Page 178 of Diego

She remains exactly where she is for several seconds. I didn't quite manage what I wanted to accomplish, and I really hope I get away unnoticed.

Maybe if I can slip out of bed before she—

She stills.

I close my eyes. “Be kind.”

“I didn't say anything,” she says carefully. But there's no mistaking the amusement in it.

“You don't have to.”

There’s a pause, and then she presses back against me, just enough to feel what she’s dealing with, presumably, and my breath catches. “Well. Good morning to you, too.”

“Cara,” I warn. Well, I try to warn anyway, but it comes out more like a groan.

There's a barely suppressed laugh in her voice when she says, "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to—"

"No pity, either. It's worse." I shift again, trying to find some relief from the friction.

"You don't have to be embarrassed. It's just biology," she says.

"I am not embarrassed," I say, a bit primly for a man in my current situation. "I am being respectful of doctor's orders. There is a difference."

"Oh. So you're being a martyr," she says, but she finally, mercifully rolls away from me, giving me some space.

Though I'm not sure I'm any happier about that situation.

She rolls in my arms until she is facing me, which actually ends up making it worse. Now her thighs are aligned with mine, and her stomach rests close enough to the problem that I have to actively stop myself from moving against her.

She clears her throat a little. “Has this been a regular problem?”

I stare at the ceiling again. “Recently.”

Her smile widens.

“There is nothing funny about this.”

“There is a little.”

“There absolutely is not.”

“I'll sleep in the guest room, Diego,” she says.

My eyes whip to her. “Absolutely not,” I say firmly.

“No, really,” she says. “I'm feeling a lot better now. You don't have to watch me every second.”

“I said no,” I say. “You are not moving to another room because I wake up hard. I’ll survive.”

Her brows rise slightly at the force of my answer, and I realize I may have revealed more than intended.

The truth is, the erection is inconvenient. Waking up with Blair beside me is worth the discomfort.

I like reaching for her in the middle of the night and finding her there. I like the sleepy little sounds she makes when she shifts closer. I like opening my eyes in the morning and realizing sometime during the night she has tangled herself around me again. Giving that up for the sake of avoiding a little sexual frustration holds absolutely no appeal.

“I want you here,” I add, quieter this time. “The rest is my problem.”

Something in her expression softens. “Okay.”