She brightened. “Cereal would be awesome.”
He got up and picked through the supplies that had been dropped off, found cereal, a bowl, and grabbed milk from the minibar. Once she was set up with her breakfast, he moved back to the bags of stuff, looking for something for himself since he wasn’t a fan of that sugary marshmallow mess she enjoyed.
“So what else do you have there?” she asked between bites. “Anything entertaining for today?”
He picked through the contents. “A few computer games, some DVDs, and a few items from the gift shop downstairs. I’m not sure why they thought I’d need a Statue of Liberty hat but I suppose it’s thoughtful.” At her giggle, he glanced back at her, grinning. “Want to watch a movie?”
“Sure. What do we have?”
“I told them that you liked science fiction and fantasy and it looks as if they sent us several Star Wars movies.”
“Oooh. Want to watch the original trilogy or the prequel? Which one’s your favorite?”
Loch shrugged. “Don’t recall seeing either.”
“Shut the front door! You’re from Europe, not Mars, you crazy man. How is it you’ve never seen a Star Wars movie?” Her eyes were wide. “You’re not human, are you? You’re a sexy space prince sent here to conquer Earth, and that’s how you’ve never seen a Star Wars movie. It’s the only logical conclusion.”
“Clearly. So, number one, then?”
“It depends. Is it the real Episode One or Episode Four?”
He frowned. “I don’t know. Which one do you want to start with?”
“It depends. Do you want to watch nine hours of people arguing about trade negotiations or do you want to watch a farm boy discover his destiny?”
“Is this a joke? Trade negotiations?” His brows furrowed. “That sounds dreadful.”
“Episode Four it is, and a very good choice.” She took another bite of cereal and beamed at him. “You’ll love this, trust me.”
***
He did, in fact, enjoy the first three movies. The others, not so much. In fact, he might have dozed off halfway through the first prequel. At some point, he woke up and realized she was asleep, too, the TV droning on about senators and intergalactic trade agreements. He shut the television off, tucked the blankets closer around Taylor, and pulled her against him to sleep.
Today had been a good day. He’d been lazy, granted, and had eaten nothing but pizza and all the terribly sugary snacks that Taylor insisted he try from the minibar, but he’d had fun. Her commentary on the films and her enjoyment bolstered his own enthusiasm, and he looked forward to spending more time with her.
This marriage thing? He had it in the bag. By the end of the week, she’d be eating out of the palm of his hand. Then he could go home and pick up his life again, blissfully throne-free.
***
The next morning, Taylor woke up from some rather filthy dreams, sprawled over the object of her filthy dreams on the couch. Not the worst place in the world to wake up, she mused. Loch lay on the couch with his hands loosely at her waist, and her cheek was pressed against his chest, her injured foot propped up on one arm of the couch. God, this was nice. Her hand smoothed over his broad chest. Injury or not, she wasn’t averse to a little morning nookie. After all, he was spread out in front of her like a darn buffet. A girl could only hold off for so long.
Off in the distance, something vibrated. Her phone, probably. It paused, then vibrated again, the sound angry.
Shit. Was it Monday? She was supposed to be working.
She sat up, detangling her limbs from him slowly. As she did, the worst cramping in her lower abdomen set in, and a horrific realization struck her. Her period was coming on. Ugh. Worst timing ever. Not only was she not home, but she was at a sexy guy’s sexy hotel room and about to have the least sexy week of her life.
Clearly fate hated her.
She got to her feet—and her inflated boot popped under her weight, the sound loud. “Shit!”
On the sofa, Loch sat up. “You all right?”
“I’m good.” Once she found the tampons, that was.
“Here, let me carry you—”
“No!” Taylor all but yelped the word and sprinted for the bathroom. She managed to make it there and locked the door before he could come in, and then rummaged around in the toiletries, looking for “lady” supplies. She should have known. Her period was the worst cockblocker ever.
A week with Loch should have been sexy central. Now it was going to be Crampytime Central. Not only was she injured, she’d be cramping and miserable and unable to have sex with the hottest guy on earth.
“You all right?”
“Fine,” she yelled out. She spotted her bag in the corner and let out a sigh of relief, grabbing it. She kept tampons in a hidden pocket, and they’d last long enough until she could discreetly phone the front desk and ask for someone to send some up.
Then again, maybe this was a sign from God that her legs should stay firmly closed together and she should just take her happy ass home. Even as she thought it, though, she hated the idea. She wanted to stay here. Being around Loch made her feel safe and less stressed. Funny, she hadn’t realized how stressed she was until she’d logged off the computer with him . . . and felt like she could breathe.
She emerged from the bathroom a short time later to see him frowning at the door, arms crossed over his chest. “You all right?”
How to explain to seven feet of beefcake that she was menstrual without totally turning him off? “Fine, but I think I should go home.”