Summer would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. Luke was waiting for her. He’d been released from rehab that morning after twelve days there, and she’d promptly taken him back to their hotel overlooking the city, asking him to make love to her. Though she would have preferred he take her back to his cabin in the woods, there was the tiniest distance in him these last two weeks and she wasn’t taking any chance of losing him.

Not when she wanted so badly to do this.

Nerves danced in her stomach, and she bit her lip on a smile. He was shirtless, sitting in a chair beside a small gas fireplace with a beer in his hand. He looked like Atlas after he put the world down, the look in his eyes at once exhausted and intense.

It didn’t matter if he was tired.

He would be awake for her.

She crossed to him. In that moment, she was so certain of his devotion she believed there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. That was Luke. It was who he was.

Her eyes skated over his muscled chest, the fine smattering of hair that covered it glistening in the firelight, and felt a warmth spread through her body that had nothing to do with the flames. Tonight he would be hers. This evening was made for them to be together, to share their bodies and to make love, to let the past finally fall away from the present.

They were each broken, each a piece of a whole, and only together could they truly be complete again. She stood before the fire and faced him, unbuttoning her shirt and draping it over the empty chair beside him. It was perfect that she be naked for him, a reckoning of sorts, an admission that she knew exactly what should happen tonight between them.

She reached behind her back, unfastening her bra and letting it fall from her shoulders, her nipples hardening as she freed them. His stare fell to her breasts and she let him look at her, taking his fill just as she had gloried in his body.

Her knees felt weak. She wanted to sit down but feared things would move too quickly if she did, remembering how badly she’d wanted to kiss him again, just needing to feel his mouth on hers, that connection humming between them like a current.

She held out her hand and he took it, putting down his drink before letting her pull him up. He followed her to the bed and she turned out the light, leaving only the orange glow of the fireplace warming the room. “I want to kiss you. Hold you in my arms,” she said quietly.

Seeming to understand her need to take things slowly despite her nudity, he reclined on the bed and opened his arm for her to settle against his side. The intimacy was so welcome, and she inhaled the scent of his skin before stroking his chest and opposite shoulder.

His hand was on her back, tantalizing her with lazy circles that made her want to purr out loud. She lifted her chin and met his eyes, lust filling his stare, heavy and dark. He kissed her, softly at first, his lips full and generous, and she understood it was no use to try to hold back, to savor each moment.

They were already making love, their kiss just as erotic and sensual as what they were about to do, and she let go of her foolish timeline. There was only Luke and how he made her feel, what she wanted him to experience, all the things she wanted to show him with her body.

She moved on top of him, cradling his face in her hands as she kissed him, loving the way he grabbed her legs behind her knees and held her tightly against his erection. When she sat up, his hand moved to her breast, cradling it with a reverence that made her feel beautiful and wanted.

He kissed her nipple, a chaste pucker that left her wanting more, then opened wide and took her into his mouth, filling himself with her breast as he moaned, the vibrations trembling through her body.

Her hips moved against him of their own accord, their fervent pace and eager pressure increasing as he ramped up her desire, teasing her as he tasted and touched. She pulled at his pants, carefully unzipping his fly and reaching inside to stroke him through his briefs.

He was thick and hard and he gasped when she grazed his balls with her fingernails. “Jesus, Summer,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Take these off,” she commanded, tugging at his pants.

He pushed them off his hips and they fell to the floor. She slipped her hands inside the waistband of his briefs and lifted it past his erection, sliding the material down his ass and lower, bending her knees as she followed them down, and froze.

There, just below his left knee, was a prosthetic. A shining silver rod supported his weight where a calf should have been.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you.” His voice was casual, even flippant, but she knew it must have cost him.

“Mac did.” She leaned

She reached her open palm behind his thigh, feeling the thick bands of muscle beneath the skin and hair before moving lower, caressing his kneecap lovingly.

She needed him to know what she saw, the admirable man, the war hero, the friend. To understand what she felt. She leaned forward and kissed his knee, slowly moving lower until her lips connected with cold plastic.

He hauled her up to face him. “What are you doing to me?”

“Loving you.” They were the most natural words she’d ever spoken, the truest.

His eyes narrowed, a shadow passing over them as his throat worked, and she wondered if he would push her away. Then he was kissing her fiercely, rolling on top of her, desperately moving down the side of her neck with his lips and tongue as she arched her back with longing.

No man had ever felt this right, no coming together so inevitable, no passion so required. She needed to be with this man like she needed to breathe, and nothing would keep her away.

He grabbed his pants and pulled a condom out, ripping the foil and sheathing himself before positioning his cock at her opening and tilting her face up to his. “I want to see you,” he said huskily. He kissed her mouth one more time, his eyes locked on hers as he thrust into her body.

Her back arched again, joy spiking through her bloodstream and lighting up her brain. She cried out, her hips wrestling his for control of their pleasure, pressure already building behind her sensitive bud as her body clenched rhythmically at his.

She dug her nails into his back, needing him to come as deeply inside her as he possibly could, the speed of his thrusts increasing. She held her breath, her mouth falling open as she crested the edge, sensation rushing into every nerve ending in her body like an ocean wave filling the sand.

He cried out, his hips pounding against her pelvis, balls slapping her body as he came, and her muscles milked him, pulling him more tightly inside her. They stayed intertwined, grabbing each other like they might never come apart, until her heart rate returned to normal and his breathing slowed down.

He kissed her cheek and rolled off her, leaving a cold spot on her face. She wiped it with her finger, taking the tiny bit of liquid and touching it to her tongue.

A salty tear.

Luke Arroyo was crying.