My Robotic Stranger

27

ETHAN

Ivy's lips curved up in a smile when she closed the door behind her; she pressed her back to it with both her hands behind her as she watched me, teeth hooking on her bottom lip. "Cozy, isn't it?"

She asked, and I looked around her dimly lit room. It was small, fit for one person, but could accommodate two. The small bed by the corner looked tucked in and comfortable, the sight of it was intimate, and it felt like I could have the best sleep on it if I let myself.

It was unlike my empty bed back at my place. This one was perfect.

There was a small side table beside the bed; it held the lamp that supplied the golden hour-ish light that added to the warm atmosphere the room gave off.

A framed photo of her and her parents was hanging on the wall, and the reading table by the side was filled with study books.

The average apartment of a college student.

"I like it," I voiced.

"You should see Caramel's room. Screams death." She said nervously, moving away from the door and clasping her hands in front of her. "You can...you can stay here anytime you want. The apartment is big; I don't think the girls will mind."

"Looking for ways to kidnap me already?" I asked her in a teasing tone, and her cheeks pinked.

"No, I mean, you said you liked it, and let's admit, your bedroom is—is kind of fake, and probably would feel unwelcoming now that you know—everything?"

I reached for her, my hand wrapping around her wrist to pull her to me. she stumbled forward, her body pressing against mine.

"I really don't care about my bedroom, if it's fake or real, and yes, I would have loved to move in with you; in fact, I want nothing more but to move in with you. But I have a responsibility to the Superiors, And right now, Ivy, I don't want to talk about bedrooms and living situations." I said, caressing her face, my lips brushing against hers as I asked. "Do you?"

Her gaze flickered from my eyes to my lips as she feverishly whispered a 'no.'

I crashed my lips with her warm, soft, inviting ones, kissing her like she was my only source of oxygen. Because she was. I wanted to drink her like she was the fucking water of life.

Her petite frame pressing against me had the bond we shared swirling between our bodies.

I felt the strain in my pants tighten, and I pressed it against her, letting her know that this was all for her. I was broken for any other girl because she occupied every space in my heart and mind.

A small maddening moan escaped her when my tongue tasted hers. Sweet and addictive. I didn't want to stop. How the fuck had I managed to pull myself back from her all this time? That had been a stupid thing to do.

When I pressed more into the kiss, she pulled back a little, breaking it off as she breathed harshly.

I frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing—nothing at all. Just wanted to clear up something."

"Now?"

"Yes. The first time we had sex, it was—you were drunk—out of it. And I pretty much took advantage of that and supplied myself a very shitty excuse as to why I let it happen when I shouldn't have—"

"It's okay; I'm not mad."

"I know you're not. I just—I want to make sure this time you, you want it. Me."

My eyes searched hers. "Ponytail," I called, taking her hand in mine, placing it atop my chest so she could feel the fast pacing of my heart, and then I dragged her hand down to the hard bulge in my pants. "Does this feel like I don't want this?" my lips brushed her jaw. "You?" I kissed down her neck, and she melted into me. "I know our first time wasn't as perfect as we wanted it," I said, allowing my gaze to settle on her. "But we have a long time to make up for it. Besides, with us, nothing ever starts perfectly. We always get it wrong the first time, but that has never stopped us from trying again."