Twisted in Tulips by Nikki Duncan Page B

of her lacy bra.
    “She’s still my mom, and thanks to you we’ve had the chance to talk and come to a truce.” She untucked his shirt. When her fingers brushed his undershirt he wished for the first time he’d forgone the extra barrier.
    “How’d I do that?” He worked another button free so she was exposed to her navel.
    “You made me realize I was using my appearance as a weapon. While I do love my clothes and the way they make me feel they’re no longer a defensive wall against my mom.” She popped his wrist buttons free.
    “So you won’t be changing the way you dress?” Jace pulled her blouse from her skirt and pushed it off her shoulders. It pooled at her feet in a satiny puddle that looked equally as soft as her skin felt.
    “No.” She pulled his dress shirt over his head so he stood before her in a long-sleeve, tight fitting undershirt. “You have to bake in this many layers.”
    “Good, and I’m used to it.” He shrugged and traced her bra, the top swell of her breasts. His dick pleaded for freedom. For action.
    “You don’t have to hide your arm from me, Jace.” Misty kissed him just above the neckline of his shirt. “You’ve shared so much of yourself with me, shown me the beauty of your spirit.”
    His cheeks heated. The frou-frou talk had him wanting to roll his eyes, yet at the same moment she thrilled him.
    “I hope you’ll trust me with all of yourself.” She pulled the neck of his shirt down some and kissed a little lower. “Besides, I’d like to see, taste, the body you hide under here.”
    Unexpectedly, a boisterous laugh rumbled up and lightened him. She’d gone from gooey emotion to fun flirtation in a flash. In that same flash he’d gone from reluctant to willing, even eager, to share all of himself.
    “You’re the only one I could trust.” With his heart at peace he stepped back, pulled the hem of his shirt from his pants, tugged the fabric up and over his head.
     
    Statue still, Jace stood exposed to her. Pleased with the gift he’d just granted, she ran her hand over his pale skin. The breadth of his shoulders, the size of his biceps, didn’t surprise her. The definition of the muscles spanning his torso, abs, and arms didn’t surprise her. She’d felt him. Imagined him.
    His left arm wasn’t what she’d pictured, though she wasn’t entirely sure what that was. A little below his elbow his prosthetic seemed to just sit there. Questions about how it worked, how he controlled the hook, how it attached flitted through her mind. Following those came the curiosity of how it felt, if it hurt or was hot or itchy.
    While she wanted to know all the answers, she didn’t need them now. Rather than ask, she used the moment to show him he’d been right to trust her, because wound or no wound he was a gorgeous man.
    Misty trailed her hand down his arm and followed the path with gentle kisses until she was kneeling at his side. The skin puckered around the edge of the prosthetic joint. When she kissed him there he shook with the force of an indrawn breath.
    “Jace.” She stood again and kissed his cheek. “You’re the amazing one.”
    “What I am,” he grumbled as he pulled her back in front of him, “is growing impatient.”
    Misty wasn’t sure when they’d moved from the middle of all the vased tulips, but her back bumping a table stunned her. His forearms grasping her hips, lifting her to the table stunned her more. And excited her.
    Her heart raced with the thrill of his passion. He’d offered himself to her, holding nothing back. He’d viewed his arm as a barrier when it made him uniquely beautiful. Misty wiggled as he shoved her skirt up to her waist. “Have you noticed how one of us always seems to keep something on during sex?”
    “We’ll fix that next time.”
    “Okay.” She reached for his pants and freed him.
    Always prepared, he pulled a condom from his pocket. Misty took the package and ripped it open. Eager to feel him she sheathed