Cyborg Nation by Kaitlyn O'Connor (english readers TXT) 📗

were the ‘rewards’ she’d never gotten around to giving herself for studying the dry texts she needed to read to keep abreast of developments in her field.

After a short mental debate, she studied the titles of the novels and finally chose one. A quick search of the room revealed the unsurprising information that the bunk was the only comfortable furnishing she could retreat to to read. Climbing on the mattress, she settled with her back against the wall, drew her knees up, and depressed the button that opened the book. When she’d drawn the film from the cylindrical case, she brushed her fingers across the film until she reached the opening chapter, sighed blissfully, and settled to reading.

She was an old fashioned sort of a gal, she supposed. She still preferred to actually hold a book in her hands, feel the crispness of film beneath her fingers, smell the faint odors of plasti-metal and warming circuits. The holo-books that read to her just weren’t the same. She preferred her own voice in her head as she read to the mechanical voice of the holo-books.

Discovering she was squinting to try to focus, she worked on zooming in and out on the text for several moments before it dawned on her that she didn’t have her glasses. She frowned, trying to remember what she’d done with them, and finally recalled she’d placed them on the floor near her when she’d crawled under the bunk. Setting her book aside, she climbed off of the bunk, got down on her hands and knees, and peered under the bed for the glasses. She heard Gabriel leave the facilities, but she didn’t think much of it even when she heard him head toward her … until she felt a hand glide over the curve of her ass and fingers wedged between her legs, curling into her cleft. Letting out a yelp of surprise, she surged forward, scraping her lower back against the bottom edge of the bed and then pan-caking against the hard floor.

Gabriel, now on all fours, was peering at her as she whirled around to glare indignantly in his direction. Glaring back at her, he grabbed her by one thigh and dragged her from beneath the bed. She made a grab for her glasses and managed to snag them on her way out.

“You do not need to hide,” he said irritably.

“I wasn’t trying to hide!” Bronte said testily, feeling her face heat at the reminder that she’d already established a habit of crawling into tight, dark spaces to elude them. “I was trying to get my glasses.”

He eyed the glasses she was shaking in his face, studied her expression for a moment and abruptly caught her face between two big hands, dragging her—by her head—toward him. More surprised than anything else, she merely gaped at the face zooming in on hers. The moment his lips closed over hers, though, and his tongue speared between her parted lips to delve inside her mouth, she reacted instinctively by clamping down on it with her teeth. He retreated, releasing her as abruptly as he’d caught her as if he’d just discovered he’d grabbed a hot coal. They stared at one another—Bronte with dismay that she’d yielded, again, to an impulse it would’ve been far wiser to ignore, and Gabriel with indignation.

Abruptly remembering what had happened the last time she’d given in to the impulse to bite, Bronte crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t even wearing under clothes anymore because she didn’t have a change of under clothes.

He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, as if searching for damage.

She hadn’t bitten him that hard, she thought uneasily.

He caught her wrists with the same lightening, mind numbing speed he’d caught her before, too quickly for her mind to actually grasp what had happened for several moments. Instead of trying to pry her arms from across her chest, however, he surged to his feet, taking her with him. She wasn’t certain if it was surprise that slackened her resistance, or if she had been lulled by the false conclusion that he was only helping her to her feet. Either way, he caught her off guard again when he jerked her arms straight and then shoved them behind her back. The pressure arched her back, bringing her up on her toes and plastering her chest against his. After staring down at her upturned face for a long moment, as if he was trying to decide what he wanted to do in the form of retribution, he transferred her wrists to one hand, lifted the other to close it tightly around the back of her skull and dipped his head toward her again.

This time, instead of trying to kiss her, however, he lowered his mouth to her exposed throat. Her breath caught in her chest as she felt the tip of his nose brush the delicate skin and then his lips. In an almost leisurely manner, he explored the entire area and finally sank his teeth into the side of her neck, just hard enough to sting and cause an explosion of pebbly flesh as the fine hairs all over her body came erect with anticipation. Blood rushed to flood both her nipples and her sex, bringing them to pulsing life as he sucked the sting away. Spearing her with his intense gaze as he lifted his head to look at her again, he released her wrists and cupped her buttocks, trapping them as he curled his hips into hers, tilting her hips just enough to press his erection against her engorged clit.

She should have felt threatened, horrified, disgusted. She was certain she should have. Instead, she felt weak all over, felt liquid desire heat her blood and send it surging through her in a hot tide.

Releasing her unhurriedly, he turned and strode toward the door.

Anger flooded Bronte as she watched his departure. She didn’t know if it was because he’d aroused every nerve ending inside of her with