Pose (Club Kitten Dancers 2)

“I should go home,” I say. Score one for being a good guy and doing the right thing.

“You should stay here,” she whispers.

I should go.

She steps forward and places her hands on my chest.

“You should stay,” she repeats.

I tuck a strand of her light blonde hair behind her ear. Somehow, I can’t pull my hand back. Instead, my palm cups her cheek and I feel her soft skin against mine. It’s been a long time since I felt like this with a woman. It’s been a long time since I felt calm.

Or safe.

“Don’t go,” Kasey whispers.

I step inside and close the door behind me. It snaps shut with a loud click and I realize I left the good-guy persona behind with my leg. It’s gone, never to be seen again. That’s not who I am anymore.

I’m not a good guy.

“You’re drunk,” I say.

She shakes her head and reaches for me.

“Not anymore. Just tipsy. My last drink was over an hour ago, and I had a bunch of water.”

“This is a bad idea.”

“It’s a good idea.”

“You might regret it.”

“I’ll never regret you.”

I kiss her. I grip her hair and tug her close and I kiss the hell out of Kasey. I kiss her harder than I did before, harder than I’ve ever kissed anyone, harder than I’ve ever dreamed was possible.

Soft.

Sweet.

Sugary.

She’s everything I want, need, crave.

“Bedroom,” she whispers.

“Here,” I say. Lifting her is effortless, even with a prosthetic. I don’t want to tell her I haven’t done this since I lost my leg. There hasn’t been another woman in my life since my deployment and I didn’t want to be with someone who was only interested in one night.

She’s the first.

I’m not as nervous as I should be. I’m not as anxious as I thought I would be.

In rehab, my therapist always warned me I would have mixed feelings when it was time to be intimate with someone again. She said some guys don’t have a problem jumping back into bed, but sometimes, the feelings of insecurity and weakness come shrieking back.

I carry Kasey to the kitchen and strip her down. Fuck, if she isn’t the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. I steal a taste of her sweet nipples before I lift her again and place her on the counter.

“Is this okay?” She asks between kisses. “Are you comfortable like this?”

“Yeah,” I murmur. I don’t want talking about my leg to kill the mood, but I appreciate she thought of me, too. Even in the midst of our intimacy, she wants to make sure I’m okay. Could she be any more fucking perfect? “This is good. Good balance here, like this.”