Page 34 of All The Way Under
She nods but also sobs. Saylor sits up.
“I know that, but I really need to get out of here. I’m losing my mind already, and they’ve been here for months. It’s impossible to think about a long timeline. I acted like a complete psycho today because you’re my only company.”
Pressing my lips together, I try not to smile.
“Psycho is a strong word,” I reply. “It’s okay to be attracted to me.”
Saylor groans. “There’s the attitude that ensures I’m going crazy instead of actually being attracted to you.”
“I’m attracted to you,” I say. “And to answer your question, yes, if we were in the real world, I’d still be attracted to you. I can separate what’s happening to me at any moment from my emotions. Those are separate things, and I know I would want you in the real world. Even though I doubt you can separate your situation from emotions. I don’t think you’d want me in the real world. I’m not your type. This is where we should be talking about stuff like this. Not in crowded areas with our captors around. I guess thatwasa little psycho.”
If they heard that conversation, they’d surely cage us in different areas, and as uncomfortable as this proximity is for my willpower, it’s what’s best for the mission.
I chance a glance at her. She’s staring at me, eyes intense.
“Why don’t you think you’d be my type in the real world?”
Careful with how much you say, Brody. Careful.
“From what I know about you so far, I think we’re from two different worlds.” Perfect. Leave it at that. “Which doesn’t mean much for relationships, I suppose, because a lot of times opposites attract, but I think my being the person who is making your life better earns your affection in my favor. I’m your only convenient, viable option. I’m sure men are clamoring over you outside of here.”
“I admit, most men are nicer to me, but I don’t think it matters what world we’re from.” Saylor pauses. “That almost sounded like a compliment—the other guys wanting me part at the end there.”
She just glazed over the different worlds thing there. She rubs her hand, the center of her palm. “It’s sore from all the hammering.”
She’s close enough to touch, and my fucking intrusive thoughts win. I grab her hand, flip it over, and rub her palm with my thumbs. She allows it. Watching our hands, her face a mask, hiding all emotions now.
It feels electric to touch her on purpose. I want my hands all over her tight body. Mostly, I’d love them on her hips so I can direct her on my dick.Yes, I think. That would fulfill this intrusive need that began the second I saw her.
“In your world, you don’t hammer a lot, then?” I ask, hoping my double entendre hits.
She clears her throat. “I don’t. Operating systems don’t have handles or require brute force.”
I work my thumbs into her hand, feeling just how fragile she is. Her fingers are half the size of mine. I’ve crossed the line. Why stop now? Moving my thumbs up in an illusion to massage her wrists, I feel her pulse. It’s beating against the thin skin in a wild tempo. Even though it’s her heartbeat, all I hear as it thuds against my thumb is fuck. Me. Fuck. Me. Fuck. Me. Over andover, quicker and quicker, as her gaze penetrates mine. Fuck. Me.
I clench my jaw to quell the storm inside my chest, and her blue eyes dip to my neck, then back up to meet mine.
The sun is almost set, but her eyes shine with the last bit of sunlight, and looking into the depths of her gaze pulls me deep. She has me rapt in the moment—something ripping open inside my heart.
What is it about this woman specifically that does it for me? Is it the half-love, half-hate? Hate and love are two sides of the same coin.
Saylor is infuriating and beautiful. She’s intelligent, yet soft. The pull is magnetic in a destined way. I would have called bullshit if you told me these thoughts would cross my mind.
“Are you going to kiss me?” Saylor asks, licking her lips.
A knot twists in my gut.
“I’m thinking about it.”
She exhales, her lips pillowing open to expose her teeth.
“What’s to think about?”
My dick is hard. Everything about this moment screams forever, and yet, what comes to mind? My fucking commander. My mission. Duty. Honor. Respect. I deflate. Literally.
Cradling her face in my hand, I take one last breath before I let my brain, the big one, rule my body. The sun sets, and the light just illuminating her blue eyes goes out. It’s like she reads the decision straight from my mind before I’ve fully made it.
I lean in and inhale the sweet scent of her skin. Her hair still smells of something sweet, and being this close forces a visceral reaction from my body. Leaning toward her a bit more, I commit the scent to memory as my guts tighten in response.
