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“It helped. Hearing her story. It’s not the same, of course, what happened to me, but hearing how she got through it, seeing how confident she is now… I think I’d like to visit Georgia. When it’s safe. If I can find someone to take care of the dogs…”

“I told you I could do it.”

“Gage. Don’t you think I’d want you to come with me?”

Oh. In that case.

“I’m sure we could figure something out. Recruit Ronan and Max again. And I heard Mrs. Adamson—she’s retired, kind of quirky—loves dogs. She might be able to help.”

And now that we’re talking about visits, it reminds me of something I’ve had on my mind.

As we come up on my house, I ask, “How would you feel about meeting my mother? She lives down in Florida, but she usually comes here every summer to visit. It wouldn’t be until August, probably, and I know that’s still months away, but would you want to meet her? ”

Rory jerks to a stop. Her face lights up. “I’d love to meet your mom.”

My heart does that funny rolling over thing again. “Okay. Good.”

Just as I’m about to start walking again, she tugs on my hand. “Gage?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think… would you want to stay over tonight?”

“You mean to sleep on the couch? Sure. Do you mind if I bring over Dewey? He knows Elmore and Toby, so I think it would be fine. Unless you’d rather I bring him to Enzo’s?—”

“No.” She ducks her head. Then looks up at me again with a hopeful expression. “Not on the couch. With me.”

Oh.

Though my body is shouting an enthusiastic yes, logic urges caution.

It’s only been a few days since our first official date, and we’ve done plenty of kissing since then, but I didn’t think sex would be on the table for weeks, at least. Possibly months.

Not considering how self-conscious I know Rory is about her body, even though I don’t think she has any reason to be.

In all honesty, I’m hesitant, too.

Do I want to have sex with Rory? Of course.

I would love to feel her bare skin against mine, spend my time kissing her all over, find out the exact pink shade of her nipples and how she tastes when she finally gives herself over to me.

When I think about sinking into her welcoming heat, feeling her clenching around me, watching her face flush with pleasure as I bring her over the edge…

How could I not want that?

But sex—though it already feels like it would be more than that—also means Rory seeing me without my prosthetic. Possibly seeing me as less. Incomplete.

“Gage?” Worried lines make a little V between her eyes. “If you’d rather not…”

“I would.” Despite my insecurity, there’s no way I’m telling her no. “But are you sure you’re ready for that?” A thought occurs to me. “Unless. Do you just want me to sleep next to you? I shouldn’t assume?—”

“But you can.” Rory’s gaze meets mine. Uncertainty flickers across her face.

Then she lifts her chin and adds, “I’m ready.

” A pause, and then, “Well. I’m nervous.

Not about being with you. Just… showing you.

You’ve never seen all my scars. But I’m tired of hiding.

Holding myself back from what I really want. ”

My heart twists. Wrapping my arm around Rory’s waist, I draw her to my side. As I lead her the rest of the way to her cabin, I admit quietly, “I’m a little nervous, too.”

Her head whips towards me. “ You’re nervous?”

I don’t answer her immediately, instead busying myself by unlocking Rory’s front door and locking it again behind us.

Once we’re safely inside, I turn to her. And on a heavy exhale, I explain, “I’ll have to take off my prosthetic. Eventually. Even if I leave it on during… I’ll have to take it off while I sleep. You would be the first person to see me like that since I left the hospital.”

Rory stares at me, emotion working in her eyes. After a few moments, she says, “Gage. I don’t care if you have it on or not. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable is okay with me. If you’d rather sleep on your own, or?—”

“I want to spend the night with you,” I interject. “I want to hold you after. Fall asleep with you in my arms. Not skulk out in the middle of the night because I’m too damn ashamed for you to see my weakness.”

“Gage.” It’s gently scolding. “You are not weak. At all. In fact, you’re the strongest man I know.” She threads her small fingers between mine. “I guess… we’re both a little nervous. But if we both want this…” Her voice lilts up in question.

“I do.”

“Then maybe… we could be nervous together?”

The hopeful look in Rory’s eyes makes my heart twist. Throb. Roll over heavily.

“Yes.” In one fluid move, I lift her into my arms. Brushing my mouth across hers, I add, “I think that’s a really good idea, Ror.”

She kisses me back, first slow and tender, then hungry and demanding. Her teeth graze my lip, sending a surge of arousal pulsing through me. Her hand comes to the back of my neck, her nails lightly scratching my skin.

When she breaks away, her cheeks are pink and her lips kiss-swollen and damp. “Okay.” She sucks in a steadying breath. “If you’re sure?”

“Yes,” I repeat, more firmly this time. Then I carry her through the living room and towards the bedroom. “I am absolutely sure. There is nothing I’d rather do than make lo?—”

Shit. Do not use the love word. It’s far too soon.

I quickly amend, “I want this, Ror. I want you . 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 think this could 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.

I take off the protective sleeve.

Set them on the floor.

In the moment before I sit back up, I utter a silent prayer.

Please, let this be okay.

When I look at Rory again, I’m not sure what I’m expecting.

But all I see is open appreciation.

Her gaze moves from my legs, to my briefs, and finally, my shirt. A smile curves her lips.

“I think,” she starts, “you’re still wearing too many clothes.”

Moving closer to me, she puts her hands on my thighs. My muscles bunch beneath her fingers. She brushes a kiss across my jaw. “Your legs are really sexy,” she whispers. “I knew they were muscly. But without your pants…” Another kiss. “Now I’m really wondering how you look with your shirt off.”

One of the weights pressing on my chest disappears.

I palm Rory’s breast, flicking my thumb across her taut nipple. “I think I could do that.” Lowering my head to her neck, I kiss the little spot by her jaw that I’ve learned drives her crazy. “Do you think you’d be okay with showing me all of you, too?”

Rory doesn’t answer right away. She just looks at me. I can see the uncertainty still lingering in her expression.

I don’t want to push her. But.

She needs to know just how perfect I think she is.

“Whatever you want is okay,” I add gently. “Lights on or off. Under the blankets or on top. Or if you’d rather just kiss tonight, that’s fine, too.”

Her eyes close. She draws in a deep breath.

Then she looks at me again. “I want everything, Gage. All of you. And I want to give you the same.”

She rises on her knees. Wriggles out of her pants, leaving herself in only that sexy white bra and matching panties.

She’s absolutely stunning.

Perfect, really.

“Baby,” I breathe, pulling her into my arms. “I’ll give you anything you want.”