Everything she wants.
And everything I can think of.
***
The woman at the till smiled like a Cheshire cat the whole time she was scanning the items I picked out for Leilani.
It was weird.
What’s so entertaining about sanitary pads and chocolate?
Beats me, but Leilani has a similar reaction when I drop the shopping bags on the coffee table and kneel beside her.
Amusement tugs at the corners of her kissable lips. And since they’re so kissable, I lean out, catching that pouty mouth with mine. My tongue slips in, curling with hers, the sensation equal parts sedative and adrenaline boost. I groan into the kiss and my blood rushes south. I pull back before my cock hardens. There are more pressing matters.
“Exactly how long do you think a period lasts?” Leilani asks, cocking an eyebrow at the shopping bags. “Because judging by how much you bought, you must think I’ll be on this couch for eighteen months. That’s too much, Koby.”
“It’s not.” I brush a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear before kissing her temple. “How are you feeling? What do you need?”
This is the first time I’ve taken care of a girl going through her period. No long-term relationship, well, any kind of relationship, in my past makes me inexperienced, but thankfully, I’m a fast learner.
“Painkillers,” she admits, struggling to sit up.
I tip out the first bag.
“Wrong one,” I mutter, pushing the boxes I’ve littered the table with aside. “Hold on.”
Leilani whispers something under her breath, too low for me to catch, and then she snorts. Actuallysnortsa sharp, ugly-cute laugh I’ve never heard from her before. I peer up, finding her eyes glassy and lips trembling from holding back a grin.
“What’s so funny?”
“Eleven.” She presses her knuckles to her mouth, trying and failing to smother the laughter “Why would I need eleven boxes of sanitary pads, Koby?”
“I wasn’t sure which ones you liked. Three drops or five? Long or short? Overnight, ultra-thin, super-plus? Wings, no wings, scented—thereit is.” I pluck out a box of Tylenol from the pile of sweets mounding up over the table. “Here, let me get you some water.”
I hand her the box, ignoring how she bites her lip to hold off another bout of laughter. Next time, when I know what she likes, it’ll be easier.
“What’s in the third bag, Koby?” she yells when I disappear with said bag into the kitchen.
I don’t answer right away, too busy working through my prepared list of steps.
Plug in the heating pad, check.
Transfer the store-bought soup into a bowl, check.
Pop it in the microwave, check.
I take a glass of water back to the living room.
“Do I smell soup?” Leilani asks with a straight, innocent face that doesn’t fool me for a second. “Koby. Baby... I’m not sick.”
“Shush. Don’t ruin this for me. Take the pills, stop laughing, and wait here.”
She pretends to zip her mouth and throw away the key but her eyes sparkle like diamonds.
I swear she’s not far off giggly tears.
Whatever.
