Page 72 of Stolen Kiss

He opened the lid and plopped me down on the seat. I looked down at the hem of his shirt I was wearing. I pulled it down even more.

“Do you need any help taking off your panties?” he asked.

“No, of course not!” My eyes widened in surprise and I looked back up at him, forgetting for a moment to feel self-conscious.

He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. I let out an exasperated sigh. “A little privacy would be nice.”

He looked like he was about to argue with me, but I hardened my eyes to let him know I wasn’t budging on this.

Jensen rolled his eyes and walked out of the bathroom, though I noticed he didn’t close the bathroom door all the way.

Great.

Another overprotective, overbearing man.

I knew he hadn’t gone far. He was probably standing right outside the door, waiting for me to finish.

I softly sang a Britney Spears song while I did my business, then I cleaned up, braced myself against the wall, stood, and pulled my panties back on.

Sure enough, as soon as I flushed the toilet, the bathroom door opened and Jensen had me back in his arms.

He stopped by the sink to let me wash my hands before walking out of the bathroom and turning off the light.

He placed me in the center of the bed and I hurried off to the side. I watched him get in on the other side of the bed and under the covers.

He pulled the covers up my body, then wrapped his arms around my waist.

I stayed tense in his arms.

“Just go to sleep, baby.”

“How do you just expect me to sleep?”

“Why not?”

I didn’t know how to answer him, so I said nothing.

He let out a small sigh. “I don’t care about your leg.”

He said it so casually, I wanted to cry.

Did he really not care that I wasn’t exactly a whole person? Was he not disgusted?

I blinked away the sudden moisture buildup in my eyes, and Jensen drew me closer to him, tucking my head in his chest.

He kissed my forehead. “You’re beautiful to me. I don’t care that you’re missing a limb. Understand? So there’s nothing to feel self-conscious about, or embarrassed about, because fuck, I can’t think of another woman who can turn me on the way you can.”

“I don’t know how,” I confessed quietly against his chest. His arms tightened around me. “I didn’t just lose my leg. I lost my identity. I spent my entire life being a ballerina. Now that I can’t be one anymore, I don’t know what I can be.”

“Just be Emilia. Be my Emilia. Okay?”

Be his Emilia. He said it like it was easy. Shouldn’t I try to belong to myself first before I belong to him? Was it bad that I just wanted to cling to him and never let go?

I took in a deep breath and burrowed closer in his chest. I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

He moved his hand up to my head, playing with my hair, helping me relax against him.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered softly.

So that was what I did.

I went to sleep.

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