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

him, wondering if the urge to giggle was a touch of hysteria or space dementia, Bronte preceded him into the cabin. He caught up to her, snagged her around the waist, and pulled her into his embrace, tangling one hand in her hair and tipping her head back to give him access to her mouth in almost the same motion. Dizziness swept through her at the heated possession of his mouth, disorienting her so thoroughly she scarcely realized they were still in motion until she discovered he’d walked her backwards until they bumped into a wall. The unrestrained eagerness of his mouth and tongue as he lay siege to her senses was as heady a drug as his essence, inundating her with heated pleasure, instantly resurrecting the smoldering embers Gideon had left behind.

She hadn’t thought she could be so quickly or thoroughly aroused after the heights of passion Gideon had taken her to, but she discovered she was wrong, that everything inside of her responded as eagerly to Gabriel as he responded to her.

She was giddy and weak by the time he ended the kiss. Breathing raggedly, he pressed his forehead to hers, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. “You are so beautiful,” he said hoarsely, leaning slightly away to allow his gaze and his hand to trail lightly down her body.

The comment warmed her. At the same time wry amusement flickered through her with the reflection that a rise in desire seemed to have that effect on the eyes. He stepped slightly away even as she struggled to lift her eyelids to look at him, swinging her into his arms effortlessly. More than a little breathless over his maneuver, Bronte felt her heart quicken with anticipation as he strode to the bed with her, settled her on the soft surface and followed her down. To her surprise, instead of instantly ravishing her—as she’d actually hoped he would, he merely settled beside her and lay staring at her as if fascinated by her face. Finally, he lifted one of her hands into his, examining it with equal absorption. “Will you?” he asked finally, toying with her fingers almost nervously. “Contract with me?” he added when he flicked a glance at her face and saw she was merely staring back at him in surprise.

Bronte sighed ecstatically. It was almost romantic!

If it hadn’t been for the bleeding cut over his eye, the reddened nose he’d hit on the floor when he fell, and the fact that he’d slammed Jerico’s head into the floor, she thought it would’ve been even more romantic.

Rolling onto her side, she smiled at him. “You’re certain you don’t want to torture a ‘yes’ out of me?” she asked teasingly.

Doubt flickered in his eyes, his straight dark brows tenting above the bridge of his nose in that sad/confused expression that had always tugged at her heart.

Her chest tightened as it struck her that he probably didn’t understand teasing. It was tragic that they’d missed so much. In some ways they all reminded her of over grown children. She supposed, in some ways they were, because they hadn’t gotten the chance to learn so many of the social skills developed during childhood. They hadn’t even been among the fortunate ones that at least had faux memories to give them those tools.

She lifted her free hand to brush a lock of inky black hair from his face. “Never mind, Gabriel. I was just teasing. Yes, I will contract with you—if you’re sure this is what you want?”

He shifted closer. Dragging her beneath him, he locked his gaze with hers. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I would … be honored.”

He seemed absolutely sincere, and yet the comment made her uncomfortable. “I can’t help but worry that this would be disastrous,” she said. “You and the others have so often come to blows.”

He frowned at that. “We could apply for shift rotation, and then no more than one would be with you at the time,” he said thoughtfully, and then added with the air of confession, “A soldier’s pay is not that much, but then Gideon is an officer and he makes more—so you will not want for anything of comfort. Between the three of us—if you decide that you will accept Jerico—I am certain we can provide very well for you.

“I have no programming for social skills, but I would get it if it becomes available. I have not had much opportunity to utilize my programming as a pleasure bot, but I am fully programmed and equipped. I can give you as much pleasure as the others. I am also a programmed soldier and have much experience in that, at least. On my honor, I will protect you with my life, always.”

Bronte didn’t know why his careful recital of his assets made her feel like crying—after all that was a critical part of courting, convincing the one you wanted that you were worth having—except that he was so awkward at it, obviously didn’t know this was the sort of things one demonstrated or found another way to subtly get the message across. She knew, though, that he’d misinterpret it if she gave in to the urge.

“I will do all that I can to make sure you do not regret it, Bronte—if you will agree.”

She was going to cry if he didn’t stop it! More to distract him than because her libido was still raging, she lifted her head to press her mouth to his. “Yes, Gabriel,” she murmured against his lips.

It had the desired effect—with benefits. It instantly diverted him to sex and he redirected her mind from its sentimental bent to a far more pleasant place. It took very little to reignite the fire he’d already started. She was hot and breathless by the time he ended the kiss and began the search for other delights. By the time he drifted from his exploration of her throat to her breasts, he’d thoroughly awakened every nerve ending in her