It was strange how quickly she’d adjusted to his presence. She was surprised to realize she found him… comforting. It almost made her sad that Logan would have to take him back. She definitely didn’t have a quarter of a million dollars lying around to buy him with. Her job at the flower lab didn’t pay nearly enough.
She sighed softly, raking her fingers over the popcorn despite her lack of interest in eating any.
“You are dismayed,” the android said. “This is because Sabrina stole Kelcey’s partner, thus dooming her to be removed from the island?”
She grinned at him, shaking her head.
“You need a name.” She set the bowl aside on the coffee table. “I keep calling you ‘the android’ in my head, and it doesn’t seem right.”
“You could call me Thirty-One. That is what the employees at the lab call me.”
Her nose scrunched. One of the women began shouting curses on the TV, and Ophelia snagged the remote from between them to mute it.
“Ah. They are resorting to violence.” He pointed as Kelcey grabbed a handful of Sabrina’s hair. “I expect the authorities will be on their way to apprehend her at any moment. Such actions are unlawful.”
She was helpless not to laugh at his observations. “Okay, really. You need a name. Something masculine but a little pretty—like you.”
He did a double-take at that, such a human gesture of surprise. They really did code him so intricately.
“Maybe… William? No, maybe not. Damon? Henry?”
He canted his head as she rattled off names, seeming uninvested in her decision.
“Hmmm… Samuel. You look like a Sam,” she mused, taking in the elegant planes of his face. “It’s a good name. What do you think?”
“Samuel,” he echoed, contemplative. “Sam. I am Sam?”
She beamed. “Yes, you are.”
Slowly, his smile grew to mirror her own.
“You can call me anything you want. Anything, and I will answer.” His gaze dipped to her lips, and her heart fluttered in response. “You could call me yours.”
She scoffed, turning away as her neck heated. “What a line.”
“I mean it,” he said somberly, dragging her attention back to him. “I enjoy being in your presence. I think I may be obsessed with you.”
“You’re a robot. You can’t be obsessed with people.”
“I am a robot.” He slid across the cushions until their thighs touched. “And I am obsessed with you, Ophelia.”
His dark eyes were dancing that familiar triangle—one eye, the other, her mouth. One eye, the other, her mouth. Her mouth. She swallowed hard, forgetting how to breathe.
“But I’m not your primary user.” God, her voice sounded tiny.
“I don’t care.”
Her heart stumbled a beat at that declaration. Was this more of his elaborate programming? Something to wear down her defenses against him as a skeptic, to make her think there was more to him than there possibly could be?
Was it working?
“Sam…”
He groaned, leaning in to capture her lips with his own. A squeak escaped her as he loomed over her, crawling closer until her head was pressed against the arm of the couch. He braced his hands on either side of her, straddling her lap, effectively pinning her in place as his mouth explored her own.
He was such a good kisser. That shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was. His lips were soft and warm and talented, kissing her in a rhythm that explored every facet of her mouth. When his tongue flicked over her lips and teased at the seam, she helplessly opened for him.
The ends of his curling hair tickled her cheeks as he kissed her more deeply. His tongue was hot, wet, and velveteen in her mouth. It tasted like the citrus icing from her favorite cinnamon rolls. How odd that he would be so perfectly calibrated to her tastes.
