“But I’m not wearing a haptic suit,” she says, and she can’t hide her vulnerability. She stays rooted to the couch, as if moving those few inches will make her more exposed. “There will be no data to send tothe team.”
“Thank Christ for that.” And then the penny drops.“Josie, is that why you didn’t text me back at first? Because I said I’d handed in our suits?”
Her silence speaks volumes.
A deep, aching regret unfurls in me. I feel a desperate longing to go back in time and meet Josie under completely different circumstances. And then I remember—I did. And she hated my guts. “I will dismantle this entire thing right now. You are so much more important than this stupid project.”
She looks down, unable to meet my gaze.
“Josie, look up at me, lass. I’m serious. I can kill it immediately. I told you that the other day, and it’s still true. You’ve got all the power here.” Saying it, I realize I mean it with my full heart.
I want Josie more than any profit I might earn on She’s the One.
I can find another way to take down von Graf.
I can find another AI model.
I can’t find another Josie.
And the ache I feel for her, even with her sitting right in front of me, is almost unbearable. I want to scoop her up, lay her down, and strip her bare. I want to cover her with my body, shielding her from the cruel world outside. I want to taste every inch of her skin, make her gasp and moan my name until she’s trembling beneath me.
“I don’t want you to call off the project,” Josie says, her cheeks flushing. I wonder if she’s thinking what I am. How incredible it felt to be together, even in virtual reality. How we kissed, sucked, touched each other. How the thought of experiencing that in real life seems almost overwhelming, like it might actually undo me. “I just hate being reminded thatthis—whatever it is between us—is all tied to creating my avatar.”
And suddenly it clicks. She needs reassurance just as much as I do. The time we’ve spent together feels so delicate, like it can slip through our fingers at any moment as easily as sand.
“I like you sitting right here.” In answer, she wraps her arms around my neck and then nuzzles her lips against my ear.
“Axe,” she whispers, and I shiver. My dick stiffens with want.
“Aye, lass.”
“We’re not…I can’t…not tonight.” I grasp her tighter, kiss her forehead, between her brows, her cheeks, her mouth. My kisses are gentle, asking for nothing in return. They are me acquiescing to her boundaries.
“I know, sweetheart. I understand.” And I do. I can see the hunger in her eyes, how easy it would be to turn this night into something wholly different. It’s so tempting. We could fuck our pain away, lose ourselves in each other’s bodies. But that’s not what she needs right now.
“I want to. Holy shit, do I want to,” she says, her breath hot against my cheek, and she shifts in my lap so she can feel me against her. A slow, deliberate wriggle—and I throw my head back with a low, desperate groan. She must feel how close I am to unraveling, because she hesitates—just for a second—before dragging her tongue in a slow, tantalizing line up my neck, from clavicle to ear. “How can such a bad idea feel so fucking good?”
The energy between us has shifted, the tension strung tight, a taut wire ready to snap. I’m burning up inside, so close to losing control I could explode in my pants just from looking at her. I place my hands on her waist, savoring the heat of that touch for one delicious second before lifting her and gently setting her down on the couch beside me. Thigh to thigh will have to be good enough.
“Not tonight.” I lean forward to pick up the remote from her coffee table. It takes every ounce of self-control I learned in the CIA to resist the urge to pull her into my arms, toss her over my shoulder, and make her come until she’s screaming my name. I keep my face calm, pretending this isn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. “How about we watch my very first rom-com instead?”
Forty-Four
Josie
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, vibrating so loudly that it nearly falls off the edge. Half asleep, I grope for it in the dark. The bright screen stings my eyes as I squint at the messages. There’s a missed call from Mom—the last person I want to hear from—followed by a flurry of frantic texts.
Josie, wake up!
Wake up!
Are you even there?
Why are you ignoring me? This is an EMERGENCY!
Your Nonna is at Shelton General. It’s serious. Get here NOW.
The last text, received just moments ago, reads:Please hurry!!! I need you.
