he found concern mixed with a hint of pleasure.
Unable to quite believe her quick acceptance, he voiced the question eating at his gut. "Don't you find it… ugly?"
Her gaze met his and held steady. "Not at all." She moved her hands slightly upward, then back down, going over the entire leg with warm fingers. "Just because it's different doesn't mean it's ugly. It's your leg, part of you."
He frowned, puzzled and perplexed.
"Logan, you're a good man, inside and out. Handsome as the day is long with a heart of gold. You're brave, smart, so very strong, and possess a great sense of humor. So you have a prosthesis, which takes nothing away from the rest of you. It only makes you more special."
His heart buoyed at her words, the total acceptance he saw in her face and felt in her touch. Unaccustomed to such praise, he looked away, taking a moment for everything to sink in.
"If you want, I'll be more than happy to give you a full body massage."
"You don't have to." His attention returned to her face. But the suggestion sounded like downright heaven. To have her hands roaming his body would prove a sensual torture full of future promise.
"I want to." She grinned, the action radiating her beauty. "Besides, I haven't gotten to practice my technique in a long time. I used to love doing massages, found them relaxing for me, too."
Her innate giving nature pulled at his heartstrings. Most women would shun him for his disability, not offer to rub away cramps, then follow through with a full spa treatment in the aftermath of a severe winter storm.
"Just call me a guinea pig." He found his spirits revived, as relief washed over him in waves. In her eyes, he could be a complete man again. A priceless blessing.
"Good deal." She looked around. "Bed or couch, you'll have to pull your shirt off, but I think I can work around the blanket without you getting too cold."
Cold? With the heat spreading where her hands touched, he'd forgotten about the igloo they presently inhabited. His manhood started to take notice as well. He ignored the natural reaction, eager to flip over on his stomach so she could begin her gift, hoping the new position might hide the growing tent in his underwear. For a split second he considered the bed but tossed out the idea. Gwen might be a bit nervous in a more intimate setting, less free than she seemed right now.
"If you think there's enough room here?"
"Sure. I'll push the coffee table back, kneel on the floor beside you. Works just fine."
His brows furrowed. "That's hard on your knees. Why don't you grab the foot stool over there instead?"
She followed his gaze. "That'll do." Jumping up, she grabbed the small ottoman and carried it over. After rearranging the table, she scooted her seat right next to the couch. "There."
Logan couldn't take his eyes off her. Her petite form, remarkable rear, and pretty face shot flaming arrows straight to his groin, making a quick pit stop at his heart first. While her outer beauty captivated him, her attitude and matter-of-fact reaction to his disability compelled him all the more. A man could do a lot worse. He took the opportunity to pull up his sweat pants. If she wanted to work more on his stump, she could work around the clothing. Besides, it was damned cold to be sitting around in just a pair of simple boxers.
Grabbing one of the candles, she sniffed, then gave a brief nod. A quick trip to the kitchen produced an everyday dinner plate. Setting the candle in the center of the kitchenware, she lit the wick, and the room began to fill with the aroma of lavender. The small flame also put out a marginal amount of heat, enough to produce a dent in the descending temperature of the room.
"You ready?" She sat down next to him, her legs spread with each knee braced against the couch. Her position resembled a secretary facing her computer with hands free to busily type away at the keyboard.
He shucked off his sweatshirt and shivered. "Put this on. It'll keep you
Learning to Kill: Stories