Page 44 of Tempting All The Way

“Thank you for saying that, but I do want to help,” she says.

“You being here with me is helping more than anything else ever could,” I tell her, and wrap an arm around her shoulder, pulling her body into mine before kissing the top of her head. “Thank you,” I whisper.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ifeel like there’s a furnace in this bed. Kicking the blanket off me, I stand on shaky legs and quietly walk into the bathroom. I just need a cold shower and maybe some coffee. Xavier is already up. He has a habit of getting up early to work out. It’s a bonus for me, because for the past two weeks of our new relationship status, I’ve had breakfast cooked for me everyday. A girl really could get used to having a boyfriend like Xavier Christianson.

I turn the shower on, and my head spins and my stomach cramps. Crap, I know what’s wrong with me. Stripping my pyjamas off, I realize my self-diagnosis is confirmed. Aunt Flo has decided to pay her monthly visit.

The thing with my cycle is that it’s unpredictable. Some months, I escape with barely a cramp. Others, I’m stuck in bed for three days with the worst body aches and migraines. This month seems to be the latter. I’m going to push through. I’m not requesting any sick days now. I don’t want it to seem like I’m taking advantage because I’m dating the boss. Not that anyone in the office other than the partners and Bentleyknowabout our relationship (even if some suspect something is going on). Or at least I don’t think they know.

After showering, I wrap a towel around me, dig through my toiletry bag, and sigh in relief when I find a full pack of tampons inside. I’m not sure Xavier and I are at that stage in our relationship where I want to send him on errands like that. Swallowing two ibuprofen pills, I get dressed and hope that the pain relief kicks in soon.

I pick up my clothes and head into the laundry room. I don’t think Xavier’s ever actually stepped foot in here. We leave in the morning—dishes in the sink and bed unmade—and return at night to the apartment immaculate again.

I’ve offered to wash the dishes, to clean up after us every morning, but Xavier drags me out, telling me to leave it all. That he has a lot of work to do. Cleaning isn’t exactly one of my favourite pastimes, so I don’t argue with him about leaving the mess.

I toss my clothes into the washing machine, turn it on, and head to the kitchen. I find Xavier at the stove, fully dressed in perfectly fitted navy slacks, a white business shirt, and amatching navy vest. Damn, that man is fine. His ass is sculpted in those pants, firm, round. My hands itch to grab it. If I had the energy…

Instead, I sit on the bar stool at the counter. Xavier turns around with a grin on his face, which fades when his eyes land on me. “What’s wrong?” he asks, closing the distance between us.

“Nothing. It smells amazing in here.” I smile, trying to hide the fact that I’m in agony.

Xavier looks me over from head to toe before settling on my face, his gaze searing into my soul. Nodding his head once, he spins back around, stacking two plates with pancakes. “You want coffee? Juice?” he asks.

“Ah, do you have tea?” I don’t usually drink the stuff, but sometimes chamomile tea helps soothe my stomach.

“Yep, what kind do you want? I’ve got peppermint, English breakfast, earl grey, or chamomile,” he says as he peers into an open cabinet.

“Chamomile, please,” I ask.

Xavier nods his head and boils the kettle. A couple of minutes later, I have a hot cup of chamomile tea—he even added a drop of honey—and a plate full of fluffy pancakes covered in maple syrup.

“You’re spoiling me and making me fat.” I smile around the rim of my cup.

“You’re worth it, and you’re far from fat,” he says, eating his pancakes.

I pick at my breakfast, but as good as it looks and smells, I just can’t stomach it. Thankfully, Xavier doesn’t say anything about my lack of an appetite.

“Do you need anything? Pain killers? Chocolate? Ice cream? You know, if you want to stay in bed today, you can,” he says as he takes the plates and deposits them in the sink.

“What? Why would I want to stay in bed?” Shit, do I look that bad?

“You have your period. It’s okay. You’re entitled to be sick, Shardonnay,” he says so matter-of-factly.

“How do you know that?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“You’ve been holding your stomach, you asked for chamomile tea—which you’ve never asked for before—and you barely ate.”

“And all of that had you coming to the conclusion that I have my period?”

“It was the tea, really. Lucy drinks it every morning when it’s that time of the month too. It’s how I know to stay well and truly clear of her that whole week, because she turns into a fucking monster,” he says.

“Oh, I can… stay at my place tonight. You don’t have to hang around me this week.” I attempt to give him an out.

“Babe, if you want to stay at your place, then I’ll be there too. I don’t care if you grow two heads, develop multiple personalities, or whatever. Nothing is keeping me away from you.” He wraps his arm around me.

I can’t help the tears that start streaming down my face. “How did I get so lucky as to have the world’s best boyfriend?”

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