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Opening the door to the shower, I grab our towels, drying her off quickly before lifting her up and bringing her out into the bedroom.
Checking to make sure Shiloh moved, I toss her on the bed, crawling on top of her, devouring her lips.
“Ronan, I can’t,” she says, pushing me a little.
I pull back, confused. “Are you okay?”
“I want to, god do I want to,” she tells me, dropping back to the pillow and squeezing her eyes shut.
“It’s going to hurt.”
I roll over next to her, pulling her hip so she’s facing me. “What do you mean it’s going to hurt, Princess?”
She doesn’t open her eyes.
“I’m cramping.”
I don’t say anything. I’ve always heard orgasms help cramps, but maybe that’s just something men say to make themselves feel better about it. I wouldn’t know.
“Are you okay? Is it your period?” I ask finally. I feel like I would have noticed.
She sighs, opening her eyes. “There’s nothing I want more than for you to have me right here, I swear. But I have a chronic disease. The stress of the last couple of days, everything happening, I’ve been cramping since I got here, and today it’s really bad.”
I tip her chin up, my lips landing on hers as my hand grips the back of her neck. Pulling away, I cup her face in my palm again. “You never have to apologize to me, Sydney.”
Her eyes widen, and her throat works in a rough swallow, her lips parting as she looks at mine.
“I’m sorry if I ruined something,” she looks down again.
I force her to look at me once more. “Stop apologizing. You don’t owe me a single thing.” I shake my head, kissing her lips.
“What is it? What can I do to help?”
She sits up, pulling the blanket around her. She’s still cold from the water. “I have endometriosis. I have for a long time. It’s not always an issue, but I flair up when I’m stressed.”
“And you cramp when that happens?”
She nods.
“Is it just the cramps that hurt right now?”
“Yes, but sex makes it worse,” she says quietly, looking away. I hate the amount of shame she has.
“Why didn’t you say anything about your pain before?”
She shrugs. “I don’t want to be a burden, and I don’t want you to be afraid of touching me.”
I pull her down again, hugging her into me. “I may be concerned about you, but I’m not going to treat you like glass unless you want me to. I don’t want you to ever worry about me when it comes to this, do you hear me?” I pull away, looking into her eyes, our noses practically touching.
“Now, what can I do for you?”
She studies my face, her eyes searching mine, but I don’t know what for.
She winces, her hand shooting down to her lower stomach, and I let her sit up.
She looks around the room, sighing. “Can I just take a bath?” she asks, getting up.
“Of course,” I say as I follow her. Except while she goes to find clothes for afterward, I head to the bathroom.
