Page 43 of Mutant Mine

I stay completely still, my heart racing. This is… it’s…

It feelsso good.

Every inch of Roth’s heated skin on mine is melting my belly into goo, as if I’ve been craving it. This is the closest I’ve ever been to another person. Zaps of electricity burn at all the points where he’s touching me.

While the cat’s away, the mice will play, I think hysterically. Clearly my body has been enjoying itself while my brain was logged out. But it’s time for the ol’ conscious mind to take over any moment now. Right?

I don’t want to move. But the more awake I get, the more I know that I really, really have to.

I shift my weight, trying to get a bit of leverage to start extricating myself. With a deep grumble of displeasure, Roth grips my waist tighter with one hot, heavy hand, and turns a little himself to compensate for how I’ve moved out of his grip. The new position pushes my butt back against him.

Ah.

Okay. Don’t freak out. Do not freak out.

Moving is no longer an option. Time for plan B: freeze in place like a rabbit in the grip of a fox.

Roth is still fast asleep. I can tell by the slow, heavy rise and fall of his ribcage. The last thing I want him to do now is wake up and find us in this position. I really don’t think I’d survive that conversation — or his reaction when he realizes that his cock is hard against me.

Which is interesting, actually,says that calm little voice which occasionally pops up inside me, speaking over the rest of the yelling in my head.

The last time Roth and I were this close (and I wasn’t passed out) was when he first escaped from his cell. He pressed me between his body and the wall, and I thought that I felt him start to get hard against me. It scared the living crap out of me.

But none of Roth’s actions since then have indicatedthatkind of interest. I had started to assume that whatever I felt during the blackout must have been his body reacting to something else, or just a straight-up mistake on my part. Apart from locking me in here, everything he’s done can only be described as… honorable?

Honor doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you, the calm voice says.It’s like bravery. You can’t be brave without being afraid first — and you can’t be honorably self-denying except by wanting the thing that you’re denying yourself.

Okay, I can concede that he does want something from me. He wouldn’t have locked me up in his room if he didn’t. But he seems content to keep me around as a kind of pet — like a feral cat who isn’t ready to sit on his lap yet, but will creep a little closer day by day if he keeps feeding it treats.

Or maybe honorable is the wrong word. He’s beenchivalrous. Somehow, Roth always knew that I was a woman. Maybe he just wanted me in here for safekeeping? Yesterday’s attack proved that I was in danger the moment anyone else found out my secret.

If he wanted me for himself —reallywanted me, beyond just being amused by me or preferring to have company while he eats — wouldn’t he have given me some clue by now?

Well, says the voice.You could takethisas a clue, if you want.

I resist the urge to rub my thighs together, to relieve the warm, tingly pressure growing between them.

But sometimes men just wake up like this, right? The reason is something totally unsexy, to do with full bladders pressing on prostates. The same must be true of giant blue mutant men — assuming that he has a prostate? What even is a prostate??

Oh god, oh fuck.

Behind me, Roth shifts, distracting me from my unhinged stream of thoughts. With a groan, his hips push sleepily against mine. Before I can stifle it, I squeak.

I know the exact moment when he wakes up. He breathes deeply, stretches — then goes utterly still.

Immediately, I go floppy and clamp my eyes shut, feigning sleep.

Just like I did, Roth takes stock of our situation for a moment. Shock is radiating off him, his limbs rigid. Then, very slowly, he disentangles himself from me. He eases my head down onto a pillow as he slides his arm out from under me, and gets out of bed.

It’s cold without him.

Roth stands by the side of the bed, staring down at me. He doesn’t say anything — just studies me silently, for a long time. Then he walks away.

23

Roth

I AMin the kitchen, carving slices from a loaf of bread. The coffee is already brewing. I have fetched cream and butter from the stasis unit, as well as a jar of apricot jelly.

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