She's blushing and smiling, her hair mussed from the couch and eyes radiant.
We hurry down to my room. I open the door and lock it automatically before tugging her towards the promised couch. The fireplace in here is lit as well, and I stop before it, facing her.
"You doing okay?" I ask and pull her into my arms.
She smiles up at me. "Best day ever, Petr."
"You haven't seen my leg yet," I half-joke, immediately hating the note of uncertainty in my tone.
"Petr," she says. "You're not worried about me rejecting you because of your leg, are you?"
"Nah." But I look away a little too quick. She's smart enough to catch it.
"You are," Claudia murmurs. "Why?"
I try to shrug it off. "A couple bad experiences with women."
She rises on her tiptoes and plants a light kiss on my lips. "Show me."
"Now?"
"You were planning on taking your pants off tonight, weren't you?" she retorts coolly.
I laugh.
"Show me." Claudia moves out of my grip and steps away, the look on her face one she uses with Todd.
"All right." My hands are clammy as I unbutton my jeans. "You may see more than my leg," I say with a grin, unable to control the erection straining my jeans.
She glances down and turns pink, then smiles. "Strip, Petr."
"Yes, ma'am."
I lean down to untie my shoes and nudge them off then push my jeans to the floor. The single, tiny button on my boxers is thus far managing to contain my arousal.
Her eyes go from it with a wicked grin to my leg, and she grows thoughtful. The prosthetic's combination of skin-toned rubber and metal doesn't fool anyone. A prototype, it was designed for function rather than to be aesthetically pleasing.
"Oh, Petr," she murmurs at last.
"Might as well show you the full effect," I grunt. Peeling off my sweater and t-shirt, I turn my back to her. "The blast hit me from behind. No scars on my chest but my back was tore up pretty bad."
My heart is pounding. This is where I struck out twice with two different women over the past year. The leg shocked them; the knotted, gnarly scars across my back did them in. It didn't matter I have washboard abs and an upper body chiseled in the gym. They'd been unable to get over the fact I'm not a full man anymore and what remains of me is badly damaged.
When she touches my back, I flinch, not expecting her soft, cool hands on my skin. She traces the scars and runs her hands over my back before sliding in front of me. There are tears in her eyes that make me almost curse.