In that moment, I know that before I never cared what other women thought of my new body, one both made by man and whatever higher being is in charge of creation, because I never really cared enough for those women. I enjoyed their company, their bodies. I enjoyed being wanted after those harrowing months of wondering whether I’d even be able to get an erection again.

I enjoyed the simple mechanics of fucking.

And I’d thought, vaguely, of having a family, a wife. But none of those thoughts had any substance, because I didn’t care.

But with Natalie, I care. Maybe too much.

I raise my head and look straight into her gorgeous face and her big eyes and realize that I care so fucking much that she could destroy me.

That’s really why I ran out last night—not because my leg fucking hurt. But because I was afraid.

And as my heart beats just a little faster and the moisture in my mouth dries up, I get a tiny inkling of what she feels on a regular basis.

Being afraid is a shitty way to live.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

NATALIE

He stares at me with heavy-lidded eyes and I can’t read a damn thing in them. I want him to tell me what it meant. No, I want him to tell me it meant something. I can’t lie to myself anymore. Last night the earth moved for me. My little world got spun so far off its axis, he’s set me on an entirely new rotation.

He’s contemplating something, but I don’t know what it is. Maybe I was like an ultimate warrior challenge. Find a housebound chick and see if you can make her have an orgasm without her ever seeing you. It’s the “sit in” merit badge.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” he says warningly.

Grumpily I fold my arms across my chest. “What is it that I’m supposedly thinking?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not good. Your brow”—he waves a finger across his forehead—“is fierce.”

Fierce? He doesn’t know fierce. I throw up my arms. “You acted like you were so hot to get in here, demanding me to call you and have dinner with you, and then after you got some you leave?”

He lifts his hands, spreading his right fingers wide and then his left ones. Today the left hand is black, made of some fucking cool metal. I want to touch it and see what it does.

“After I got some, my leg and arm fucking hurt and I was too vain to stay.”

“You were too vain?” I echo. It doesn’t compute with me.

“I needed to take my leg off.”

“Then why didn’t you take your leg off here?” I jerk my hand toward the bedroom. “I woke up and I was all alone and that hurt!”

“I know. Shit,” he curses, as he shoves himself off the sofa and advances. I back up but the living room is small and there’s no place for me to go. “I haven’t slept—actually fallen asleep—with a woman since I was injured. I never took off my prosthetic. I’ve never been around anyone with just my stump.”

He makes a sound, a cross between a sigh and a groan. “I never want you to hurt, not because of something I’ve done. I’m sorry. I didn’t place your feelings first, but I promise that if you give me another chance, I’ll never make that mistake again.”

“Never?” I don’t believe it.

“Never.” The firmness of his voice leaves no room for uncertainty.

All those nevers undo me. He cups my face with his right hand, covering my chin, and then drags his thumb across my cheek. His left hand hangs by his side as if he’s afraid to touch me with it. It was the same last night. I had to pull his left hand to my breast.

It’s hard to reconcile the image of an uncertain Jake with the tall, gorgeous man in front of me. The way his muscles ripple under the cotton of his T-shirt could fool a person into thinking all of him is that hard, but there’s a part of him that’s vulnerable and he’s showing that part to me. I lift his left hand up to my mouth and press a kiss in it. It doesn’t feel like his right hand, but it doesn’t feel wrong either. It’s just part of him, an amazing part.

His fingers curve around my cheek and hold me tenderly. I close my eyes as I lose myself in the embrace. I don’t know if some stupid woman rejected him before, but if so, I need to send her a thank-you note, because he’s mine now and I’m keeping him. All of him. The flesh parts, the plastic parts, the metal parts. The heart parts. It’s all mine.

I raise my face and he bends immediately to fasten his mouth to mine. His tongue invades and his hands, both of them, hold me in place so he can ravish me. I grip his hard biceps and then when that isn’t enough, I drag him closer by wrapping one of my legs around his hip. He drops his left hand to help me up and then presses us both against the wall. His thick erection presses against the seam of my thin flannel pajama bottoms and the friction makes me moan into his mouth.

He feels impossibly strong beneath my touch. I grapple with his shirt until it’s out of my way and I can stroke my hands over his smooth muscular chest. I map out the ridges and the valleys, enjoying his hiss against my mouth as I scrape my nails over his nipples. I play with them until they, like mine, are hard and erect. Then I drop my hands lower to skate around the waistband of his jeans. He sucks in a breath and then releases it into my mouth.

His kiss becomes hard and fevered and I run my hands along both arms, enjoying the contrast of his warm skin and the cool metal.

His fingers find their way into my pajama bottoms and then into my panties. He strokes me with several fingers, spreading the moisture of my arousal.

“I need you right now.” I dig my fingers into his shoulders and try to press closer to him.

“I can’t really tell if you’re ready.” He slips two fingers inside me. The sensation is too good and I lose track of my complaint about the many pieces of clothing that separate us. I allow my head to fall back against the wall and he bends down to lick the pulse point on my neck. I jerk against him and he laughs. The low, throaty rumble vibrates against my frame.

Inside me, his fingers stroke me slowly, as if to tell me that we’ve got all day to wring out an orgasm. But I’m anxious and needy and want it now.

“I’m ready.” I squirm against him to show him how ready I am, but he’s working at his own pace, enjoying my immobility. He licks my neck again and then moves up to the sensitive hollow behind my lobe. He sucks the lobe into his mouth, nipping at it and then soothing the tender spot of flesh with his tongue. His mouth moves all over, slowly and leisurely learning all of the sensitive places around my neck and face. His lips never move lower, but I’ve never been more turned on.

My entire body aches with the need for friction and touch. I clutch him closer and ride his hand while rubbing my breasts against his chest.

Never once do I feel too heavy for him. The thrum of his heartbeat is steady against my chest. He holds me as if he could do this forever, keep me up against him with one hand while he strokes me with his other.

But I won’t last forever. I hardly think I can last another minute. With each pass of his fingers and the thrust of the heel of his hand against my sex, I’m growing wetter and hotter. And then I can’t hold on to reality one more second. My toes curl and my thighs tighten like a vise around his wrist. I muffle my cry against his shoulder and cling to him as the climax flashes through me from one end of my body to the other and then ricochets back again. Still he works me until I’m a sobbing, weak mess collapsed against him.