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Okay, not exactly a ringing endorsement on my presence but I’ll take it.

We watch TV then. I sense she’s not in the mood for chatter so I don’t try to initiate conversation. I just watch quietly until the end credits roll ten minutes later and the door intercom rings. I rise to buzz the delivery guy up, greeting him when he arrives and relieving him of the brown paper back carrying emergency period chocolate.

When I return to the couch, Holly has already hauled herself upright, her back to the arm of the couch, her legs thrust out in front of her. She has the duvet more loosely draped, unwrapping it from around her head and allowing her arms out. The television has been turned down so it’s now only a low murmur.

She makes grabby hands at me and I chuckle as I hand the bag over. Opening it, she thrusts her face into the bag and inhales deeply. ‘Oh God.’ She groans as she glances up at me. ‘Just the smell is enough to make me feel better.’

‘Good to know.’

I resume my seat at the end of the couch and enjoy the show of Holly ripping into the wrapper around the block of chocolate – one of three I ordered – snapping off two rows and crunching them down like they were carrots sticks instead of somethingthat is usually savoured. She snaps off two more before she seems to remember that I am also in the room.

‘Want some?’ she asks around her next mouthful.

I shake my head, bemused. ‘I’m good, thanks.’ I couldn’t possibly deprive her.

She smiles so big at me it’s like someone has turned on the light. Clearly that was the right answer. Once those two rows are gone, she delves into the bag again and hauls out a plastic container with a half dozen brownies. Ripping off the lid, she helps herself to one, her teeth sinking into the square, and the noise she makes at the back of her throat and the way her eyes shut is exactly the way they shut when I made her come in the elevator.

Like she’s experiencing next-level ecstasy, and hell if I don’t feel that right down to my throbbing balls. Who knew watching a woman inhale chocolate-based food like it was an Olympic sport was such a turn on?

‘This is so freaking good,’ she says, her eyes opening and finding mine, her voice muffled as she tries to chew, swallow and speak. ‘You really should try this.’

Again, I decline. I’d rather watch her, listen to those appreciative noises spilling from lips coated with crumbs. ‘I’m enjoying the show.’

She rolls her eyes at me but doesn’t stop eating until three brownies have disappeared. It’s barely been ten minutes since I handed the bag over but it appears she’s finally indulged in enough chocolate to satisfy the dictates of her hormones.

Shoving one hand on her stomach just above the hot water bottle, she grabs a tissue from the box and wipes at her mouth before tossing it on the table to join the others. Sighing contently, she scooches back down, her head propped on the arm, her legs extended, her feet, which now peek out of the end of the duvet, once again almost touching my thigh.

I quirk an eyebrow. ‘Good?’

Another sigh. ‘So good.’

‘Better?’

‘Much.’ She smiles. ‘Thank you. You’re really good at providing food.’

Hell, yeah I am. And I want that to continue. ‘You know what else I’m really good at? Not,’ I add quickly when I realise that sentence could be misconstrued, ‘sex.’

What kind of a dude could witness Holly’s current state and think,I know what she wants – some dick banging around in there.

Her mouth quirks up at one side. ‘Although you are really good at that.’

I grin. Hell fucking yeah I am. Her compliment goes straight to my head – both of them – but I’m not dumb enough to think that’s some kind of invitation. I have zero issues with period sex, it’s just not the vibe she’s putting out right now.

‘I give a really great foot massage, too.’

She half laughs. ‘Of course you do. Danny Colton, fairy godmother.’

I groan this time in a fake horrified manner, like she’s insulted my manhood. That sounds depressingly platonic. ‘Thank you. I think?’ I glance at her socked feet. ‘Shall I?’

‘You have to now. You can’t boast about your prowess and not follow through.’

She’s right. I cannot. Nor do I have any intention of not following through.

Grinning, I pull off the sock on the left foot and move my ass a little closer so her heel rests on top of my thigh. She places the other foot flat to the floor and I ignore how it opens her legs. With the duvet covering most of her lower half, it’s not like she’s flashing me.

Placing one hand on the sole of her foot, one hand on the top, I stroke from toes to heel and back up again, using firm, even pressure.

‘Oh dear Lord.’ Her eyes flutter closed and she lets out a long, slow exhale, which tells me all I need to know about her state of bliss. ‘I think every woman should have a Danny when she’s on her period.’