Page 129 of Hard to Resist

“Kinda. I got something to make you feel better.”

“Unless it’s a shovel to magically dig out my uterus, I don’t want it.”

She pads over, sitting on the arm of the couch as she rakes her nails along the crown of my head, smoothing out my hair. She tucks a few stray tendrils behind my ears. I flinch when she even goes so far as to wipe her thumb under my eye.

“What are you doing?”

“You had a mascara smudge. I thought I told you that you always need to bake under your eyes if you’re going to put mascara on your bottom lashes.”

“You should be glad I even bothered with mascara today. I barely managed to lug my body into the office.”

My patience was thin all day—even Anne didn’t bug me about some follow-ups for Frankie’s final designs. We are getting close to closing out the project, which is all any of us wants.

There is a short rap at the door. Hannah bounces up, almost running to answer it. I pause the TV and uncurl my body as much as I can, trying to push aside the sharp pains as I crane my neck to see who it might be.

“Come in, come in. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” The masculine voice instantly sets me on edge.

“She’s on the couch.”

The hair on the back of my neck rises, my gut alerting me that something incredibly fishy is in the works.

Sure enough, that intuition is confirmed.

“Cullen?” I practically roll off the couch in panic. My knees hit the floorboards, and I let out a yelp. My eyes instantly prick with tears. I definitely just bruised them again.

I am quickly swept up into strong arms and placed back on the worn-out couch.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Cullen strokes my head, sincere eyes scanning me from head to toe. It soothes some of that anxiety away, forcing a sense of calm.

“What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t seem well this morning. I reached out to Hannah about it, and she let me know what was going on.”

Now I know why she took the time to tidy up my appearance. Not that it is going to do me a lot of good as I sit here in a ratty old college T-shirt and oversized sleep shorts, feeling like death.

Cullen, on the other hand, looks like a snack. He is a little more casual than normal in a pair of dark pants and a short-sleeved shirt. The weather has been warming up lately, and the free show I am getting from his biceps isn’t something I’d complain about.

Cullen holds up three large plastic bags, removing various goodies from within.

“I went to that ice cream place and got a pint of the pistachio mint flavor you love, fresh donuts from Chloe’s shop, takeout from the dumpling restaurant on Third, electrolytes, and an electronic foot massager.”

“I’m sorry, what was that last thing?”

“An electronic foot massager.” He begins unboxing the device, and I just stare at him, completely dumbfounded. “Chlo got our parents one for Christmas last year, and they swear by it.”

“That’s sweet, but how does a foot massager help with menstrual cramps?”

He pauses for a second, the gears turning in his mind. “Hannah said it was a good idea, that it would help. Is that not the case? I can return it if you want.”

“No!” Hannah practically pounces for the box. “We want it.” My roommate then reaches a tentative hand out to the plastic bag holding the ice cream. “Did you get my honeycomb flavor?”

“Yeah, it’s in there.”

I quirk a brow at Hannah. “I’m beginning to think you invited my boyfriend over to exploit him.”

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