Page 67 of Protected from Torment

The feel of her cradled in my arms and the swell of her curves pressed against me.

Her face as I look down upon it, more beautiful than any of the masterpieces I’ve seen.

And her eyes.

It’s not just the striking color, or the long sweep of her lashes above them. It’s what’s within that strikes a chord deep inside me. It’s everything she’s feeling, right there, on display.

It’s everything I’m feeling.

Anticipation. Desire. Need.

And hidden more deeply, a flicker of fear. Not of the physical act, but what it means.

I know that’s how Mel is feeling, because I’m a little scared, too.

It’s not that I don’t want this. I do. Desperately.

But it’s been a long time.

And very soon, I’m going to have to show Mel my leg. Or lack of it, more aptly. And no matter how many times I’ve told myself that she doesn’t care, that she likes me just as I am, it’s different in theory than it is in reality.

As I carry Melissa down the hallway to the bedroom, she clutches my shoulders and kisses my neck. Her breasts press temptingly against me. “I like this,” she murmurs, her breath a whisper across my skin.

“Like what?” I ask, while trying to shove my insecurities into a far-away compartment in my brain where I won’t have to deal with them.

She lifts her head so she can meet my gaze. Faint pink touches her cheeks. “You carrying me like this.”

“Oh?” I adjust my arms behind her back and under her legs, lifting her higher against my chest. “Do you?”

“Yes.” The pink deepens. “It’s really sexy. Like I’m the heroine in a romance movie and my hero just swooped in to rescue me.”

“A hero, hmm?” My chest swells with unexpected pride. Carrying Mel, who can’t weigh more than a buck twenty, isn’t exactly a major feat for me, not when I lift double that during my workouts. But hearing her say she likes it, that it makes her think of me as her hero…

It feels good. Really good.

“Is that silly?” she asks. “It probably is. I mean, you really are a hero, with everything you’ve done. Just carrying me down a hallway⁠—”

I silence her with a kiss. Once it ends, I say, “It’s not silly. At all.” Picking up my pace, I hurry into the bedroom and over to the bed. But instead of putting Mel down, I just hold her for a moment.

She looks at me with those gorgeous sky-blue eyes, her gaze searching mine. “Is everything okay? If you’d rather not⁠—”

“Everything’s fine.” I kiss her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and finally, her lips again. “More than fine. It’s perfect. And I’m just taking a second to appreciate it.”

“Oh.” Her lips curve up. “Well. I suppose that’s okay.” One small hand moves from my shoulder to my chest to rest above my racing heart. She bites her lip before blurting, “Are you nervous? About this?”

Lowering Mel to the bed, I sink onto the mattress beside her. For just a moment, I consider saying no, I’m not nervous, though my heartbeat tells a different story. But I haven’t lied to Mel yet, and I’m not starting now. Even if the truth paints a picture of a man who isn’t quite as confident as I’d like to be.

“A little,” I admit. As she opens her mouth to respond, I hurry to explain, “Not about being with you. That’s not it at all. It’s just…”

Shit. This isn’t the kind of thing I want to talk about before having sex with Melissa. I should be telling her how gorgeous she is and how much I want her. I should be peeling off her sexy dress with the floaty skirt that gives a tempting glimpse of her thighs whenever the breeze hits it and discovering the color of her bra and panties before I remove them. Not bringing up my prosthetic and how worried I am for Mel to see me without it.

But I owe Mel the truth. So I give it to her.

“You’ve never seen me without my prosthetic before,” I confess. My stomach twists into a knot as I add, “It’s not pretty. The scars, and it’s… it’s not normal. And I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

Mel jerks up into a seated position. Her expression turns fierce. Then she shoves me hard. “Don’t you ever say that, Tyler. Ever.”

“What?”