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The hotel room door clicked shut behind us like a trap snapping closed.
I dropped my bag on the carpet and stared at the single king bed dominating the center of the space. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the glittering Manhattan skyline, but the view might as well have been a brick wall. All I could see was that bed and the man standing too close behind me.
Kael Voss. My rival for the past three years. The arrogant bastard who'd undercut my last three pitches, stolen two clients, and once called me "predictably ambitious" in front of our entire department. Now, thanks to a freak snowstorm grounding every flight out of JFK and the company's overbooked conference block, we were stuck sharing this room for the night.
"Forced proximity," he'd muttered when the front desk handed us the single key card. "How poetic."
I spun on him. "You can take the floor."
He raised one dark eyebrow, lips curving in that infuriating half-smirk. "Generous. But I'm six-three. The carpet won't accommodate me."
"Then sleep in the bathtub."
"Charming." He stepped past me, shrugging off his coat and tossing it over the desk chair. Underneath, his black dress shirt clung to broad shoulders and a lean torso I'd pretended not to notice during too many tense boardroom standoffs. "We can be adults about this. One night. We stay on our sides. No touching."
I crossed my arms. "I don't trust you not to hog the blankets."
"I don't trust you not to push me off the edge in my sleep." He met my glare evenly. "But we're both exhausted, and arguing won't make another bed appear."
He had a point. My heels were killing me, my head throbbed from the delayed flight, and—worst of all—a familiar dull ache had started low in my abdomen during the cab ride. My period. Right on schedule to make everything worse.
I grabbed my toiletry bag and headed for the bathroom. "Fine. But if you snore, I will smother you with a pillow."
"Noted."
I locked the door, changed into soft sleep shorts and an oversized T-shirt, and tried to ignore how my stomach was already twisting. Ibuprofen. I needed ibuprofen. But I'd left the bottle in my checked luggage—now lost somewhere in airport limbo.
When I emerged, Kael had dimmed the lights and was sitting on the edge of the bed in gray sweatpants and a fitted black tee. He looked up from his phone, eyes flicking over me once—quick, but not quick enough to miss.
I climbed onto the far side, pulling the covers up like armor. "Stay over there."
"Wouldn't dream of crossing enemy lines."
We lay in tense silence. The city lights flickered through the curtains. My cramps worsened with every passing minute, sharp waves that made me curl tighter into myself. I pressed a hand to my lower belly, breathing shallowly.
After maybe twenty minutes, another cramp hit hard. I couldn't hold back the small whimper that escaped.
Kael shifted. "You okay?"
"Fine," I lied through clenched teeth.
Another cramp. I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper.
He sighed. "You're not fine. What's wrong?"
"Nothing you need to worry about."
"Period?"
I froze. How the hell did he—
"You winced in the elevator earlier," he said quietly. "And you've been holding your stomach since we got here. I have sisters. I know the signs."
Heat flooded my face. "It's none of your business."
"Maybe not." He paused. "But you're in pain. And we're stuck here. If there's something I can do—"
"There's nothing." I turned away, facing the window. The pain pulsed deeper, making my thighs tense.
Silence stretched. Then his voice, lower, closer—he'd shifted toward the middle of the bed.
"You know what helps with cramps?"
I didn't answer.
He waited a beat. "Orgasm. Releases endorphins. Relaxes the uterine muscles. Some studies say it can cut the pain in half."
My breath caught. I whipped around to face him. In the dim light, his expression was serious—no smirk, no mockery.
"You're joking."
"I'm not." He held my gaze. "I'm not trying to be a creep. Just... stating a fact. If you wanted relief and didn't want to be alone with it, I could help."
My heart slammed against my ribs. This was Kael Voss. The man I'd spent years hating. The man who'd once emailed me at 2 a.m. just to point out a typo in my proposal.
And yet here he was, offering.
"You're insane," I whispered.
"Maybe." His voice dropped. "But I'm also right here. And I know how bad it can get."
Another cramp rolled through me. I hissed softly.
His hand hovered near my arm—not touching. "Say no and I'll back off. Pretend I never said anything. But if yes... we can keep it simple. No strings. Just relief."
I searched his face. No triumph. No gloating. Just steady patience.
The pain decided for me.
"Fine," I breathed. "But if you make this weird—"
"I won't."
He moved slowly, giving me time to change my mind. When I didn't, he closed the distance, settling behind me so my back pressed to his chest. Spooning. The heat of him seeped through my clothes instantly.
His arm draped over my waist, hand splaying gently over my lower stomach. No pressure—just warmth.
"Breathe," he murmured against my ear. "Relax into it."
I tried. His palm radiated heat, soothing the ache almost immediately. Or maybe it was the solid wall of him at my back. The scent of his skin—clean soap and something darker, masculine.
He didn't rush. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles over my shirt, gradually dipping lower, skimming the waistband of my shorts.
"Tell me to stop anytime," he said.
I nodded.
He slipped beneath the fabric. No underwear tonight—thank god for small mercies. His fingers found me slick already, whether from arousal or my period, I didn't care. He groaned softly against my neck.
"God, you're wet."
"Shut up," I muttered, but there was no heat in it.
He circled my clit with featherlight touches, teasing, building slowly. Every stroke sent sparks through the pain, dulling it. I arched back into him instinctively.
"That's it," he whispered. "Let it feel good."
His other arm slid under my neck, cradling me while his fingers worked magic. He dipped lower, pressing one finger inside me—slow, careful. Then two. The stretch was perfect. He curled them, finding that spot that made my toes curl.
I moaned—quiet, but real.
He kissed the side of my neck. "You sound so fucking pretty when you're not yelling at me."
"Don't ruin it."
He chuckled low. "Wouldn't dream of it."
He kept the rhythm steady, building me up without pushing too fast. My hips rocked against his hand, chasing the pressure. The cramps faded to background noise, replaced by liquid heat.
When I started trembling, he pressed his thumb to my clit and rubbed in tight circles.
"Come for me," he breathed. "Let go."
I shattered. Quietly—teeth in my lip, body shaking against his. Waves of pleasure crashed through me, washing the last of the pain away.
He held me through it, fingers slowing but not stopping until I went limp.
We stayed like that, breathing hard. His erection pressed against my ass through his sweats—he was rock hard—but he made no move to push for more.
After a minute, I turned in his arms. Our faces were inches apart.
"Your turn?" I asked, voice hoarse.
He shook his head. "Tonight was about you."
I slid my hand down his chest, under his waistband. He hissed when I wrapped around him—thick, hot, throbbing.
"Let me," I said.
He didn't argue.
I stroked him slowly at first, then firmer. He buried his face in my neck, hips jerking. When he came, it was with a muffled groan against my skin, spilling over my hand.
We cleaned up in silence. When we slid back under the covers, he pulled me close again—this time front to front.
"Still enemies?" he murmured.
I rested my forehead against his chest. "Maybe not tonight."
He kissed the top of my head. "Good enough."
The city lights kept watch as we drifted off, tangled together. The storm outside raged on, but inside the room, something had shifted.
And for once, I didn't mind being stuck with Kael Voss.
Morning came too soon. Sunlight sliced through the curtains. I woke to his arm still around me, his steady breathing against my hair.
The cramps were gone. Completely.
He stirred, eyes opening slowly. For a second, neither of us moved.
Then he smiled—small, real. "Feeling better?"
I nodded. "Yeah. A lot."
"Good."
I hesitated. "Last night... doesn't mean anything has to change at work."
He traced a finger along my jaw. "It can mean whatever we want it to."
I searched his face. No games. No agenda.
"Maybe," I said softly, "we figure it out after coffee."
He grinned. "Deal."
We got up. Shared the bathroom sink while brushing teeth. Laughed when he stole my toothpaste. It felt... easy.
When the airline texted that flights were resuming, we packed in companionable silence.
At the door, he paused. "Hey."
I looked up.
"If the cramps come back tonight..." He shrugged. "You know where to find me."
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. "Don't push your luck, Voss."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
But as we stepped into the hallway, his hand brushed mine—just once.
And I didn't pull away.
