CHAPTER 22

CALLUM RESTED HIS HAND ON the button of his jeans. This was it. There was no going back. If he stripped, he was leaving more than his body bare before her. He was baring his soul. His team hadn’t even seen him without his prosthetics until everything had gone to hell on their last mission together. He’d made an art form out of pretending that he was normal, that he was still whole. And now, here he was, standing in front of a woman who somehow managed to get through every barrier he put up, and he was about to make himself more vulnerable than he’d been in his life. More vulnerable than when he’d been in hospital relying on people to give him some semblance of his life back.

Isobel’s eyes softened. “We don’t need to do this, Callum. I’m in a weird mood. I shouldn’t have pushed you.” She turned and put her hand on the doorknob.

“No. It’s time.” He popped the button on his jeans.

Isobel turned back, leaned against the door and watched him as he unzipped his jeans. Her eyes turned molten as her gaze skimmed over his chest, lingering in the region of his tattoos, then back to his jeans. Her tiny pink tongue peeked out to wet her lips and her cheeks flushed. Callum almost groaned. She was turning something that should have been cold and awkward into something utterly erotic. He could feel himself becoming hard just from watching her watch him.

“You wear underpants,” she said huskily. “Before I found out in person, I thought you’d go commando.” Dark eyes looked up at him. “I spent a lot of time wondering about your underwear choices over these past few months.”

She was killing him. Callum slipped his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans before remembering he needed to take his shoes off first. “Shoes,” he said, and fought the embarrassment that followed. He felt like a teenager alone with a girl for the first time.

“Let me.”

Before he could protest, Isobel was kneeling at his feet and untying his sneakers. Callum gritted his teeth and steeled himself for her reaction to his feet. His plastic feet. Isobel tapped his thigh to get him to lift his leg so she could remove his shoe. And then she stilled, with the shoe still in her hands.

Callum felt panic rise. It was fine to say something was okay, but the reality of coming face to face with it was something else.

“You wear socks?” Isobel grinned up at him. “In case your feet get cold?”

A wave of relief rushed through him, making him feel almost faint.

“Woman, you have a sick sense of humour.” He was relieved his voice didn’t shake.

“I know.” She seemed proud. “All my sisters do. Family funerals are a riot.”

She made quick work of removing the other shoe, and then his socks, putting them in a neat pile at her side. Callum focused intently on everything she did, and held his breath for her first reaction to his skin-coloured plastic feet.

She poked at them. “I’m a little disappointed. I was expecting something out of a sci-fi movie. These look like something you’d take off a mannequin.”

Callum couldn’t fight a smile. “They’re shells. They cover the sci-fi part of the foot, which is metal. You wear these so your feet look more normal and so your shoes fit.”

“Oh.” She poked them again. “So these rubbery bits come off?”

“Aye. But I’m not doing that right now.” Bloody hell, he had enough to get through without dismantling his prosthetic legs so she could satisfy her curiosity.

She sat back on her heels and looked up at him. “I’m ready. You can take everything else off now.”

Even as anxious as he was, Callum couldn’t help but be amused at the sultry way she looked at him.

“You want to move back a bit, give me some room?” He hooked his thumbs in his jeans, and she wriggled back about three inches.

“I’m good here. Get on with it.”

With a shake of his head, Callum lowered his jeans. She frowned at him, and he stopped with them at mid-thigh. The tops of the cups his stumps fitted into were visible, and he wondered if she’d had enough already.

“What about the underpants? Shouldn’t you take them off too?” the little vixen said.

“I don’t need to take off my underwear to show you my legs.”

“Oh.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “It won’t be as much fun if you don’t.”

“This isn’t about fun, woman. It’s about showing you that I’m part man, part machine.”

“I’ve always had a thing for sexy cyborgs. Take everything off, Callum. I want to see all of you. Please, pretty please?”

He shook his head. “You are dangerous.” But he tugged at his underpants, being careful to lift them over his cock, and took them down with his jeans.

She gasped at the sight of him and licked her lips. Callum groaned. This was not going at all the way he’d envisioned it would. He looked behind him, ready to sit down and pull his jeans off the rest of the way.

“I’ll do it,” Isobel said eagerly.

Before he could stop her, she shifted forward and reached for his jeans. He was only inches from her luscious mouth. This was agony. Pure agony. How was he supposed to deal with her reaction to his legs when he was that close to heaven?

“Mmm,” she said, her eyes firmly on his hard length, rather than his titanium legs. She tugged one jean leg over his foot and leaned in to get the other one. Callum put a hand on her shoulder for balance. As she yanked his other jean leg down to his foot, she licked the head of his cock.

“Isobel.” He groaned, and his hand tightened on her shoulder.

She licked him a couple more times before helping him to get his jeans off, and then she sat back on her heels to study him. Callum was breathing hard. His cock pointed out towards her. He could barely think of anything else. Right then, the most important thing in the world was getting inside her.

Her eyes scanned up his body slowly, from his fake feet, over the black carbonite and titanium legs, up his scarred thighs, over his abdomen and tattoos, to his face.

“You are breath-taking,” she whispered. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone more masculine in my life.” She ran her hands up his legs, over the cool metal, until she reached the heat of his thigh. “You’re all power and strength. So many muscles…” Her fingers mapped each indentation on his stomach. There was awe in her face. Absolute awe and raw desire.

Although Callum didn’t move an inch, he felt the world shift beneath him. The foundations he stood on rearranged themselves and became stronger. He was suddenly standing on a very different planet. Because of Isobel. Because of how she looked at him. Because of how she made him feel. A rightness settled deep inside of him. And he knew. He knew that no matter what happened, no matter what they had to face, he was not giving up Isobel Sinclair. Not ever. She didn’t know it yet. But she was his.

Beautiful eyes blazed up at him. “I have a lot of questions about these bionic legs of yours. But first…”

She leaned into him and took the head of his cock into her mouth. Callum spread his legs wide and gave her access, delighting in the way one hand wrapped around his girth while the other gripped his backside. She sucked hard and made him moan with desperation. His whole body felt as though it was on fire. He was desperate for her, desperate to spill himself inside of her, to claim her as his own. The hot, wet heat of her mouth, along with the sight of her on her knees in front of him, giving this to him, was almost more than he could bear. He was tempted to ride this wave of pleasure to its end, but he wanted one thing more. He wanted her under him.

“Stop,” he growled, and tightened his hold on her hair.

She released him with a pop. “Don’t want to.” Her tongue swirled around him.

“Woman, you are driving me nuts.”

She actually smiled. “Good.”

Callum let go of her hair and reached down to lift her to her feet. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and her hands went straight to his chest. She moulded her fingers to his pecs and let out a tiny sigh of contentment.

“Is it wrong that I really, really like you being naked when I’m still dressed? It feels naughty.”

“Naughty?” He couldn’t stop the chuckle, even though his skin was past sensitive and he was desperate with the need to get inside of her. “Like a teenager?”

“Like a woman who is losing her mind over a man.”

He liked the sound of that a whole lot. There was only one thing he’d change. “Over her man.”

Her eyes shot to his, and for a second he thought he saw panic. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He liked having Isobel all sensual and needy. He clasped her nape and slammed his mouth down onto hers, kissing her with a desperation that bordered on obsession. She melted against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to keep upright. Callum tugged at his old T-shirt and tried to get it over her head.

She shook her head and stepped back, her fingers still kneading his chest.

“I don’t want to get naked.” Her husky voice was an aphrodisiac in itself, and it took a second for Callum to realise what she’d said.

He cupped her cheek. It should be illegal to have skin that smooth. “Why not, darlin’?” He kept his tone soft, letting her know that her answer mattered. That she mattered.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and for a second he thought she wouldn’t answer. “I know you think you’re damaged goods or something, but you aren’t. You’re a freaking Michelangelo sculpture. Seriously. There isn’t an ounce of fat on you. Everywhere I look there’s toned, carved muscle.” She looked up at him nervously. “I’m flabby. I have cellulite. And stretch marks.”

Callum blinked, trying to understand. “Isobel, I don’t have any legs.” Was she seriously self-conscious? With him?

She nodded at him, ever so serious. “You do. You have these kick-arse cyborg legs. You look like the Terminator. The Arnie one, with lots of muscle and that intense stare that scares the poop out of people.”

At the same time as her words astonished him, humbled him, they also made him want to laugh. “Poop? Kick-arse?” He shook his head. “There are some words you just shouldn’t say. They don’t sound right coming out of that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

She slapped his chest and instantly spread her fingers to soothe the sting. “I’m being serious. You look like a master artist carved you out of marble. I look like a toddler made me out of Play-Doh.”

He had to laugh. It rumbled out of him and astonished him at the same time. He never, in a million years, thought he’d be in the position of laughing while he bared his broken body and soul to a woman who mattered to him.

“You are a nut. I already saw you when you were in the shower.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t get a close-up look, and it only lasted a few seconds.”

“I can’t believe we’re arguing about this. Get undressed and I’ll make you feel good. I promise.” He injected the words with heavy sensuality, and watched as her eyes darkened and she swayed towards him.

“How about we do one thing at a time? Tonight, I got to see your bionic legs. Tomorrow, maybe you’ll take them off and let me see you without them. Then, in a month or two, if we’re still together…” She suddenly looked uncertain. “Are we together?”

“Bloody hell, woman, aye, we’re together.” What the hell was she thinking? That he’d let a one-night stand see him like this?

Instead of looking reassured, she frowned. “I’m not sure I can handle that. I don’t exactly have a good track record with relationships.”

“Neither do I.” He swallowed hard. “My wife walked out on me when I came home injured. She said it was because we’d grown apart and not because I didn’t have legs anymore. But her timing said something else. I think she liked the prestige, and the freedom, of being married to an SAS soldier who was away a lot of the time. The reality of dealing with an injured veteran who was home permanently was too much for her. You’re not the only one with a past full of broken relationships.”

Isobel’s eyes hardened. “Don’t take this as an insult, but your ex was a bitch.”

Callum barked out a laugh that surprised him. “You can talk. Yours is still messing with your life.” That took the humour out of the situation. He planned to deal with this problem for Isobel just as soon as he had a minute to spare. She wouldn’t be paying off her ex-husband’s loan and she wouldn’t be acting as a punching bag, or sex slave, for any man.

“You look scary.” She traced the design of his Celtic knot tattoo.

“I am scary, darlin’. Make no mistake about that.”

“Not to me.” She seemed very confident of that, and he liked it.

“Never to you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Now get undressed.”

“I don’t want to. Really. How about I just take off my knickers and bend over?”

“And they say romance is dead.” He started to laugh again. It’d been years since he’d laughed this much, if ever. It was a gift. One of many this incredible woman had given him.

“I’m serious here.” She pouted at him. “You aren’t taking me seriously.”

She opened her mouth to protest some more, but Callum silenced her with a kiss. From his limited experience with Isobel, once she let the need take her away, she wouldn’t give a damn about her cellulite. Crazy woman. She was beautiful. Possibly a little on the blind side if she thought he was a work of art, but she was still a miracle to him.

Isobel knew she was pathetic, but there was no way she was stripping in front of a man who could model for a romance book cover. Nope. Not happening. Never.

She knew what she looked like. Her skin was so pasty white it was practically blue. There were white stripes on her belly—her very soft, rounded belly. Her hips didn’t gently curve out from her waist, they lurched out, like two skin-coloured saddlebags. The only time she experienced a thigh gap was when she spread her legs. And she could store a pencil under her saggy boobs—she’d tried after she’d seen it mentioned in a sitcom. If there was any muscle definition on her body, she had yet to find it. And then there was her cellulite. It looked like someone had taken a cheese grater to her backside.

There was no way she’d stack up compared to Callum. He might be missing his feet, but the rest of him was perfection.

“New plan,” Callum said with a glint in his eye. “I’ll do the undressing. You just hang on for the ride.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen, and she opened her mouth to tell him so. She never got a chance, because Callum had apparently tired of talking and jumped straight to kissing. Which was a problem, because when Callum kissed her, the only thought in her head was more.

The kiss was deep and hard and long. His hands threaded in her hair, holding her, keeping her in place. Isobel felt like she was spiralling up into the atmosphere. Her feet were no longer on the ground. And the only thing keeping her from floating away entirely was Callum’s hold.

His hands slid down over her shoulders and back, pressing her into him. She felt every single inch of his firm frame. And she desperately needed more. A moan of delight escaped when his hands slipped under the hem of her shirt and she could feel his fingers on her skin. They weren’t soft. They were the hands of a man who worked. And the rasp of that roughness against her skin was deeply erotic.

“Off,” he said against her lips, and she vaguely registered he meant her shirt.

“I don’t want to be naked.”

“We’ll leave your socks on.”

That suddenly seemed like a really good compromise. Isobel lifted her arms for him to whisk the shirt away and toss it onto the floor. A second later, her breasts pressed against that miraculous chest of his. Her sensitive nipples registered the rasp of the smattering of hair across his pecs. It was delicious.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he growled, and then strong arms lifted her.

His lips were on her throat. His tongue laved at her skin. His teeth nipped little stinging bites. Isobel grasped his hair and held him to her. She felt the soft sheets at her back. Felt Callum’s weight come down on top of her. She heard a drawer open and close, but Callum’s weight never shifted from her. She hoped it never would. She was lost, delirious with his touch.

Hands on her breasts, kneading, caressing, teasing. His lips followed. She spread her legs and lifted her hips. Cold metal against her thighs was one more layer of sensation that made up the maelstrom that engulfed her.

Her fingers dug into muscles with very little give. Each flex beneath her touch drove her higher. She wanted to touch every single inch of him. Taste him. Nibble at him. His tongue made swirls on her stomach.

“Love these marks. They’re your tattoos.” He kissed along the stretch marks she bore from her pregnancies.

She heard ripping and realised her underwear was gone. He dipped his head lower, spreading her legs wider and kissing her most intimate of places, lapping at her with his tongue, teasing her with his teeth, driving her out of her mind with need.

“Callum, now,” she demanded, tugging at his shoulders, trying to make him come up over her. Make him cover her. Make him fill her.

“Not yet.” He continued teasing her most sensitive spot.

Isobel panted, desperate for him. “Callum. In me. Now!”

He chuckled, a darkly wicked sound that made her even hungrier for him.

“Not yet.”

“If you don’t get inside me now, I’m going to scream.”

Her muscles were tight. Her toes were tingling. She needed him now.

“You’re going to scream anyway.” He sucked her clit and flicked his tongue over it.

Everything stopped. Froze. Suspended in the atmosphere. And then she was plummeting. Gasping for air. Feeling the rush of the earth coming straight at her.

She vaguely recognised the sound of plastic ripping and knew Callum had remembered to protect them. Then the thought was gone, because Callum was leaning into her.

Cool metal rubbed against her thighs. Warm muscle settled over her. He licked up her throat and she felt the head of his erection press into her. Too slow. Far too slow. She fought against her heavy muscles to wrap her legs around him, pulling him to her in one desperate jerk. They moaned as one as they slammed together.

“Woman, you need to learn patience.”

Isobel licked at his chest and tested the firmness with her teeth. He filled her, stretching her in a way that only he could. She never wanted it to end. She wanted to be locked with him forever.

“Vixen,” he whispered against her ear, making her shiver.

And then he was moving. Long, slow, powerful thrusts that made her lose all coherent thought. This time, they flew together.