“Absolutely not. They’re not all created equal. Some are too weak, some are tech-enhanced which is weirdlyclinical—no thanks. And don’t even get me started on the ones with ‘personal assistants’ built in.”
My jaw tensed. “Meaning… voice commands?”
“Mm-hmm.” She leaned forward, clearly enjoying this. “It’s creepy. Who wants AI moaning encouragement while they come? Anyway. My favorite’s reliable.”
She turned fully, walking back towards me, letting her fingers graze my arm as she passed. “Jealous?”
“No.”
“You sound jealous.”
“I’m not jealous of an object.”
I was extremely jealous of an object.
She smirked. “Tell that to your jaw.”
I didn’t answer. I just stepped past her and turned the tap on the sunken bath. She looked down at the bath, then back at me.
“Wow. Is this you seducing me, Vincent?”
“Vince. And no. Just being polite.”
“You always run baths for your guests?”
“No.”
“Just me?”
“You’re not a guest.
“And pleasure,” I said, adjusting the temperature, “isn’t meant to be efficient.”
“It is for me.”
I straightened. “You just get it over with?”
“Sometimes.” Her smile widened. “Surelyyoudon’t make it last when you’re taking care of yourself.”
I paused. Fuck. I left myself open for that one. I slowly looked her up and down. I sure as fuck, wasn’t subtle.
“Depends,” I said. “What’s on my mind.”
She moved then. Slowly. Stepping into my closer, her hand brushing mine.
“Like what?” she asked.
“If I answer,” I said, stepping closer, brushing her hair back. “you’re answering the same.”
She didn’t flinch and back away. Like I expected. Just smiled. “Fine. I’ll go first.” I didn’t expect that.
Her fingers slid up my arm. “I don’t think. That’s the point. I don’t want fantasy.”
All I could do was picture it. Fuck. I took a steady breath. Trying to act composed.
“But something makes you reach for it,” I hooked my finger with hers. “Tell me what.”
She was still looking up at me.
