“Shhh,” he whispers into my ear. He swings me around, still with only one hand under my ass, the other cupping me. Effortlessly he walks me into the bedroom, where he deposits me on the bed.

I whimper in disappointment as we lose contact.

“Don’t worry, sweet baby. I’m not done with you yet.”

I rise unsteadily to my knees and reach over to unzip his jeans. It’s a struggle because he’s so hard and so big, but I manage to unfasten the denim without hurting him.

He watches me with glittering eyes—a dark promise there of more to come. I squeeze my legs tight again at the pulse of arousal.

“Are you getting wet again?” he asks.

I don’t think I’m ever not wet with him. “I can’t help it.” I grin. “You’re too hot. You should be dumpy and bald with bad habits like picking at your teeth or clipping your toenails while you eat.”

“Clipping my what? Is that even a thing?”

“I don’t know. It sounded gross when I thought it up.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “And you still wanted to have dinner with me.”

“Yes!” I pluck at the waistband of his underwear, brushing the broad head of his shaft as I do so. “Yes, I wanted to and I want to again. And I want you to get in bed with me and cuddle. I told you I missed that and you said you wanted to do everything that I’ve missed.”

“I did say that.” The side of his mouth quirks up.

“Yes, you did.”

“The stump isn’t an attractive thing.”

“It’s part of you. You’re hot. Ergo, your stumps are hot. Are we done with this conversation?”

He flashes a wicked grin. “Yes, we are done with this conversation. Help me take my shorts off, so I can show you exactly how done we are with talking.”

I don’t need another order. Or actually I don’t mind the orders. And by the glint in his eyes, he knows it. I push down his shorts and then sit back on my knees to await the next instruction.

He takes his heavy erection in his hand and roughly pumps it. A pearl of milky white liquid appears on the tip, and my mouth waters. I lick my lips. I want that in my mouth.

“Get on your knees, sweetheart, and open your mouth. I want to feel your hot tongue around me.”

Me too. I slide off the bed until I’m resting on my knees. Obediently I open my mouth and close my eyes. He slides his fingers, the special ones on his left side, tentatively into my hair. I lean into it, this new, wonderful caress. Embolden by my response, he tightens his fingers just slightly, as if he’s flexing.

“Okay?” he says in a growl.

“Perfect.” I reach up and grip the hand in my hair and squeeze. He’s not supposed to feel it, but I think he does because he tenses and then breathes out a sound, half wounded animal, half sigh of relief. And then the tip of his shaft passes over my lips. Once, twice. I lick the salty trail left behind and open my mouth for more.

This time he gives it to me. As with everything today, though, it’s slow. He inches inside me and then withdraws. I whimper when he does. I want to be filled up with him. I want to choke on his length and be surrounded by his scent, the thick taste of him on my tongue. “More.”

He sweeps the hair out of my face and then holds it in a ponytail behind my head. He jerks my head back and thrusts in, not all the way but deep. Desire pools in me. I close my lips and suck hard, enjoying his gasp.

“Close,” he mutters, pulling gently on my hair, but I refuse this order. I want him to come apart above me. I want to swallow him as he spends himself on my tongue. I love having him inside me. My resistance proves too much for him and he loses a little of his control.

His hips push forward as he fucks my mouth. I curl my tongue, making a bed for his shaft, and then suck as hard as I can, using my hand as a stop to prevent myself from choking on his thick, long length.

I take him in with unrestrained joy and he responds just as wildly, shoving at my mouth, gripping my hair. The pain and pleasure all blur into one until I feel him jerk in my mouth.

“Fuck,” he cries. “So fucking good.”

He comes with a low, harsh groan, and I swallow as much of the salty goodness as I can.

“Jesus, Natalie, Jesus,” he says as he withdraws. “Your eyes are like stars right now. I’m going to fuck you again soon and I want you to look at me just like that.”

He brushes the side of my mouth with his thumb. A little spot of his come rests on the tip. My tongue darts out to lap it up and he shuts his eyes, as if the sight is just too erotic for him to bear to watch.

His thumb tastes salty like his come, but earthier. Like everything else about him, I’m addicted.

He reaches down and lifts me up and then places me tenderly on the bed. And then he takes a seat and proceeds to remove his prosthetics, his actions unhurried and practiced. I don’t offer to help, but I do rub the small of his back while I watch.

First his leg and then his arm. He has more limb left than I realized. His forearm ends about four inches from the wrist but most of it is covered in the sleeve that attaches to his device. The same with his leg. I don’t find his stumps unattractive, as he warned. They are simply part of him, a part of the whole that I’ve fallen in love with. I move backward on the bed and raise the covers.

It’s probably too early for bedtime, but I want to lie in here, inside the circle of his arms, and fall asleep with my head pressed against his chest. When he stands, I raise the covers and he climbs inside. He tucks his right arm under me and curls me against him.

“You’re beautiful,” I mumble against his chest.

“That’s my line.” His palm rubs against my back. I reach across and grip his elbow to draw his arm near me. I’m careful not to touch the lower limb until he gives me the green light, but I want him to know that I love every part of his body.

He resists at first and then allows me to pull his arm close. It rests on his chest and I fall asleep with one hand under his shoulder and the other holding his elbow. As I drift off, I realize that my hand has slipped down, farther down his forearm, but he doesn’t move. Not even when I tighten my grip.

Good.

Because I’m not letting go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

JAKE

I rub her back until her breathing evens out and deepens. One of the skills they teach you in the army is how to fall sleep in a minute no matter what your circumstances. You learn to sleep in a ditch, on top of the crate boxes, or in a hellishly loud helicopter. If you don’t rest while you can, you’ll be too tired to function, and tired people are dead people. Of course you never get enough sleep, which is why everyone ate the instant coffee and popped Ephedra like it was candy.

So I know I could fall asleep even though it’s early. But I don’t want to.

Instead, I want to enjoy the feel of her lying next to me. Her head rests on my shoulder and her hand has slid from my elbow down over my forearm. I work it out daily and above the elbow, there’s virtually no difference between my right and left side. Below, inside the sleeve, it narrows where the muscle has atrophied.

I’ve never touched a woman with my prosthetic off, never laid next to one like this, and until now, I didn’t realize how much I missed it. The other night Natalie said she missed cuddling. I didn’t miss cuddling, but there’s an intimacy and closeness that I hadn’t allowed myself to experience since being injured.