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“Shit!” I take the towel and wave it around. Seconds later, Tristan takes the pan off the burner before turning it off. He grabs the towel from my hand and waves it under the detector.
My breathing picks up as he frantically opens the patio door to try to clear the house.
“Are you okay?” He stands in front of me, placing his palms on my shoulders. The temperature in the room grows hotter, but not because of the burnt food.
“Besides proving I’m a horrible cook, yes.”
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of this.” He pats my arm, then cleans up.
I hate that he has to take care of it like I’m an incompetent child. He probably didn’t mean it that way but that’s how it made me feel.
Taking a seat at the breakfast bar, I watch him move flawlessly around the kitchen as he remakes my sandwich. I stare at his leg, wondering how it feels to walk on a prosthetic and how he looks so natural.
“You have questions,” he states in his deep baritone, but it’s without judgment.
My gaze runs up his body, and I realize he caught me staring. I swallow hard and sit up straighter.
There’s one question in particular that I’m curious about, and while I doubt he’ll answer, I’m going for it. “How do you have sex?”
He blinks at me, his deadpan expression not giving his thoughts away. Out of all the questions in the world, I don’t think he expected me to ask that.
“What?” he finally asks.
“Like do you keep it on? Do you take it off? How…do you have sex being an amputee?”
Tristan turns around, facing the stove, then returns with my sandwich. He hands over the plate, and I thank him.
“Well, it’s not much different. How do you have sex not being an amputee?”
Him spinning the question around was unexpected. My face heats, and I’m positive my cheeks are blood red.
“Umm…well.” I chew on my bottom lip, trying to form words that won’t make it obvious I haven’t actually had sex. “I guess that’s fair.”
Tristan’s eyes narrow as if he can hear my thoughts and his lips twist with amusement.
“Shut up,” I groan, picking up my sandwich, then taking a bite. “I can’t help that it was my first thought when I saw you naked without a leg.” I shrug, hoping he doesn’t notice how flushed I am.
It wasn’t just the leg that caught my eye, but everything below his waist.
“I have plenty of leg to use, I’m just missing below my knee, but regardless, everything down there still works as it should.” There’s a hint of something in his tone as if to say he’s not restricted in any regard.
“Okay, well, my curiosity thanks you for appeasing me.”
“No problem.” He taps his knuckles on the counter. “If you need a sex education book, just let me know, and I’ll add it to Easton’s list.”
My jaw drops at his taunting voice, and the fire in his eyes tells me that he’s read between the lines.
I’m a virgin, and now he fucking knows it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TRISTAN
DAY 10
Another sleepless night haunts me as I struggle with the pain, something that can’t be cured by surgery or pain meds, something that’s been my demise for the past decade.
It’s after one in the morning, but I go through the process of putting on my prosthesis, then slip on my jeans and holster before walking downstairs. Almost every night is like clockwork, the pain wakes me up from a deep sleep, and I have to find ways to manage it so I can eventually go back to sleep.
Once I’m in the kitchen, I heat the kettle, then make a cup of tea. I typically drink it to help me relax. After I add some honey, I notice a glow coming from the living room. After Piper went to bed, I did a perimeter check, triple-checked that all the doors and windows were locked, then turned off everything.
Quietly, I set down my mug and pull out one of my guns. Stepping out of the kitchen, I walk to the living room, and peek around. The lamp next to the couch is on, but I don’t see anything else out of the ordinary.
“Hey.”
I spin around, pointing the barrel directly in Piper’s face. She ducks, and I quickly lower it.
“Jesus Christ. What are you doing in here?” I holster the weapon and stare at her.
“Me? What are you doing? Other than trying to kill me.”
“I was making tea when I noticed the light was on and wanted to make sure no one was in the house,” I explain. “Why’re you up?”
She shrugs. “I was restless. Decided to have a snack and read a little, then I had to use the bathroom. The next thing I see is you pointing a gun in my face.”
“I’m sorry, but you caught me off guard. You should know better than to sneak up on me.”
