Groaning with the pain, I sit up in bed and reach for the tv remote. Sleep is not forthcoming for me tonight. I have a hot water bottle clutched against my stomach and I’ve taken two Advil, but they’re doing little to ease the pain. The cramps I get on the first day of my period are completely debilitating sometimes. It feels like someone is pulling out my insides through my navel with a corkscrew.
My bedroom door is open, and I hear footsteps outside. “You okay in there, Angel?” Conor asks as he pops his head inside.
“Just cramps,” I say. “They’ll go in a few hours or so. I hope.”
“You need some painkillers or something?” he says as he walks into the room and comes to sit on the bed.
“I’ve taken some, but they’re not great for cramps. Usually heat works,” I say as I lift my cover and show him the hot water bottle. “But even this thing doesn’t seem to be helping tonight.”
“Heat?” he asks with a flash of his eyebrows.
“Yes,” I frown at him. Since he and I first had sex a few days ago, we have hardly been able to keep our hands off each other. And if I’m not in his bed, I seem to be with the twins. My period has come just at the right time – an enforced break. Although I doubt a little blood would bother any of them. “Not that kind of heat. I can’t be doing anything like that right now.”
He laughs softly and brushes a strand of hair from my forehead. “I was not suggesting that, Angel. But,” he sucks on his top lip in a way that makes him look completely adorable. “I have something that might help. Give me twenty minutes.”
“I’ll try anything,” I say as another intense cramp fires through my abdomen.
He kisses my forehead and then jumps off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
A short time later, Conor walks back into the room, carrying what looks like a small white towel on a tray. As soon as he steps inside, I’m hit by the most awful smell. It only gets stronger as he walks towards me, and I realize the stench is coming from whatever he has on that tray.
He sits on the bed beside me.
“Jesus, Conor!” I pinch my nostrils between two fingers. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s magic,” he winks at me. “Now lift up your shirt.”
“No way! It stinks!” I protest.
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t be such a baby. Lift it up, Jessie,” he orders.
As another cramp crushes my abdomen from the inside, I reluctantly lift my pajama shirt. He removes the hot water bottle and then he places the towel on my stomach instead. The towel doesn’t feel overly hot to the touch, but I instantly feel the heat from whatever foul-smelling concoction is wrapped inside.
He gently pulls my top back down and sits back with a smile. “You should feel that in a few minutes.”
“What the hell is it?” I ask as I already start to feel the warming effects in my abdomen.
“It’s a secret recipe from the old country. You wouldn’t believe the injuries that stuff has seen us through.”
“Well, I hope it works and I get some sleep, even if I do smell like a skunk who’s taken a bath in a garbage disposal truck.”
“I hope you feel better soon,” he says with a laugh and a kiss on my forehead. “Do you need anything else?”
“You fancy watching a movie with me?” I ask.
“Fuck no, you stink!” he says as he screws his face up in disgust.
I blink at him, and he bursts out laughing. “Aw, Angel, I’m just playing with you. Of course, I’d watch a movie with you, but I have to go to work.”
“You asshole,” I say with a shake of my head.
He stares at me for a second and then he lies down beside me. “I’ve got ten minutes before I have to leave,” he says softly as he wraps one of his huge arms around me.
“You sure you can handle the stink that long?” I nudge him in the ribs.
“Yes. You know I’d still fuck you no matter how bad you smell, right?” he chuckles.
“God, you’re such a smooth talker, Conor Ryan.”
“Hmm, I know. It’s the Irish genes.”
The following morning, I wander into the kitchen looking for Conor. Whatever he made me last night worked miracles, and I slept all night with no cramping. But this morning, my stomach feels like it’s in a concrete mixer again and Conor’s magic, stinky medicine has lost its healing powers.
Shane is in the kitchen drinking coffee when I walk into the room.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning, Hacker.”
“Is Conor around?”
Unable to hide his disdain, he rolls his eyes. “He didn’t get in until five. He’s asleep.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Shane must see the disappointment on my face. “Give him a few hours and I’m sure he’ll be awake, and you can fuck each other’s brains out,” he smirks at me.
“That is not why I’m looking for him,” I snap and just as I do, a cramp squeezes my abdomen like a pair of hands twisting my intestines, making me wince.
“You okay?” Shane asks, suddenly with a hint of concern in his voice.
“Fine. Just cramps, that’s all. Conor made me this foul-smelling stuff last night, and it really helped. I was just wondering if he could make me one, or show me how to? I’ll just take some Advil instead.”
Shane stares at me, and then he sighs loudly. “Go back to bed, and I’ll bring some in.”
“I can get them,” I start to say, but he is up off his chair.
“Does it hurt?” he snaps.
“Yes!” I snap back.
“Then go the fuck back to bed and I’ll get what you need,” he says as he points towards the door.
“You’re so bossy sometimes,” I snipe like a sulky teenager.
“You have no idea.”
It’s been over twenty minutes since Shane ordered me back to bed and I’m beginning to wonder if he’s forgotten about bringing me some Advil. As I’m about to go back to the kitchen and get some for myself, he appears in the doorway – complete with tray and white towel. The smell isn’t as offensive as it was last night, and I wonder if it’s because I’ve got used to it, or because Shane doesn’t know how to make it properly.
He walks over to the bed and places the tray down. “Lift your shirt,” he says as he picks up the white towel filled with the healing poultice.
“I didn’t realize you knew how to make this too?” I say as I open the buttons of my shirt and lift it to expose my midriff.
“Of course I can. Who do you think Conor learned it from?” he frowns.
He places the towel on my stomach and presses lightly. His fingers brush over my skin as he positions the fabric correctly, and I experience that familiar fluttering in my abdomen. There is no doubt that Shane Ryan is hotter than hell itself, but his general moodiness ensures that I’m always kept at arm’s length. I’ve never seen this caring, nurturing side of him before, though, and I’m not sure I like it. I know exactly where I stand with asshole Shane. This one makes me feel things I don’t want to – not about him, anyway.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I lift my hands to fix my clothes, but he is already pulling down my shirt and fastening the buttons with his deft fingers. I can’t stop the image of him unbuttoning my clothes instead from popping into my head and it makes me clench my thighs together to stop the throbbing sensation that is starting.
“You’re welcome,” he says smoothly in that low gravelly voice he has, which does nothing to quell my growing need. He picks up the TV remote and flicks it on and I swallow.
Dear God, please don’t let him offer to sit in here with me. I couldn’t take it! Before I can protest, he hands me the remote. “The twins told me you love watching TV in bed?” he says as he picks up the now empty tray. “Get some rest today, Hacker. I have a job for you tomorrow.” He flashes one eyebrow at me and then he disappears out of the door.
