“You’re lying,” he pointed out, ninety-five percent sure that she was lying and not really caring if he was wrong.

For the past two hours this small woman had been driving him out of his fucking mind. She’d made a total of twenty-two escape attempts, three of them successful since she’d managed to get out the door before he could grab her and drag her back inside. She’d set a fire, unintentionally, flooded his bathroom, started a fist fight between him and two of his cousins, got the police called on them a total of nine times, accidentally kneed him in the balls three times and now he was starving, cranky, exhausted and all he wanted to do was to get a little sleep before he had to get up at the crack of dawn and start a job that he didn’t want.

“I’m hungry,” she said, deciding to try a different tactic.

“Too bad,” he said, forcing himself not to care that she might very well be starving. It was either that or take the chance of her slamming his balls into his stomach again as she raced for the door, but not for work this time. Oh no, Tinkerbelle was no longer worried about being late for work. Her new mission in life was getting to Dunkin Donuts and buying a double chocolate donut. The woman apparently had a craving for a baked treat and was willing to do anything to get it, even turning him into a eunuch.

“Fine,” she said, sighing heavily as she went back to running her fingers through his hair, something that he was not enjoying. He wasn’t, not at all. It sure as hell wasn’t calming something deep inside of him that he couldn’t name and making him doze off. It was-

“Are we having sex?” she suddenly asked, startling the hell out of him enough to make him open his eyes and raise his head so that he could glare down at the woman that was going to drive him to drink.

“Does it feel like we’re having sex?” he demanded, even though he’d already learned a couple hours ago that Tinkerbelle on Benadryl was incapable of having a rational discussion.

She squished up her face in thought before she shrugged and admitted, “I’ve never been able to tell.”

He should just close his eyes, drop his head back on her stomach and use his weight to keep her pinned to the couch and out of trouble, but instead he found himself asking, “How could you not know if you’re having sex?”

“Jerry was really tiny,” she said with a shrug like it was no big deal. “I couldn’t feel anything.”

For a moment he was too stunned to say anything, but she didn’t seem to have that problem. Nope, not Tinkerbelle.

“I don’t think he knew what he was doing either,” she said, scrunching her face up in thought before she admitted, “Granted, he was the only one that I’d ever been with, but I don’t think sex is supposed to be boring. I’m also pretty sure that I should have felt something,” she said so matter-of-factly that he knew that she wasn’t being a vindictive ex-girlfriend, eager to trash her ex.

“I…..,” he started to say, but his words trailed off as his mind latched onto all the things that he would love to do to Tinkerbelle and she would damn well feel everything that he did to her.

“I don’t think he knew how to use his fingers or tongue either, because-“

“Goodnight, Tinkerbelle,” he said, dropping his head back on her stomach and squeezing his eyes shut as he prayed that she did just that, because he honestly didn’t think that his imagination could take anymore torture tonight, not with her lying beneath him wearing one of his tee shirts and his body more than willing to show her just how good sex could be.

*-*-*-*

2:30 A.M.

“No, I don’t want anymore,” his small, unwanted houseguest mumbled with a cute little whine as she tried to roll over on the couch and-

“Ow!” she muttered with a little whimper as she hit the floor, but she didn’t make any move to get up and climb back on the couch, he noted with a sigh.

“Let’s go,” he said to the drugged-out woman trying to curl up into a ball and go back to sleep on his floor even as he counted his blessings that she was sleeping.

“Comfy,” she mumbled with a little pout as he leaned over and scooped her up.

“The couch is more comfortable,” he gently explained as he placed her back on the couch and quickly tucked her in.

Once she was tucked in, he picked up the small cup of medicine that he’d placed on the coffee table and held it to her lips. “I need you to drink this,” he said softly, giving her a little shake when she started to drift off again.

“You drink it,” she mumbled irritably, blindly pushing the cup away. “I don’t want it.”

“I don’t need it,” he pointed out as he gently pushed a few strands of her beautiful blonde hair out of the way only to get his hand slapped away in the process.

“Neither do I,” she argued.

He sighed heavily as he crouched down next to the couch. “The hives are starting to come back.”

“No, they’re not,” she argued even as she reached up and scratched the hives spreading across her neck.

Too exhausted to argue, he pinched her nose. When she opened her mouth to gasp for air, he poured the medicine in her mouth. He released her nose and covered her mouth with his hand until he was sure that she’d swallowed every last drop.

“I hate you,” she muttered the second that he removed his hand as she tried to glare at him, but the medicine was already kicking in, adding to the drowsiness from the last dose.