He grunted. “I should have been doing these all along.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t see the point.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “Couldn’t see past the loss.”
“It must have been difficult.”
“I was selfish, only thinking about myself.” He glanced at her. “I can see that now. There’s more to life than the army and making my father happy.”
The intensity in his eyes drew her in. “I’m glad.” The kiss they’d shared the night before came back to her with clarity. His passion had surprised her, possibly because of how sullen he’d been when she’d first met him. She swallowed and asked, “Do you want a hand with your exercises?”
He hesitated and then nodded.
She knelt on the ground and took the end of his leg in her hands, massaging it, pressing into the scars to soften them and help the blood circulate. Arthur hissed and she glanced at him. “Too hard?”
“No, it’s fine.”
From this position on her knees, she could think of other things she’d like to do with him. He hadn’t lost all his muscle through his inactivity, and her fingers itched to run under his shirt and across his chest. His eyes widened and she smiled, before concentrating back on his legs. He knew what she was thinking.
Arthur let out a shaky breath. “If you’d been my therapist, I would have done my exercises diligently.”
She grinned. “If I’d been your therapist, I wouldn’t have acted on these thoughts I’m having.”
His lips twitched. “What thoughts would they be?”
“These.” She slid her hands further up his legs, skirting his groin, and shifted to a crouch so she could straddle him and run her hands under his shirt.
His hands clenched her hips and held her in place. “I like your thoughts.”
She dipped her head and brushed a kiss against one cheek and then the other. His hand went to the back of her head, and he held her in place, turning their heads so their lips met. She’d been expecting a rush of passion, but he was slow, methodical, teasing her lips open, taking small soft kisses as if he wanted to taste every millimetre.
Gretchen let him lead even though she was on top. Her heart fluttered at his thorough exploration before he slipped his tongue between her lips and tasted her.
She sighed, floating away on the pleasure, being so expertly seduced by him. She moved her hands, rubbing soft circles over his nipples. He groaned and pressed into her, deepening the kiss. More. She wanted his lips all over her body, and she wanted to touch him everywhere. She broke the kiss. “Bedroom.”
In one swift movement, he pressed up, keeping his grip on her butt, standing.
Then he swore and teetered, letting go of her. Her feet hit the ground and she caught him before he fell. Arthur’s face flushed red. “Are you all right?”
They’d both forgotten about his leg.
“I will be as long as you don’t stop.” Gretchen wrapped her arms around his neck, sliding one hand onto the back of his head, and brought him close. She wouldn’t let this minor hiccup ruin the night.
His kisses were more perfunctory and she broke away. “Arthur, don’t let it bother you.”
“How am I supposed to get to the bedroom without my prosthesis?”
She imagined it wouldn’t feel sexy if she helped him. “You could put it back on.” But would it hinder his pleasure or be a reminder of what he’d lost? She glanced around and thought about when she knelt beside him. She ran a finger down his chest. “You know, I don’t mind a man on his hands and knees.”
There was a spark of interest, but it didn’t light him up. Hoping she was doing the right thing, she stepped away and slid her polo shirt off, so she stood in her bra and shorts.
His eyes widened in appreciation and scanned her body, lingering on her breasts. “You want to see these, you need to come after me.” She undid her bra, turning and sliding it off so all he saw was her back. She tossed it at him and he caught it, running his fingers over the material. Her body tingled in anticipation, and she slipped out of her shorts, leaving them on the floor. She glanced over her shoulder. “I’d really like you to see the rest of me.” She walked into her bedroom, hoping he would follow.
***
Arthur absent-mindedly stroked the soft fabric of Gretchen’s bra as she disappeared into her bedroom. The self-loathing and feelings of inadequacy fought to take over, and he struggled to push them down. What was wrong with him? He had a beautiful woman inviting him to her bedroom, and he was too caught up in how he’d made a fool of himself to go after her.
All he’d wanted was to carry Gretchen to her bedroom and make love to her.
