Chapter 10 Lex #2
“Acting on the supposition he is, would he be capable of developing a comprehensive AI-weapons system?”
Her eyebrows flashed. “Capable? I suppose so.” For the next hour, Dr. McLaren proved why she’d been the foremost AI ethics expert in SIS, maybe even in all the world. Her knowledge of the neural network design was mind-boggling, and her analysis of Orlov’s previous work incisive.
“As you know, Viktor was brilliant but entirely lacking a moral code,” she explained, spreading diagrams across the table. “His approach to recursive learning algorithms was revolutionary, but he rejected the ethical constraints as ‘limitations on evolution,’ as he put it.”
“Were you able to review the transcripts from Nightingale’s interview?” I asked.
Dr. McLaren’s expression grew serious. “I have done, and if Orlov—or someone else—is pursuing true autonomous integration, he’s attempting something most researchers consider impossible.” She shook her head. “The computational requirements alone would exceed most current hardware capabilities.”
“But if he had access to specialized neural processors?” Con asked, leaning forward.
“Even then, full autonomy without human oversight mechanisms is a pipe dream.” Her dismissal seemed confident, yet something in her expression gave me pause. “Besides, the ethical implications alone would prevent any major world power from deploying such a system.”
“Fallon Wallace and Tower-Meridian weren’t concerned with ethics,” Con pointed out.
“No, they weren’t,” Dr. McLaren conceded.
“But there’s a vast difference between designing a weapon with limited autonomous capabilities and creating a truly independent system.
” She gathered her notes. “I’d be happy to review any technical specifications you uncover.
Orlov’s work was distinctive—I could identify his fingerprints if you find concrete examples. ”
By the time we concluded our meeting, the sky had darkened further, heavy clouds promising an imminent downpour. Con and I thanked Dr. McLaren and hurried toward his vehicle, making it barely halfway across the courtyard before the heavens opened.
The rain fell in sheets, instantly soaking through our clothing.
Con grabbed my hand, and we ran the remaining distance, laughing despite—or perhaps because of—the absurdity of our situation.
By the time we reached the SUV, we were both drenched, my blouse clinging to my skin even under my coat, his hair plastered to his forehead.
“The weather couldn’t have held off for two more minutes?” He shook his hair as he started the engine.
“Clearly not,” I replied, attempting to wring water from my sleeve with little success. “My laptop bag is waterproof, thank God, but the rest of me is a lost cause.”
Con glanced over, his eyes darkening as they traced the outline of my body beneath the sodden clothing. I met his gaze directly, and his eyebrows flashed like Dr. McLaren’s had, although for an entirely different reason.
The drive back to Blackmoor seemed interminable, tension building with each kilometer. When we finally arrived, Con parked haphazardly near the entrance and we both emerged into the continuing downpour. Halfway to the door, he caught my hand, pulling me to a stop.
Rain streamed down his face as he looked at me, his blue eyes intense. Without a word, he leaned down and captured my lips with his. The kiss was hunger unleashed, his hands threading through my wet hair as mine gripped his shoulders.
When we broke apart, both breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against mine. “We should get out of these wet clothes,” he suggested, his voice rough.
He led me inside but not to my suite. I followed him into his bedroom, where he opened a wardrobe and withdrew a thick robe in deep navy blue.
“Here,” he said, handing it to me. “You can, err, change in the bathroom if you’d like.”
I took the soft, luxurious robe, holding it close to my body as much for warmth as for anything else. An unbidden thought crossed my mind—who else had worn this? Had Fallon wrapped herself in this same fabric after sharing his bed?
As if reading my thoughts, Con cupped my cheek, his eyes meeting mine. “It’s yours,” he said softly. “No one else’s.”
The simplicity of his statement washed away my insecurity. I slipped into the bathroom, peeling off my wet clothing and drying myself with a plush towel before wrapping the robe around me.
When I emerged, the flames of the fire he’d lit cast flickering shadows across the room. From where he stood near the window, I saw he’d changed into dry trousers and a simple white shirt, its top buttons undone.
“I asked Mrs. Thorne to prepare a casual dinner,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind if we remain in here while we eat.”
“Not at all.”
We sat on the floor before the fire on cushions arranged in a makeshift dining area. Con poured us each a glass of wine, in what was quickly becoming the most romantic night of my life.
“What did you make of Dr. McLaren’s assessment?” he asked, passing me a glass.
“Her dismissal of AIWS seemed too absolute,” I admitted. “I’d say it wasn’t like her, but it’s one of the things we often disagreed about.”
“I thought the same.” He took a sip of wine, his eyes never leaving mine. “The question is why.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to consider the worst-case scenario.” I set my glass next to his on the hearth. “We should compile a list of potential—”
My words cut off as Con leaned forward and kissed me, gently at first, then with growing intensity. The discussion of Labyrinth faded to insignificance as his hands framed my face, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones.
“I can’t count the number of times today I wanted to take you in my arms,” he confessed against my lips.
“I wanted you to,” I whispered back, my hands finding the buttons of his shirt.
We abandoned our dinner, wine forgotten as our clothing was discarded piece by piece. Con’s body was a revelation—broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, muscles defined but not excessive, the picture of a man who maintained his physical condition as meticulously as his technological expertise.
His hands found the belt of my robe, pausing at the knot. “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice husky.
In answer, I untied it myself, letting it fall open. His sharp intake of breath was gratifying, his eyes darkening as they traveled over me.
“You’re extraordinary,” he said, lowering me gently onto the blanket spread out on the floor.
What followed was exploration and discovery, his hands and mouth learning every curve and hollow of my body as mine mapped the contours of his.
“Lex—” Whereas before he’d asked directly, now he seemed to be waiting for me to speak first.
“I want to be with you, Con,” I said, not wanting to waste time. We were both adults, lying naked side by side. Now was hardly the time to change our minds, not that I would’ve.
Rather than respond with words, he lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bed where I’d slept beside him.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, pulling a condom from the bedside drawer and eyeing me through heavy, dark lashes. “Everything about you…”
“Con, please.” I reached for him, longing to feel his skin against mine again.
Setting the packet on the bed, he leaned forward, weighing the heavy flesh of my breasts with both hands. My need for him intensified when he brushed his thumbs over my hardened nipples.
“The scent of your desire is intoxicating,” he said, bringing his mouth where his fingers were, then closing it around one nipple.
I gasped when the fingers of his other hand moved between my legs, pushing them open before cupping me.
“You’re so wet.” His voice was hoarse when his fingers penetrated me.
My body writhed. “I ache for you, Con.”
“I cannot wait any longer.” He tore the packet open, sheathed his hardness, then settled himself between my thighs. When he pressed against me, I knew my body would adjust and accept him, but I flinched nonetheless at his size.
“Do you trust me, Lex?”
My eyes met his. “I do.”
“I won’t hurt you.” He eased the tip in just a little, then reached between us, finding my clit and toying with it until I nearly came.
I whimpered when he moved his hand away and eased his cock deeper at the same time he lowered his mouth and teased my breast before sucking it again. He let it go with a pop, then thrust hard inside me.
“We were made for this. You and me. A perfect fit.”
His words melted me from the inside out, and tears filled my eyes. I pushed away the thoughts of him saying that to any other woman and focused on how right he was.
Con began to move, filling and stretching me, each stroke deliberate.
I lifted my hips, meeting his thrusts, moving with him until we reached a frantic pace, pounding against each other.
His fingers found my nub again, and with a cry, I shattered in his arms as though the pleasure was so intense that I’d break apart.
He held me, wrapping one arm under my arched back as he thrust again and again.
His body stiffened, and he threw his head back, pressing deep inside me once more before I could feel him pulsing inside me as the rest of him stilled.
He braced himself on his elbow, and our eyes met.
The connection I felt then was so far beyond physical pleasure.
The sensation of how right he was, how perfect we were together, was overwhelming.
When he eased himself from inside me, I whimpered again, this time at the emptiness I felt. He disposed of the condom, then gathered me in his arms, kissing me passionately as our hands renewed their exploration.
With the fire crackling near us, I traced circles on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. Whatever complications tomorrow might bring—Labyrinth, Unit 23, the mysterious threats—in this moment, there was only Con and me, intertwined in the ember’s glow.
I had no illusions that this solved anything.
Our professional tensions would resurface.
The threats surrounding us remained. But for now, in the sanctuary of his bedroom, I allowed myself to simply be a woman in the arms of a man who had somehow worked his way into my heart, something I couldn’t bring myself to regret.