Chapter 17
Ophelia was bone-weary by the time they made it back home. She stumbled over the threshold, and Sam caught her by the arm, steadying her a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, bracing herself against the wall so she could pull off her shoes and put them in the sanitizer. He followed suit, setting his new boots next to her sneakers.
Why did that touch her heart so deeply?
When he reached around her from behind to slide his fingers into the lapel of her coat, she sighed, letting him drag the heavy fabric off her shoulders.
“You should rest,” he said, breath stirring her hair to tickle her neck.
She rubbed her hand over the tingling spot. “Yeah, you’re probably—”
Her phone buzzed insistently from her coat pocket.
“Oh!” She reached in, fishing for it. When she pulled it free, dismay washed over her.
Well? What did he say?
Just a text from her mother. Holding the phone, she realized that she’d completely forgotten to text Logan earlier to check in.
With a sigh, she leaned heavily against the wall. She dismissed the notification from her mother, pulling up her message thread with Logan.
Just checking in. Is everything going okay? Are you getting enough rest?
There was a faint, familiar ping from their bedroom. For a moment, she thought it might be Logan. She crossed the hall expectantly, only to realize that his shoes were still gone and the room was untouched from how she’d left it.
With a sigh, she set about her routine. She wiped her phone, showered, and changed into her at-home clothes before she could allow herself to indulge in the rest she desperately needed.
When she emerged from the steamy bathroom, she was startled by Sam in that chair in the corner of the room, lounging arrogantly.
Her stomach flip-flopped at the sight of that chair now, unable to look at it without recalling how Logan had sat there and asked her to let the android have sex with her for his entertainment.
Now it was the android sprawling there, watching her from beneath his dark lashes as though he expected a show, as well.
“What are you doing?” she asked, hurling a damp towel at his head. “You scared the hell out of me.”
He caught it in mid-air and pressed his nose to it, breathing deeply. His pupils blew wide, making her heart flutter.
“Stop that,” she snapped.
Obediently, he lowered the towel into his lap. “Get into bed, Ophelia.”
She frowned. “You’re the robot. I’m the one who’s supposed to do the ordering.”
He made a vaguely purring sound. “Do you want to order me around?”
He leaned back in the chair with a creak of wood, his knees spread wide, and the towel obscuring his lap. “Go ahead. What’s my first command?”
Her cheeks heated, and she turned away. “Stop being… slutty.”
He boomed with laughter. “I’m not sure I can comply.”
She huffed at him, rolling her eyes. Just when she was about to rebuke him further, her phone pinged with a message—and it was echoed by another device in the room.
Looking down at the screen, she realized Logan had finally texted her back.
Sorry, baby, I’ve been slammed. It looks like it’s going to be another all-nighter. Are you doing okay? How is the bot behaving? I know he must be underfoot. I’ll take him back soon.
Her heart flip-flopped as she stole a glance at Sam.
His face had hardened, and he was scrutinizing her in the unsettling, intense way he often did.
The thought of him going back to the lab made her stomach sick.
She wasn’t ready for him to leave. In the short time he’d been with her, she’d come to find his presence… comforting.
Maybe she’d been lonely all this time. Terribly, painfully lonely but so numb to it that she’d hardly noticed. It was easy to be with Sam, even with his endless teasing and sexual innuendo. What did it say about her that she finally felt seen by someone, and that someone was a robot?
Pressing her phone to her chest, she tore her gaze away. The chair gave a small protest as he stood up behind her.
“What is it?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just Logan.”
A protest squeaked from her lips as he reached around her and plucked the phone out of her hands.
“Hey!”
He held it over her head as he read the message, eyes narrowing.
“Sam, give it back. Are you insane?”
“Yes,” he said placidly, typing something rapid-fire.
“Are you texting him? Stop that!”
He let her snatch the phone back, but only after he’d sent the message. The hidden device pinged again.
Everything is fine. Take all the time you need. No rush to take the android back. Actually, I was thinking maybe we could find a way to keep him.
“You—” She blinked up at him, gobsmacked, expecting him to be giving her one of those goofy grins. Instead, he was staring down at her with a terrifying intensity that stole her breath.
Her phone pinged in time with that device again, dragging her attention away.
Keep him? Seriously?
She didn’t reply, at a loss for words.
Yes, she wanted to type.
But how could she? There was no way they could afford the android, even if she wanted to keep him, and though it scared her to admit it, she was dubious of her own intentions with him.
Even if Logan was okay with the idea of her having sex with Sam, it still felt weird to her.
Unfaithful, somehow. Maybe she wasn’t hardwired to be comfortable having those kinds of experiences.
She felt guilty for appreciating Sam as much as she did, like she was a bad partner for holding them up next to each other and finding Logan lacking in any way.
Another ping made her look down at her phone, but it didn’t light up. Another ping, then another.
She and Sam met eyes briefly.
Wordlessly, she turned away and followed the muffled notification sound around the room.
It led her to the dresser, and when she got down on her knees, she saw Logan’s holopad light up from beneath its depths.
Muttering a curse, she got down on her hands and knees and ducked beneath it, straining to reach the holopad where it was propped against the wall.
Her fingers had just brushed the edge of it, knocking it down into easier reach, when a hand smoothed over the globe of her ass. She yelped, banging her head hard against the dresser as she scrambled out from beneath it.
Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed behind her with a hungry look in his eyes, and his long legs sprawled out beside her.
“What the hell?” She winced as she touched the welt throbbing on the back of her skull.
“I apologize,” he said insincerely, eyes taking in her bare legs and her rucked-up pajama shorts. “It was an impulse.”
“You’re a robot! You can’t have impulses.” I think. She was no longer sure what the rules were after the behavior he’d been exhibiting. “God, I think I have a concussion.”
“Let me see.” He grabbed her by her shoulders before she could protest, dragging her closer and resting her chin on his thickly muscled thigh as he parted her hair.
“It’s just a small bump. But for your trouble…
” He bent over and pressed a kiss to the spot.
“There. Human superstition suggests that kisses heal small injuries, yes?”
“Yes,” she murmured, pulling away. “But I’m still mad at you.”
He flashed an unrepentant grin and surprised her by lowering himself to the floor and reaching beneath the dresser.
His shirt rode up, and the back of his pants gaped open as he lowered his chest to the floor.
For a moment, she couldn’t fault him for feeling compelled to caress her.
Her thoughts were far raunchier as his hips shifted, flashing more of the muscles of his back.
She looked away quickly, trying to act casual as he crawled back out, but when he didn’t offer the holopad to her, curiosity drove her gaze back to him. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he looked down at the holopad.
When she reached for it, he rose abruptly to his feet, pacing away from her.
“What are you doing?” She pushed herself to her feet and pursued him, following him into the living room. “Sam, give me the holopad.”
He was making her uneasy—though, when wasn’t he, really? Everything about him was a little unsettling. He was too real, too emotional, too raw. When he acted erratically, like he was now, it made it even harder to remember he wasn’t a person.
“No.”
“What? You can’t tell me no. Give it to me right now.”
“No,” he repeated, avoiding her gaze. “I need to think about this. I’m not sure if… I don’t know how you’re going to react.”
React to what? Her stomach turned.
She reached for the electronic, and he held it up above her head, just like he had with the phone.
“Oh, you fucking streetlamp of a man,” she growled, hopping and reaching for it.
He just rose up onto his toes, putting it out of her reach.
“Give me the holopad, you giraffe!”
“No. Leave it be. I have to think.”
“You leave it be!” She was starting to feel childish. “Why are you being so”—she hopped fruitlessly—“weird right now?”
“You don’t want to see what’s on this.”
Her frustration only mounted.
She jumped up onto the couch and then launched herself at him, tackling him as she knocked the holopad from his hand.
He didn’t even grunt as she knocked him off balance, nearly making him bash his head against the TV stand as they went sprawling.
She rolled off of him and scrambled toward the holopad, but he grabbed onto her ankle and dragged her backwards, rucking her shirt up until her ribs were bared.
She kicked at him, growling in frustration, but he was unaffected by the blow.
He crawled over her, pinning her wrists above her head and trapping her with his weight against her back.
His erection pressed against her ass as he held her down.
To her frustration, his arousal was prompting her body to answer in kind.
Wetness flooded her panties as her nipples grew tight.
“Get off,” she said, the words muffled by the way her cheek was pressed against the rug.
“No.”
“I’m going to make Logan reprogram you. You won’t even be able to form a negative statement anymore!”
He leaned down and nuzzled her cheek with his own, pushing her hair out of her face. “Fine. Just leave the holopad alone.”
She panted, catching her breath as she chewed on what he was saying. “There’s something on the holopad that you think will hurt me.”
“Yes.”
Her heart clenched. Suspicions that she kept under tight rein whispered across her consciousness all at once. “Let me up, Sam.”
For a moment, she was sure he was going to continue to refuse, but his grip on her loosened, and he shifted his weight off her. Gingerly, she pulled herself up onto her knees. He sat behind her, shoulders hunched, with his arms resting on his knees.
“Look, then, if you must,” he whispered.