by Tessa Layne
Just as quickly, they flickered with disappointment. She nodded. “You’ll find fresh towels on the stand in the bathroom. Let me know when you’re finished, and I’ll take a quick shower after you.”
He hated the resignation in her voice, that somehow he’d upset her. But surely, she had to know there was no way they could shower together? Ever? Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he grabbed the duffel he’d brought with him this morning, and headed for the open concept stairs that led the way to the master suite. At the top of the stairs, he paused, marveling at the changes the room had undergone in the last three months. The first time she’d invited him up, the room had been a disaster, clothing tossed in piles, bed unmade. Now, the disaster was contained to the closet, and the bed made – whether or not he was visiting – with military precision, a sweet gesture on her part to make him feel more comfortable in her surroundings. A silent invitation to stay. One he never accepted. They’d made love on the bed more times than he could count, but he never stayed.
And he’d never entered her bath, preferring to shower in the privacy of his cabin. But there were still several hours until it was time to press the grapes, and he hadn’t felt like going home. He stopped short at the doorway to her bath, shocked. Not by the enormous clawfoot tub, not by the glittering white and blue mosaic on the wall, or the sink filled with her toiletries, but by the walk-in shower and the shower stool standing in the middle.
An ache pressed against his chest. How long had it been there? She hadn’t known he’d planned on cleaning up here, so it had been a while. And she’d never said a word. He didn’t know if that made him an asshole for not asking, or a coward for not daring to step into uncomfortable territory. Either way, he didn’t like how the realization sat. The entire time he showered and shaved, he chewed on that. Had she been ready and waiting this whole time? Why hadn’t she said anything? Because you’re a defensive dumbass. Because you’ve held her at arm’s length this whole time.
He cleaned up his toiletries, folded his towel and set it over the edge of the tub, and went to the railing at the far end of her room that overlooked the main living area. “Millie? I’m done. Shower’s all yours.”
A moment later she appeared at the top of the stairs. He froze, tee-shirt gripped loosely in his hands. She perused him, eyes hungry, but when they locked gazes, everything changed. She stared at him warily, looking like she was about to cry.
His throat closed up. “Thank you for the shower stool,” he said when he could speak. “I appreciate it.”
She gave a slight nod. “Of course,” she murmured. “I won’t be long.” She ducked her head, and stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
Jason didn’t move until he heard the water turn on. Crossing to the bed, he dropped his pants, and sat, working quickly to disengage his prosthetic and remove the pant leg, and then reengaged the vacuum pump. He looked down at his feet. “Awkward,” he muttered. He had one bare foot and one foot with a shoe attached. Shaking his head, he shut his eyes and took a long breath. Nothing to do about it now. He folded his cargoes and set them on the side table, then he sat down on the bed to wait.
CHAPTER 17
The water shut off. On the other side of the door, he could hear Millie rustling. The noise of his heart pounding in his ears drowned out all other noise. Forcing himself to breathe through his mouth, he fought for calm, failing. A wave of nausea hollowed his stomach. His gaze jerked up at the sound of the door opening, and their gazes collided as she gasped, eyes going wide.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
“How come you’ve never asked me why I won’t spend the night?”
She blinked.
“How come you’ve never asked, not once, why we’ve never been fully naked together?”
He couldn’t decipher the look on her face. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Passionate, loving, fierce… and full of heartache. Panic raced through him. Quite possibly he’d lose his shit if she pitied him. He could handle straight-up rejection, but her pity would kill him.
“Because being with you was more important than the answers to those questions.”
The last answer he’d expected. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Yet again, she surprised the shit out of him. “No woman… No one I… love,” his voice hitched on the word. “This is me.”
His chest burned, so tight, he could barely breathe. Another wave of nausea rolled through him. This was it. The moment when Millie would turn tail and run because the reality was too much, too ugly. He was too ugly. He dragged in a breath and released it with a shudder. Hands trembling, he pulled down the outside liner, disengaging the vacuum, then pulled his leg from the socket, carefully setting the prosthetic against the side table.
Across from him, Millie remained silent.
Heart slamming against his breastbone, Jason risked a glance. If he hadn’t already been sitting, the expression she wore would’ve brought him to his knees. Hands folded across her heart, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. But not tears of sadness, or horror, or pity. No, she watched him with reverence. Adoration. He yanked his gaze downward, unable to take the intensity. Blinking hard at the prickles behind his eyeballs, he unrolled the thin sheaths covering his stump and carefully set them on top of his prosthetic.
Bracing himself on the side of the bed, he focused on a knot in the wood floor. The air in the room grew close. Heavy. He couldn’t breathe. The urge to run overwhelmed him, and at the same time taunted him. What was he supposed to do to get away from her intense scrutiny, now? Hop?
A sob fountained up, and he pushed it down sucking air into his lungs and holding it for a count of six, before blowing out slowly.
“Look at me, Jason,” Millie called softly. Tenderly, as if she were calling a frightened animal.
He kept his gaze firmly on the knot in the floor. “Do you not see what’s in front of you? I’m useless like this.”
“You’re never useless.”
“Bullshit,” he spat, rising to stand on his left leg, daring a quick look in her direction. “What if something happens? How am I supposed to protect you like this?” He gestured down his body, and for emphasis hopped toward her. “Do you know how easy it would be to knock me off balance? To disarm me? How can I keep you safe if I’ve been knocked to the floor?”
Millie moved, meeting him in the middle of the floor. She placed a hand on his sternum, right where the angry knot throbbed and pinched. “You’re not in a war.”
“I’m in a war every goddamned day,” he yelled. Stubborn woman. Why couldn’t she accept him for what he was?
She bowed her head, pressing her cheek to his pec, right where his heart would be, if there was anything left of it. “I don’t need protecting,” she murmured. “I need a partner.” She raised her head, eyes shining. He could drown in those blue eyes. Float away to a far-off place where he was whole. Useful.
“A soulmate,” she whispered reverently.
Her left hand began to trace a pattern of circles down his residual limb. What was she doing? His heart skipped a beat. Then two. No one touched him there. At least not like that. To the doctors and physical therapists, heck, even to him – his residual limb was a thing to be examined, a group of muscles to be strengthened. But she caressed it with the same care she used when touching his cheek. Or his arm. Like she loved it.
He shook his head. Insides quivering like jelly. “I don’t know how to be a soulmate.”
“You don’t have to do or be anything. You already are. Just by being you,” she answered, eyes boring into him. “I knew the moment we kissed. Yang to my Yin.” She continued caressing his right leg.
“How is it you can slay me with a look? A touch?” He murmured, drawing a hand into her silken curls. “You strip me to my bones.”
“It’s not me. It’s us.”
“I’m not, I don’t–”
She silenced him with a finger to his lips. “I love you, Jason. With everything insid
e me. Just as you are. Whatever comes our way, we’ll face it together – if you want. You’re not alone. Not anymore.”
The hard angry knot he carried beneath his sternum softened with each stroke of her fingers. Melting away underneath her steadfast gaze. He couldn’t fight it anymore. Hell, he didn’t want to. She filled the dark places of his soul with light, cradled him in warmth, trust.
She pressed her body to his, and offered up her mouth. Her kiss was an absolution, a promise.
He hopped back, confident he wouldn’t wobble. Wrapping an arm around her and pivoting, he tumbled them to the bed. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” He pushed under her robe, grounding himself in the sensation of her skin. She had the softest skin. It must be from the lotion she made – his residual limb had never felt better.
She gave him a shy smile. “I’ll take off my robe, if you take off your shorts.”
This was it, the first time he’d ever been fully naked with a woman since before his accident. He quelled the little bubble of anxiety pressing against his sternum. Millie loved him. He had nothing to fear.
Shoving off his boxers, he opened himself to her gaze. She stared at him reverently, a look of wonder on her face. “You’re beautiful Jason. The most beautiful man I’ve ever known. I could stare at you for days and never grow tired.”
“Your turn.” He lifted his chin at her robe. She loosened the belt, pushing off one side to expose a creamy, round shoulder. “You’re as sexy as a 1950’s pinup girl.”
“Yeah?” Her eyes lit at his compliment. So easy to please her, to get her to smile.
“But better. You’re not a fantasy. You’re the real deal.”
She pulled her other arm from the robe and stretched out beside him. “I like being naked with you.”
His chest rumbled. “Not something I hear every day.”
“Well, maybe you should – hear it every day. If I didn’t have to work, I’d lie around with you all day, buck naked.”
Laughing, he kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re a kook.”
“But I’m your kook.” She gave him a playful wink.
“All mine,” he tilted her chin, and brushed his mouth against her full lips. The wonder of it still surprised him. Made him want to be a better man. He skimmed a hand down her side, over the swell of her hip. She followed suit, mirroring his touch, but then she upped the ante, trailing a finger down his hipbone, to circle his rapidly hardening cock. He absolutely loved that she couldn’t seem to keep her hands from his cock. Somebody needed to pinch him, because some days, it felt like he’d died and gone to heaven. Every man should be so lucky.
Her touch on him was the perfect combination of featherlight teasing and strong, sure strokes, meant to bring him to the edge of reason. But he knew her body’s secrets, too. How she liked her nipples pinched, then sucked while he buried himself in her heat. How she went wild at the flat of his tongue on her clit. But right now? He just wanted to love her, to lose himself in her loving softness. There would be time for wild, unbridled coupling, later. He cleared his throat. “I think you should be on top this time.”
With a look of total eagerness, she moved and settled herself across the top of his legs, still working his cock. He shook his head, marveling at how she relished every interaction. She leaned across him, fishing for a condom, and he took advantage of her gorgeous tits, holding her in place while he teased her nipples into hard peaks.
She rolled her hips against him, seeking friction.
“Put on the condom, let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”
She complied, then stopped, meeting his eyes as she slowly lowered herself onto him. Her face softened, mouth dropping open as she settled against him. She gazed down at him through heavy-lidded eyes, tits gently swaying. He was content to let her set the pace, find her rhythm. He’d die a happy man sucking her tits until she came.
She moved slowly, arching her back, thrusting her tits forward. He wrapped his arms around her, taking one breast, then the other as they rocked slowly together, letting the fire build.
Millie’s breathing became more labored as they picked up their pace, thrusts becoming more frenzied, and she dropped her head, seeking his mouth. She was close, she loved to kiss him as they came, their cries mingling as they moved and breathed as one. Tonight was no different, and they came together in a joyous union of feelings and sensations.
As they lay spent, a satiated tangle of limbs, he reflected on the events of the day. Today, calling the harvest, working alongside Millie, celebrating the crush with his new circle of friends. He’d felt more like himself than he ever had. Like he belonged here. He hadn’t thought about his leg, or worried what people thought of him, or if they noticed he was missing a body part. He was just Jason, wine expert, part-time rancher and mentor to veterans, friend, lover. He looked over at the beautiful woman tucked into the curve of his arm, and twisted a stray curl around his finger, fascinated at how the curl sprang back into place when he released it.
Was this what contentment felt like? Better, was the feeling of lightness that covered him, was that happiness?
A tiny thread of doubt curled through him. How would his family react when they discovered he wasn’t done with the wine business? They wouldn’t be pleased. Not by a longshot.
CHAPTER 18
Jason’s alarm sounded. He stretched, reveling in the feel of Millie’s skin against his. As long as he lived, he’d never again take for granted the sensation of skin on skin. The room glowed with the last light of the setting sun.
He rolled to his side, taking a moment to study the woman dozing next to him. How had he never noticed the freckles scattered across her nose? Or the faint scar at the edge of her left eyebrow? How many other details had gone unnoticed in the years since he’d been home from active duty? The alarm sounded again. “Millie, sweetheart, time to check the must.”
“Mmmmm.” She smiled, eyes still shut, hand sliding down his side, coming to rest at his hip bone. “I like being naked with you.”
Her words warmed him to his toes. “I like it too, and the sooner we check the must, the sooner we can get naked again.”
Millie’s eyes popped open, sparkling with mischief. “Oh goody. I have an unopened box of condoms in the dresser.”
Jason’s chest shook. “Of course you do.”
Pushing herself up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, sashaying to the closet, turning back at the doorway to catch him ogling. With a laugh, she pursed her lips and gave him a pose worthy of a pinup girl.
“Get dressed,” he growled. She darted into the closet, and he could hear her rummaging, banging drawers and rattling hangers. “It doesn’t matter what you wear. We’re just going to check on things.”
She reappeared in the doorway with a dress slung over her arm. “I thought you might like to watch.” She cocked an eyebrow, and pulled the dress over her head, a strapless thing that clung to her breasts and nearly reached her ankles.
“Going commando, huh?”
“Why start wearing panties now?”
He dropped his head back with a laugh. “Tease.”
“You love it, and you know it.”
He grew serious. “I love everything about you, Millie. Everything.”
She beamed at him, leaning against the doorframe. “Well come on, then. My turn to watch you.”
For a split second, his heart clutched. She meant to watch him get dressed, something only his OT had seen during his recovery. Just as quickly, the panic passed, and he reached for his boxers. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he donned his boxers, then reached for his pants and pulled the opening of the right leg over his prosthetic. He risked a glance in Millie’s direction. It shouldn’t have surprised him, that she was watching him intently, a look of utter fascination on her face. But it did. He patted the mattress next to him. “Come sit. I’ll show you how this works.”
With a bounce in her step, she crossed the space and sat down next to him.
> He handed her his base layer, and let her examine it. “I put this on first. This protects my skin. Then I use a second one to help with comfort.”
When she returned it, he rolled them on, then reached for the prosthetic and pulled it on. “This is a vacuum socket. It’s the best prosthetic I’ve worn. It allows for the most natural movement, and keeps my stump healthy.”
“Is it okay to call it a stump?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I call it lots of things. Residual limb, fucking leg.” He laughed harshly, still uncomfortable talking so frankly about himself. But there was no point in beating around the bush with Millie.
“Well I love it as much as the rest of you.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Well, you love it more than I do, then.”
She put her hand on his leg, a far-off look in her eye. “When my mom had a double mastectomy, I overheard her talking to dad. Crying. She asked him how he could still be in love with her when she was all chopped up and scarred.” Her voice quivered, and she took a shallow breath, continuing. “And he told her the most beautiful thing. He said, “Char?” I didn’t fall in love with you because of your boobs. I fell in love with you because of what was underneath them.”” Her voice caught, and she paused. “He said, “You’re still the loveliest, most beautiful woman to me, and you always will be.”” She gave him a watery smile. “And you are, to me. So you’re missing a few inches of bone and muscle on your right leg.” She shrugged, emphasizing her point, and moved her hand to his chest. “I fell in love with what’s in here.”
He trapped her hand against his chest, and shut his eyes. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I really am the luckiest man alive.”
“It was destiny.”
He froze, body going rigid.
Beside him, Millie stilled. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”
He jammed his limb into the socket and pushed off the bed, bouncing several times to engage the vacuum, and trying like hell to keep the anger at bay. But her comment hit a raw nerve, and the words tumbled out before he could stop them. “You think it was destiny that I got my leg blown off?” he snapped. “That was just some shit bad luck.” He scowled at her, emotions he’d held in check for far too long, surging to the surface. “You think it was the “grand design of the Universe,”” he air quoted, “that my buddy Gabe bled out in my lap? Tell that to him. Better yet? Tell it to his family.”
