Danny stroked his hands down Catie’s sides, ran his thumbs over the sleek architecture of her abdomen, her musculature a testament to her dedication to her sport. He fucking loved the feel of her, the strength of her. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Catie.” He glared at her. “I can’t believe you made that come out of my mouth.”

She glared back at him. “Your abs are ridiculous.” A poke at his gut. “An actual eight-pack? Seriously?”

Then they were both laughing because they were ridiculous, and a second later, he was all tangled up in her mouth again, and it was so good. Like ice cream and chocolate sundaes and fudge brownies and caramel cupcakes with pecan sugar frosting. Delicious and decadent and making him crave more and still more.

Groaning, he stroked his hands down her back, all the way to her very fine butt. When she didn’t try to unman him for daring to touch her there, he squeezed and stroked and learned the shape of her.

Her hands, meanwhile, were all over him, and he loved it.

But when she slipped her fingertips underneath the waistband of his shorts to brush against his buttocks, he pulled back. “Can we do it here?” he asked, his breath so shallow he had trouble forming words. “I mean, against the wall?” Catie had a thing about being picked up and lifted without permission—he’d learned that years back.

She stared at him. “You want to?”

“Hell yeah. It’d be hot as hell to have you wrapped around me.”

A pause before she said, “Yes, but I should get the protection now.”

Catie felt off-center, unbalanced, and it had nothing to do with her legs. While she hadn’t run riot through the ranks like Danny, she’d had more than just Ward as a lover. All the men with whom she’d chosen to share her body, Ward included, had treated her well in bed, but none of them had ever been so hot for her that they’d suggested impulsive up-against-the-wall sex.

There’d always been a subtle element of “looking after” her that had frustrated her. Because she wasn’t made of cold iron and baby Catie had liked those young men, she’d allowed that type of thing to pass at the start of her first physical relationships—back when she’d been nineteen, twenty. She’d figured they’d chill once they got used to her prostheses, realized she wasn’t breakable.

It hadn’t happened. So she’d walked away. Catie refused to be with anyone who saw her prostheses first and her second.

Ward had been her first and worst mistake as a full-fledged adult—because she hadn’t been expecting his idiocy. He was an amputee himself, after all. He’d also been a flat-out charmer at first. She’d gone giggly with excitement, telling Veni that she might’ve finally hit the jackpot.

Ugh.