Page 50 of Dustwalker
Her hands fell to her knees only to slide up her body again, caressing her breasts, her throat, her face, until her fingers delved into her hair. With elbows out to either side, she lifted her wild locks and undulated her stomach and pelvis. Her breasts strained against the fabric of her sweater, clearly outlining the buds of her nipples.
How had he never noted the similarities between dancing and sex?
She intensified the movements of her torso, thrashing like a caged animal. Rage, frustration, and raw sexuality flowed from her, sweeping into him without mercy. She was a wild, untamable force, displaying her majesty just for him.
Ronin’s awareness of the room around him, of the house, the district, the town, the entire world, faded away, all his attention focusing solely on Lara.
And she somehow kept her gaze upon him throughout, her eyes burning with silent, sultry intensity like he’d never witnessed. Standing, she spun and kicked the chair away. Her body moved like a whirlwind and a stalking cat at once, a contradiction, an impossibility, and he could not look away.
She fell to the floor like she’d been beaten only to surge up again, stronger, and repeated the movements over and over, varying them each time. She closed her eyes, her expression full of feeling.
It was a message to him. He knew it, though he did not yet understand the language of her body. She was ocean waves crashing against the shore, relentless, powerful, and fluid.
Synths were capable of greater speed and precision than Lara, but her flexibility, her fluidity, and the way she constantly threw herself off balance but never lost it combined into something impossible for a bot to replicate.
How did she accomplish it? Were her emotions the secret? They were more visible with each moment, written on her face and conveyed through the growing drama of her dance.
Perhaps he’d been arrogant to assume he’d figure it out after adance or two. Emotion was the key, it had to be, yet that only raised more questions.
Lara dropped to her knees with her head bowed and her arms hanging at her sides. Her disheveled hair obscured her face. The refrigerator buzzed, oblivious to the rhythm of her quick, ragged breaths.
Finally, she lifted her face and ran her fingers through her hair, tugging it back. Her blue eyes sparkled above flushed cheeks.
“That better?” she asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “You didn’t like it.”
There was annoyance in her statement, but he couldn’t determine why.
“It’s given me much to consider.” He’d liked it very much, but he needed time to determine the reasons.
“The hell does that mean?” She stood, breathing heavily.
His attention was drawn to her heaving chest. “You’ve fulfilled your obligation tonight. Will you be ready again tomorrow?”
“It’s not like I need charging or anything.”
“Your people call it eating and sleeping.”
“Are you dismissing me?” She folded her arms across her chest, settling her weight on one foot. The stance pressed her breasts together, pushing them up. His fingers twitched upon his thighs.
No touching.
“No,” he said. “This is your residence now, as much as it is mine. You’re welcome to be in whatever room you choose, whenever you want.”
“Yeah, well…I’m going to bed anyway.”
“I’ve upset you again.”
“Of course not.” Her tone suggested otherwise.
“I know close to a million words in this language, and I still don’t know the right ones to say to you.”
She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight, cocking her hip. Its curve was just visible through her loose clothing. “I’m just tired, okay? So, uh, goodnight. Or whatever your kind says to each other.”
“Goodnight’s fine. Sleep well, Lara.”
