Page 62 of Sinful Temptations

Cringing, I shook my head. “Just an upset tummy. That’s all.”

He shut the door and sidled up to the bed. “Did you eat something bad?”

“No, nothing like that.”

He touched my forehead, and I just about wept at the comfort in his touch. “You don’t have a fever.”

That surprised me because I felt like a furnace had set up camp in my belly. “I’ll be okay. I just need some rest.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on my thigh. “Right, here’s what I’m going to do. I’ll make sure everyone is okay downstairs, then I’m going to bring you up something small to eat?—”

“I’m fine?—”

“Shush.” He patted my leg, and although he offered a small smile, I didn’t miss the turmoil on his face. “You haven’t been yourself all day. I can see the pain in your eyes.”

My uterus responded with a cramp that could trigger an avalanche. Wincing at the agony, another groan tumbled from my throat. I cursed my body for the millionth time.

“Oh, jeez.” He rubbed my thigh. “Have you had any painkillers?”

I shook my head.

“I’ll track some down.”

I thought a bottle of tequila would do the trick—forty percent alcohol should be enough to dull the throb. And numb myself enough to stop my misinterpretations of Roman’s actions.

“While I’m downstairs, have a hot shower and get into something comfortable.”

“I am comfortable.”

“Get into your pajamas then.”

I groaned.

“That’s an order.”

“Hey.” I dropped my lower lip in an exaggerated sad face. “When did you get so bossy?”

“When I became your wingman. Now do as you’re told. I’ll be back in about thirty minutes, and you don’t want me to catch you in the shower, do you?”

Hmmm, well . . . maybe.Especially if he hopped in with me and rubbed my back like he was doing now.

Stop it, Daisy.

I reluctantly grumbled an okay.

Roman leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “See you soon.”

Once he’d shut the door behind him, I rolled out of bed. Just standing had the throbbing between my legs hitting supersonic proportions. My old woman moniker was appropriate as I waddled hunched over to the bathroom, stripped off, and stepped into the shower. The warm cascade did very little to ease my cramping and the long, hot shower I’d envisaged diminished to a quick five-minute wash.

When I tugged on my cotton, elastic-waisted shorts and the ABBA T-shirt that served as my nightshirt, I cursed myself for not thinking to update my bedroom attire when I purchased my new lingerie. Embarrassment engulfed me as I imagined Roman’s reaction to my frumpy pajamas. Then again, he probably wouldn’t care.

Shaking off the foolishness, I crawled back to bed and tugged the sheet up under my chin.

I was riding out another nauseating cramp when Romanknocked once and pushed the door open. He led his entrance with a bottle of champagne.

My pain slipped to the background of my mind as I pushed higher on my pillow. “Oh, yay.”

“I thought that would cheer you up.” His grin lit my room as he placed the bottle on my side table, along with an ice bucket containing two champagne glasses. “Back in a sec.” He went outside and returned seconds later with a tray topped with two steaming bowls, a basket of bread, cutlery, and napkins. “Now I know you have to be hungry, ’cause you haven’t eaten all day. So, I don’t want to hear otherwise.”

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