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At first he appears lost and shocked, making my lips twitch. It’s plain as day that he’s never been around a woman at a time like this. I would find it a whole lot funny if pain wasn’t rising with every breath I take.
“What do you need then?” he asks after a long pause, still looking worried.
I can’t resist placing a soft kiss on his mouth, shocking him into silence, as I whisper, “Sleep but since you’ve woken me up, I’m going to take a shower.”
I swing my legs to the floor from his lap and he reluctantly lets me go while watching me carefully as though I’ll disappear. My heart swoons behind my rib cage that he left his important meeting and came straight for me. No one has ever put me first like he does.
At this rate, he’s going to break down the walls I’ve constructed around my heart.
Or maybe, that’s just my hormones talking. Yep, that must be it.
“I swear I’ll be fine, Dash. Seriously, go back to your meeting,” I call out over my shoulder as I gingerly amble to the bathroom, hoping a shower will provide me much-needed relief.
“Take your shower, kitten.” He sighs. Jeez, and he calls me stubborn.
“Oh god!” I mumble, staring in horror at my reflection in the mirror. My hair looks like a bird’s nest while mascara is smudged around the corners of my eyes. Don’t even ask about my ashen cheeks, the color dull.
And my husband saw me like this. Ugh. So unfair.
Dumping my clothes in the hamper after quickly taking them off, I stand under the shower and sigh in pleasure as the hot water hits my skin. Some of the tension melts from my muscles and I take my time scrubbing my skin. Despite the discomfort, filthy thoughts of Dash’s mouth, his cock, run rampant in my mind, igniting a low throb in my core.
Instead of relieving the ache, I end my shower, dry myself, and put on a bathrobe before I pad outside. I find Dash sitting on the edge of the bed, where I left him, and he looks up at the sound of my footsteps.
His piercing eyes darken in lust at my hidden nakedness but his concern for my health wins as he doesn’t roam his gaze down the length of my body. I notice he has lost his suit jacket, remaining in a white dress shirt, which is plastered to his muscular physique.
Crossing the distance, he massages the back of my neck. “Feeling better?”
“Mmhmm,” I moan, his expert fingers working their magic.
“Have you eaten anything?” My stomach growls in answer and I close my eyes as he chuckles. “Want me to make you a sandwich?”
I make a scrunched-up face at the suggestion. He quirks a brow, his expression soft and adoring.
“Or… I could order you a burger.”
His phone rings, interrupting us as it vibrates against my leg from the inside pocket of his pants. I pull back and tell him, “I’ll order. Why don’t you take the call?”
“Get dressed while I do,” he orders, walking toward the balcony with his phone already attached to his ear.
After changing into my comfy shorts and one of Dash’s T-shirts I’ve been sleeping in every night while he was gone, I head downstairs. There’s a skip in my step at having Dash back home.
The distance has done the exact opposite of what I had hoped.
My phone is in my purse where I left it so pulling it out, I make myself comfy on the couch. The cramps are a dull throb now but if I don’t eat something soon, that’ll change. I quickly open the online food app and scan for my favorite restaurant.
Scrolling down, I click Reorder since I always order the same, only to frown when it comes up empty. My already turbulent mood deflates. I search twice but no, the one chicken burger that I loved is gone. Just like the chicken wings and special chutney they took off their menu a few months ago.
To make matters worse, my cramps skyrocket and I clutch my stomach while bending at the waist. It’s like I’m triggered and the tears I was holding at bay drip down my cheeks. Deep breaths don’t help and I remember I ran out of my pain tablets last month.
Fucking shit.
Dash finds me with my head hanging between my shoulders and I’m pretty sure I’m back to looking like a disgruntled mess. I watch him lower to his knees and rest his palms on my thighs.
“Kitten, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Hiccups lace my voice.
“Is it the pain? Is it always this bad?”
