Page 58 of Loving London

“As I was of you, but now, we’re both walking with our heads held high. We’re proud of ourselves. That’s kinda great, you know?”

I nod. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“Now that I’ve got you back, I’m never going to let you go.” She smiles, and another small tear rolls down her cheek.

“I’m going to hold you to that.” I let out a sigh. “’Cause, you see, London, I’m always going to be imperfect in more ways than one.”

“And I’m going to love you, imperfections and all, for the rest of my life.”

I don’t know who leans in first, but our lips find each other, and we kiss again. The kiss is smooth and sweet. It’s packed with love and loss, desperation and hope. I can taste the saltiness of London’s tears as my mouth continues to move against hers.

I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love her, and I know I never will.

Maybe she’s right. This time apart has made us into better versions of ourselves so that we can truly give each other everything we have.

The kiss goes on for so long that it’s all I feel. Every ounce of energy I have is put into it.

Breaths. Tongues. Lips. Desire.

I worship this woman. I don’t know what I did to deserve her love, but I’m never going to deny myself again.

London pulls away. My mouth is cold without hers.

“I need you, Loïc.”

My muscles tighten with her words. I want to be inside her more than anything. Yet, in order to do that, I’m going to have to face a deep fear.

London senses my hesitation. She kisses me on the forehead and rolls away from me. She gets off the bed and walks around it. “Sit up, please,” she says sweetly.

I do as she asked. I sit on the edge of the bed, my feet touching the ground, and I face her. I watch in amazement as she unzips the back of her sundress and lets it fall to the floor. With one flick of her hand behind her back, her bra joins the dress. Finally, she steps out of her panties.

“This is me, all of me, wanting all of you.” She takes a step toward me.

I reach my hands out and hold her hips. Pulling her against me, I rub my nose along her stomach.

“You’re so soft,” I say as my hands glide up and down her satin skin.

“Let me help you, Loïc,” she says as she starts to unbutton my shirt.

My heart accelerates. My body is a ball of nerves.

She pulls off my shirt and then my undershirt, leaving my chest bare. Her hands roam down to loosen my belt buckle and then my pants.

“Lean back, Loïc,” she whispers.

I do as she said.

She grabs ahold of my pants and boxers and begins to shimmy them down my hips. I feel the fabric move down my pelvis and to my thighs, and I hold my breath as she pulls them past my knee and to my ankles.

My heart beats so wildly beneath my chest that I’m sure she can hear it. I’m lying here, naked and exposed.

“Can you take it off?” She nervously searches my eyes, motioning toward the metal leg.

“I don’t have to.”

“I want you to,” she pleads gently.

I pull off my prosthesis and let it drop to the ground.

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