God, he’s going to take this excruciatingly slowly and draw out every delicious second. The air seems to vibrate between them as their noses brush, and he delivers a whisper-soft peck to the corner of her full lips. Another to her jaw. She squeaks and, fuck, he wants her. His cock is painfully hard now. And from barely a kiss.
But as they breathe each other’s air, he can feel her scarcely perceptible hesitation, her uncertainty, even as her lips chase his. As if she is waging a small yet significant inner battle in her mind. He catches her cheeks, and this time as their lips touch, he forces the kiss to turn sweet because his alarm bells are going off. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t let her do this. That protective urge he’s felt toward her is firing. Trying to alert him to danger.Protect her.But there’s no one around. It doesn’t make sense. At once, he realizes what he’s meant to be protecting her from.
Himself.
The shock of it steals his breath. He stays like that for long moments, keeping his lips pressed to hers. Then James does the first truly unselfish thing he’s done in his entire life. He steps away.
Kate gasps. “What are you doing?”
He has no fucking clue. He’s way out of his depth. James runs a hand through his hair, cursing himself for his honorable decision. His groin throbs in protest. Ignoring it, he says, “Your mind and your body are at odds. You don’t want this. With me. I don’t want to manipulate you or coax you into giving me something you’ll regret in the morning. I respect you far too much to put you in that position.”
James points to the monitors, which still display the damning articles, because the gesture says enough.You are white and I am gray, and I’ll only make you muddy.I am not worthy of your goodness.The realization is more painful than a perfectly landed right hook.
Still, it doesn’t stop the way he aches for her. Tomorrow, when her head is clear, if she decides to muddy herself, then who is he to stop her? Because no matter how much better James becomes, he’ll always be a sinner. But that doesn’t feel right. The harsh reality is that she doesn’t wanthim. She wants a warm body, someone to make her forget she’s alone in this strange world. With how good she is, he isn’t surehe can ever be the “better” she deserves. Even if he figures out how to make it in this world and has something to offer her.
Kate lifts her fingers to touch her lips. “How is this possible?” she asks, more to herself than to him. They stare at each other as time drifts past. Finally, she says, “Fine.”
He’s been so focused on his own thoughts that he isn’t sure what she’s thinking. But right now, he’s dangerously close to changing his mind. He lets her slip into her room and shut the door. Being a decent guy sucks.
20 – Capital F, Frustrating
K8
“You’ve got to be kidding me?!” K8 shouts. She doesn’t care if he hears her through the door. Who does he think he is, trying to tell her how and what she feels? Arrogant ass.
Does she like him? No.
Does she want to sleep with him? Yes.
See, she knows her own mind. Sure, it’s kind of sweet that he thinks he’s protecting her from himself, but she doesn’t need him to. She’s a grown woman. And it’s rather offensive.Frustrating. It’s really,reallyfrustrating. She was hardly going to throw herself at him. She needs . . . K8 opens the drawers of her nightstand, searching for her newest toy. She rifles around in her dresser and the bathroom vanity, then the closet, coming up empty-handed.
She groans as she remembers she stashed the thing under the kitchen sink in an effort to keep herself from thinking about Jamessexually. Tonot get confused, as she put it. But she is far past denying the fire he stokes in her. The last thing she intends to do, however, is go into the kitchen and retrieve a contraption labeled “PUSSYzapper3000”in front of him. That would be worse than the rejection and the incessant ache pulsing between her legs. The thought is worse than a trip to the Cold Compression Chamber.
K8 tilts her head to the side. That’s actually not a bad thought. She is feeling a little inflamed. Pulling up her wellness app, BodyLock, she makes the earliest available appointment at C3, which is next week.
Her thoughts inevitably drift back to him. A few minutes ago, she was ready and willing to enjoy the chemistry between them, consequences be damned. It’s not like her heart would have been involved in the transaction. He could have her body, but she’s smart enough to know he isn’t the type of man to give more to. That kiss, though . . . how did he do that? With such seemingly little effort, he set her ablaze. And then he rejected her.
She goes on readying herself for bed. As she catches her reflection in her bathroom mirror, she studies the puffy skin around her eyes. She’s cried too much for him. Logically, if her heart isn’t at least a little involved, then what’s with the tears? No, it’s only the shock of it all.
With her nightly routine complete, she tucks herself into bed. Then she snatches her device off the nightstand and promptly makes a Refresh appointment for half past ten tomorrow. She should probably hit the Sports Simulation Center for some exercise, too. If she wakes up an hour earlier, she can squeeze in a full match. She messages Oro1, who she hasn’t seen since her birthday, then books a court.
Then she needs to get some work done. Hopefully, James will want to continue learning about her world, because there are dozens of climate reports and open task orders in her inbox to sort through. And this time of year, the atmosphere always gets shifty. The predictions are harder, and getting the exact calculations correct, especially forthe big air interchanges like the SAT garages, is critical. Lives depend on the accuracy of her work.
That’s what she will do. Focus on her self-care, her FRIENDS, and the important contribution she makes to the safety and well-being of the people in her sector. That leaves no space for the man in the other room.
As her worries melt away, she feels better. Lighter. She drifts off running soothing air volume transfer calculations over in her mind.
21 – Virtual Tennis Ball
James
October 15, 2390, Day 73.
Kate flounces out of her room the next morning, wearing what James thinks must be what workout clothes are now, but might have been worn to the club in his time. They are futuristic but have a throwback quality to them. She’s tucked a—because why would she spare him—sheercollared shirt into a short, subtly metallic pleated white skirt. She’s cinched her long auburn hair in a high ponytail and wears what appear to be extra bouncy sneakers. Kill him now. The look is equal parts naughty schoolgirl Halloween costume and Tennis Player Barbie. He can’t peel his eyes away from his roommate.
She’s nothing like Blythe, or any of the elite pool of women he and his family would consider wife material. Kate was certainly polished,but not in a demure, understated, pearls on Sunday and a house in the Hamptons sort of way. It seems he’s stopped caring. He thinks she’s perfect—loud and revealing outfits, dragon scale tattoos, ridiculous virtual dogs, and all.
“Where are you off to?” he asks.
