He pulled me close, our naked bodies at ease together.

Cannon tugged the sheet up around us, and I rested my head against his chest. “Not in love with me yet, are you?” he asked with a smirk.

“Not even close.” I propped up on one elbow, looking down on him. “You were right about two things, though.”

He met my gaze with a soft smile. “And what was that?”

“You weren’t kidding about your size or your stamina. But no, this isn’t love. That was carnal lust.”

“Agreed. Now, come here.”

“But you said once. That was the agreement.” Any more than that could be dangerous for my heart.

“You’re not in love yet.” Cannon’s hand drifted under the sheet, sliding down my belly to softly stroke between my legs. “And this pussy is still soft and wet for me.”

“I don’t know,” I whined.

“That was so fucking good,” he said, turning toward me and kissing my neck again. “I want more.”

“Just good?” I teased.

He slipped one long finger inside me. “Forgive me. Good was the wrong word. Incredible. Amazing.” He withdrew his finger and pressed in slowly again. “So warm and snug. I want to live in there.”

Cannon removed the spent condom and sheathed himself in another as I lay there, my thighs parted, ready for everything he could give me.

• • •

It had been two days since we’d had sex, and life had moved on. I went back to work, and so had Cannon, and we acted like everything was normal. He gave no indication that his world had been knocked off its axis, so of course I’d done what I needed to do to convince him we were cool. But today, things downstairs had taken a drastic turn, and I could no longer pretend I was fine.

My lady parts burned. They were swollen and angry and red. I knew exactly what was going on. God was punishing me for sleeping with my best friend’s brother.

“Paige?” Cannon asked, rounding the corner toward my bedroom.

After work, I’d collapsed on my bed and hadn’t moved since. Cannon stood at my door in his scrubs, navy blue and faded. He looked so delicious like that; I didn’t think I’d ever tire of seeing him dressed for work.

“Hi,” I offered weakly.

A look of concern crossed his features. “What’s going on?”

Pulling a deep breath into my lungs, I steeled my nerves. This was not a conversation I wanted to have. Ever. But it needed to be done.

I released a heavy sigh and met his eyes. “I think you gave me an infection.”

His eyebrows pushed together, and he took several steps closer. “That’s not possible. I’m clean; I promise. And besides, we used a condom.”

We had used a condom. Both times that morning we’d made love. No, had sex. The L-word didn’t enter this equation.

Cannon stalked closer. “What are your symptoms?”

Even though I knew his medical opinion would help, I looked away, stammering, “This is a total invasion of privacy.” Picking at my thumbnail, I stared down at my hands. I prayed silently for the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

“Tell me, Paige. I can help.”

My face was on fire. “It’s red down there, and tender and sore. And itchy. I think I have a rash.”

“Let me take a look.”

My gaze snapped up to his. “No way. You’re not looking at my hoo-ha.”

“I already have, you realize. I had my entire face down there. If I take a look, I can determine whether it’s anything to worry about. But I can’t help unless I see.”

I swallowed. Fuck! Of all the fucked-up situations to find myself in, I couldn’t imagine a more embarrassing scenario. After sitting paralyzed for another few moments, I nodded and reluctantly stood to strip off my jeans.

Cannon went to the bathroom, and I heard the water running. He was washing his hands. When he returned, I was standing beside the bed.

“The panties too,” he murmured.

“Can’t you just take a quick peek beneath them?”

He shook his head. “Take them off, and then lay back with your knees open.”

Kill. Me. Now.

While I obeyed, Cannon’s eyes traced my movements. This was just weird.

I lay back, propped up on pillows, and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Just relax, princess,” he said, sitting down on my bed between my parted legs.

Certain I was going to die of embarrassment, I stared blankly up at the ceiling.

“Take a deep breath and open your knees.”

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I did as he asked.

“Interesting . . .” He hesitated, using one finger to softly touch my swollen flesh. His touch was so careful, so reverent, it made my heart swell despite my embarrassment.

“What do you mean, interesting? What the hell is it?”

He met my eyes. “How long after sex did the symptoms start?”

“I noticed it when I woke up the next morning.”

He nodded. “That’s what I figured. It’s a latex allergy.”

I sat up so I could stare incredulously at him. “I’m not allergic to latex.”

“Your vagina begs to differ. We can develop new allergies over time. You’ll be fine . . . you just need to abstain from sex until it’s healed, probably three to five days, and then find a latex-free condom alternative going forward.”

“Right. Well, thanks.” I rose and tugged my underwear back on. I guessed having a roommate who was also a doctor had its perks.