Page 56 of Mountain Defender

I quickly amend, “I want this, Ror. I wantyou. So badly it hurts.”

A soft smile curves her lips. “You have me.”

Ah, shit.

Need throbs deep inside me.

My pants go painfully tight.

My brain short-circuits for a second as visions of Rory naked fill my head. Her plump breasts heaving with uneven breaths, her legs parted, velvety pink skin slick and ready for me. I can see her expression, not worried or anxious, but filled with a pleasure on its way to becoming ecstasy.

“Gage?” A note of humor tinges her voice. “The bed’s over there.”

I belatedly realize I’m standing stock-still in the bedroom doorway instead of going over to the bed, like logic would suggest.

“I was thinking about you naked,” I blurt out. “And I got a little distracted.”

As Rory looks at me, her mouth pulls down. Those tiny lines etch between her eyes again. She glances at the light still glowing on the nightstand. “Maybe we should dim the lights…”

“We can. If you want to.” Crossing the room, I lay Rory on the mattress. “But I’d really like to see you, Ror. All of you.”

She blinks. Swallows hard. Then she gives me a quick nod. “Okay, Gage.” A quick inhale, and then, “We’re being brave together, right?”

A rush of emotion slams into me; so intense I actually lose my breath for a second.

Protectiveness. Admiration. Pride. Affection. And something deeper I can’t put words to.

“We are,” I tell her. Then I unbutton my pants and push them down.

My heart jumps.

Fear threatens to take over, along with the what-ifs.

What if she recoils when she sees the scars on my leg? What if she can’t hide her distaste—worse, disgust—when she sees my stump?

As I step out of my pants, Rory sits up. Her gaze is glued to mine.

With trembling fingers, she pulls her shirt over her head.

Beneath, she’s wearing a plain white bra that somehow looks sexier than any flimsy lingerie. A flush spreads across her chest and between her breasts. Her nipples are hard, rosy tips poking at the pale fabric, calling to me.

Her stomach is flat and toned, and her little belly button might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. A little tattoo peeks out from her waistband, just a flash of color against her creamy skin.

As for the scars? I barely notice them. They’re a part of Rory, marks of survival and determination, and no less beautiful than the rest of her.

But I can tell she’s scared. Waiting for the judgment she’s come to expect. Cruel words like the ones she heard from that piece of shit back in college.

If she’s brave enough to show me, surely, I can do the same.

Not in the dark, under the covers, possibly waiting until she’s sleeping. Now.

Of all the things I’ve done, the dangerous missions and daredevil rescues, even that horrible day when our helo was shot down, I thinkthiscould be the most frightening.

I sink onto the bed, still looking at Rory. “You’re beautiful,” I tell her. Leaning in, I capture her mouth with mine. “So beautiful.”

Then.

My heart pounding, I take off my prosthetic.