Page 69 of Protected from Torment

Releasing her nipple from my mouth with a little pop, I meet her gaze and ask, “What, baby?”

“I love this,” she says. “What you’re doing. But I want more.”

“More of what? This?” I curl my fingers inside her again, and her hips jerk. “Or this?” I take her nipple in my mouth, but this time I graze my teeth across it. “Tell me what you like, and I’ll do it.”

Or maybe she’s uncomfortable telling me, I think a beat later. Just because Mel is usually pretty forthcoming about what she wants, that doesn’t necessarily extend to the bedroom. And with it being so long since she’s been with anyone, maybe she’s nervous. “Or,” I add quickly, “we can try some different things. And you can tell me what you like, so I know.”

“I like this,” she replies. “Everything you’re doing. But I want to see you. Those muscles I’ve been thinking about.” She splays her hand over my stomach. “I want to know if you have a six-pack or an eight. I want to see if you have any tattoos⁠—”

“Two,” I tell her. Then I rock back on my heels. In one move, I yank off my shirt and throw it aside. As Melissa’s eyes roam across my chest, I continue, “First, I have the Blade and Arrow insignia.” Turning, I show her the tattoo of two arrows crossing over a blade on my upper back. “And this one.” I angle my chin at Kaia’s name written in script just above my heart.

Melissa stares at Kaia’s name long enough for me to wonder if it upsets her. I’m sure it’s not what a woman wants to see when she’s about to have sex with her boyfriend—another woman’s name tattooed on his body.

But I should have known Melissa would understand.

“I never got any tattoos,” she finally says. “I thought about it. But I guess I was too much of a chicken.”

“You’re not a chicken,” I reply. Then I lean down to kiss her again. “You’re the furthest thing from it.”

Mel kisses me back. When she pulls away, she holds my gaze. “You make me feel brave.”

My heart tugs. “You make me feel brave, too.”

Her expression softens. “Tyler.”

“It’s true.” I hadn’t thought about it like that before, but it is. All the things I’ve done since meeting Melissa—sharing dinner with her in Long Lake, flying across the country to help her, opening up about my past, kissing her, dating her, and now this—happened because of her.

And that’s what gives me the courage to do the thing I’ve been dreading.

“Stay here,” I tell her. “Just give me one second.”

Then I move to the edge of the bed so I can take off my prosthetic.

And shit, am I scared. But I do it, anyway.

I do it so Mel can see. So she knows.

First, I take off my shoes and pants and set them aside. Then I release the locking mechanism and carefully pull the prosthetic off. After that, it’s the nylon sock I use to protect my skin; the last layer that covers the scars underneath.

Once I have everything off, I turn back around. Melissa is still laying there, just as I left her. When I inspect her face, searching for her reaction, there’s no sign of disappointment. No sign of sympathy or disgust. All I see is quiet acceptance.

“So,” I say, “That’s it. I have to do that every night. I don’t know if it’s⁠—”

“It’s about time,” she interrupts. Then she sits up, grabs hold of me with her good hand, and tugs me down on top of her.

I catch myself with my other arm, so I’m braced above her. “About time for what?”

“For you to get your clothes off,” she replies with a smile. “Or at least, most of them.” Her gaze dips to my briefs. “It looks like we still have a few things to take care of.”

Intense relief floods through me.

She doesn’t care.

I didn’t think she would. But I wasn’t sure until now.

“Well,” I reply as confidence shoves aside the last of my fears. “I guess we should do something about that, shouldn’t we?”

Mel looks up at me and smiles. “I think we should.”