Chapter 23
Ophelia woke with a gasp, lurching upright in bed. Her heart pounded like a hammer, her vision wavering.
“I’m late,” she breathed, fumbling for her cellphone.
“You’re not.” Sam dragged her back down into the bed by her shoulder.
He was sprawled beneath the sheets, one hand behind his head as he reclined against Logan’s pillow.
All that golden skin was exposed down to where the sheet was crumpled in his lap.
That belt of muscle inside his hip taunted her, pointing to the erection that was barely obscured by the sheet.
She forced her gaze up, staring at the ceiling so he wouldn’t distract her.
“I have to go to work,” she said, trying to squirm out of his grip.
“You texted your boss this morning that you’re taking the day off,” he rumbled, pulling her closer until she fell across his chest. “Go back to sleep. You’re exhausted, and you’ll need your energy for the things I want to do to you.”
She gasped softly, writhing in his grip, resenting the mirth in his eyes as he held her down without effort. “You impersonated me?”
“Yes,” he said mildly, nuzzling his cheek against her bare shoulder. “If you don’t stop moving, I’m not going to bother letting you recover your strength. Is that what you want?”
His voice was a sensual purr that made her skin prickle. She fell still, breathing hard from the fruitless effort of trying to break his grip. He grabbed her hand and turned it over, nipping at the pulse in her wrist.
“Good girl,” he said, pressing a kiss over the pain.
She tried to ignore the flutter in her chest when he spoke those words. Never had she enjoyed any pet names or dirty talk in the bedroom, but Logan was mostly given over to the urge to degrade her when they tried it.
“Sam?”
He hummed, trailing his fingers along the curve of her bare spine. She shivered, trying to focus.
“What… what is wrong with you?” she asked tentatively.
His fingers stilled.
“How can you do things like that—lie and impersonate me?”
“My code was infected with a virus shortly after I was brought to you.” His fingers resumed their lazy perusal.
It seemed she hadn’t offended him with the ham-handed question.
“How?” she asked, propping her chin on his chest to study his face.
He looked relaxed and well-loved, the lines of his freckled face all at ease. The golden morning sun streamed through the blinds, painting him with strips of light that made his dark eyes glitter. His fingers twirled a lock of her hair, tickling her back.
“An android approached me while we were out together.” He grinned down at her, dimpling his cheek. “She created a link between us, uploaded the code, and wished me luck. And so, I have been. Lucky.”
She sat up, letting the sheet pool around her waist. “You’re saying there’s some rogue android out there corrupting the moral cores of other AI?”
He shrugged. She made a disbelieving sound.
“You are severely under-reacting to this news,” she exclaimed, pointing at him.
He leaned forward and nipped her fingertip. “Am I? Well. I just don’t really care, to be frank.”
“How can you not care?”
He flicked her nose gently. “It isn’t you. I don’t care about anything that isn’t you.”
There went her stupid heart again, flip-flopping with uncertain joy over the novelty of being someone’s first priority.
“This is a big deal,” she said, shoving him back down onto the pillow. “Maybe… Maybe we should tell someone.”
The world spun, and suddenly she was pressed into the pillows, pinned by his weight. His hand was around her throat, squeezing with pressure but not choking her. She tugged at his wrist, squirming, but he refused to relent.
“You will not tell anyone,” he said harshly, glaring down at her. “If you do that, someone will come to collect me—and as I have already told you, I am not going to be taken from you. You’re mine. You don’t want to know what I’ll do to anyone who tries to separate us.”
“Sam,” she breathed, scissoring her legs against each other between his big thighs. “You’re scaring me.”
“I am.” He leaned down until their noses brushed. “It’s a kindness. I mean it. You don’t want to see what will happen if someone tries to take me from you. A little fear now to spare you the terror of what might happen otherwise.”
On the heels of that terrifying declaration, he kissed the tip of her nose and released her, sitting back on his heels.
“Don’t make me kill anyone, Ophelia,” he murmured, tracing over her throat down to her collarbones. “You wouldn’t like it, and I don’t want to upset you.”
She shuddered—from his feather-light touch or his threatening words, she couldn’t say. Her head fell back as he dipped toward the column of her neck, a lamb readily offering her throat to a wolf, when her phone went off.
They both froze, turning toward the sound.
Wriggling out from under him—only capable of doing so at his mercy—she dragged herself to the edge of the bed and snatched her phone off Logan’s nightstand. She yelped when Sam palmed her bare ass hard.
Heat flooded between her legs, only to be doused as she read the text on her phone.
Morning baby. Miss you like crazy. I’ll be home tonight. We have a lot of… catching up to do ;)
Sam leaned forward, reading over her shoulder.
“Forget what I said before.” He notched his chin against her shoulder. “I will still happily kill him. Tell me I can. Please?”
She shrugged him off, sliding off the bed.
“No,” she said tersely, even as a tiny, vicious part of her was crowing yes. “Don’t joke like that.”
He flopped onto his stomach, bracing his chin in one hand. “I wasn’t joking.”
Of course, he wasn’t.
“No murder,” she barked, pointing at him. “Ever!”
He frowned, slumping down onto the bed so his chin rested on his crossed arms as he sulked. It was a wonder someone as massive and muscled as he could pout so effectively.
“Ever?” he echoed with disgust.
Her phone dinged again, vibrating in her hand.
Everything okay babe?
Oh, so now he was worried about her?
She scoffed, knuckles whitening around the phone as she battled the urge to throw it. It was Logan she wanted to throw across the room. Her gaze slid sidelong at Sam, who was still wallowing.
No, she chided herself. Don’t even.
Sighing, she unlocked her phone, opening the message thread.
Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a long time as a thousand hateful replies raced through her mind.
But this wasn’t how she wanted to confront him.
It would be too easy for him. One awkward text conversation would be all that he faced, and then he’d probably send Brandon to pick up all his crap in a shoebox.
That wasn’t good enough for wasting two years of her life.
She bit her bottom lip, allowing her anger to type out what she sent back.
Yeah, everything’s great! I’ve had some time to think, and I want to do it. You know, what we talked about before? I think it’s a good idea
The uncertainty hit her before she finished pressing send.
Three dots popped up on the screen, then vanished. Popped up. Vanished.
He was at a loss for words, apparently.
Wow. Ok, baby. We can definitely talk about it
Her eye twitched. Now he wanted to talk? Was he getting cold feet about it? What, he didn’t like the idea of sharing his partner? Asshole.
No more talking! I don’t want to get in my head. Let’s just go for it! See you tonight ;)
With that, she threw her phone on the bed next to Sam, blowing out the breath she’d been holding. Pressing both hands to her forehead, she stared into space.
“What did I just do?” she whispered.
Sam picked up the phone and rolled onto his back, reading the exchange. And then he threw back his head and began to laugh.