. She was afraid he’d say that. “I’m just not feeling . . . a hundred percent.”
A look of worry crossed his face. “Do you need to go to the doctor?”
“No! I just . . . need some me time.” And hopefully that “me” time would involve a quick trip down to the gift shop for some Midol and pads.
Loch frowned, but then slowly got up from his perch on one of the tables. “I should probably get my morning jog in—”
“Yes! That’s an excellent idea! You should definitely do that.”
He tilted his head. “You sure you’re all right?” At her over-enthusiastic nod, he headed for the bedroom. “All right, then. I’ll change into my jogging clothes and be back shortly.”
“Fabulous! I’ll be here.”
He nodded then moved toward her. “Let me carry you back to the couch—”
“No!” she yelped. If he did, she was sure to, well, gush. Ugh. “I can make it myself! I’ll just hop!”
“And crack your skull again? I don’t think so.” He moved toward her and she flinched backward. To her relief he paused. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Just not in a touchy-feely mood at the moment.”
“I see. All right. I’ll let you get back there on your own, then, but no hopping.”
“No hopping!” She limped across the bedroom and headed for the couch, hoping he wouldn’t see on her face just how much her stupid ankle was hurting at the moment. She thumped down on the couch and then winced when she realized her phone was across the room, and still vibrating with incoming messages. Crap. Loch was still in the bedroom so she hobble-walked over to retrieve it and her laptop, and then made her way slowly back to the couch.
Loch emerged from the bedroom a few moments later, dressed in jogging pants, a tight gray shirt that made all her tingly girl parts tingle just a little bit more, his shaggy hair pulled back into a man-ponytail. It shouldn’t have looked half as sexy as it did, but damn, he was working it.
Well, that and she was ultra horny thanks to her dang period. God, this was going to be a long week.
He gave her another curious look as he tugged one foot behind him, stretching his hamstrings. “You sure you’re all right?”