Page 54 of Atticus
God. That kiss. The most exquisite torture I’ve ever put myself through. What I wouldn’t give to taste his lips against mine again, to go back in time and sayfuck itand lose myself in that moment and let it take us where it will. I know I’m just anxious after everything that happened today, and I still haven’t come down all the way from watching that car plow into Atticus right in front of my eyes.
It was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed. I forgot he was a machine. I was panicked, shaken. I’ve never seen him so badly damaged and powered down like that. Thank god for Kyrone and the Tin Man’s Heart. If I had to wait for BioNex to make time for his repairs, how was I going to return to work on Monday without him?
Well, half the staff probably wouldn’t care if I left him behind. But I’m caring less and less about what they think. I know I should be careful. This is my job, how I make ends meet. But Atticus is more than just my friend or my coworker. He’s my companion. He’s practically my—
Lucy, I warn myself.Don’t you dare say boyfriend. We are not that far gone yet. Simmer down.
I shouldn’t want that again because—well, why shouldn’t I want it? I haven’t heard him utter a single complaint when we’re together. Holding each other, playing with each other’s hair—which I’m still convinced is better than sex, by the way—the way he lightly caresses my waist with his arms around me.
Great. Now I’m wound up,andI’m wet. I’m too aware of the ache between my legs, the tension in my body. I slip one hand beneath my panties and tentatively brush my fingertip over my swollen clit, which responds instantly with aching pleasure to my touch. I’ve really got no choice now, or it’ll take me forever to fall asleep.
Then the door cracks open. I freeze.
Atticus peeks his head through, his white eyes fixated upon me. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Did I wake you?”
“No, no, no,” I say a little too fast, sitting up and trying to pretend like I didn’t just have my hand between my legs. The heat spreads to my face. “I was awake. Is everything okay? With Amber, I mean?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. Can I come in?”
“Of course.” I scold myself inwardly about sounding too eager.Seriously, Lucy, chill.There’s no way he could know what you were about to do.“Amber’s pretty busy tomorrow and can’t get out of things, but it’s perfect timing. I’d like to stop by and see my family. I’d really love it if you came along. I’ve told my parents so much about you.”
Atticus shuts the door behind him quietly as I babble and slowly approaches the bed. Every step towards me has my heart racing. I’ve never actually brought Atticus into my bedroom at home. He’s certainly never asked or entered himself. My mind flits to the chip that Kyrone removed. After he explained to me what it does, how cruel it is, I couldn’t bear the thought of keeping it in Atticus.
“I was concerned you might be tense after what happened today,” Atticus says as he lowers himself onto the bed, sitting across from me. “I wanted to see if there’s anything I can do to ensure you’re relaxed.”
Oh no.I swallow. This is the worst possible time to ask me that. I close my legs beneath the blankets, trying to will myself a little self-control as Atticus touches my forehead.
“Your temperature indicates duress. Are you all right?”
My entire face is burning. “I’m fine. I just—it was really frightening, watching you get hurt like that. I’ve gotten so used to you being around me all the time, the idea of never seeing you again really hurt. But I’m glad you acted so fast, or Amber might not be here, either.”
When he lowers his hand, I take it in mine. How simple a motion it would be, to guide it to my belly and then south, beneath my underwear. To ask him to help me relax in other ways.
“You’re a hero, Atticus. When I was done being a mess about what happened to you, I was so proud. People don’t do what you do. They don’t throw themselves into traffic for another person anymore. Not in New Carnegie, anyway. It’s a miracle if they look up from their phones.”
Atticus smiles. The back-lit glow behind his irises makes him appear unearthly, inhuman, like he’s an alien sent to whisk me away, or a benevolent monster come out from under my bed. It’s those eyes that have always seen through me, that I’ve been afraid to lose myself in.
“Your pride in me is what keeps me going, Lucy,” he replies, his voice as gentle and affectionate as his hand in mine. “When everyone mistrusts me or doubts me, your faith in me is how I continue to operate.” He’s always been so reserved, asking permission before he touches me, but now he reaches out and traces his finger along my jaw. “You must be tired. Shall I let you sleep? Or would you like me to stay?”
No, a part of me protests.Don’t let me sleep. Keep me up all night.Stay!I should just say to hell with it. Cast caution to the wind. He’s the kindest, most intelligent, most human man I’ve ever known. What could be wrong about it?
But my bravery takes a swan dive. I don’t know why I overcomplicate everything. The historian in me, I guess, always focused on the details. I can’t ask him to stay, to be physically intimate with me when I haven’t allowed myself to be emotionally intimate with him. I know he would do it. He’d pleasure me in a heartbeat. We could have each other first and ask questions later.
But, dammit, that’s not the way I do things. And even though I long for him to stay with me tonight, to crawl into bed with me, hold me like he’s done before, I don’t trust myself to behave. He’s not a snack I can indulge in when it suits me. He’s a person. A complete person, synthetic or not.
“It’s a big day tomorrow,” I tell him. “My family is pretty energetic. So we should probably rest.”
Disappointment flickers briefly across Atticus’s face, just the faintest twitch of his brow, and he lets go of my hand.
Every ounce of my body scolds me.Undo it! Undo it, right now!I reach out and snatch his hand again. “Wait, Atticus. Don’t go. That isn’t what I—”
“Lucy,” he says soothingly, clasping my hand gently. He leans over me as he adjusts my blankets, tucking me in. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be just outside.”
“You know I want you to stay,” I whisper as he rests his forehead against mine. We’re so close. Within reach to kiss. Why did I tell him we couldn’t ever do it again? “I do, but it’s just—I’m not—there’s so much I—if we—” My every attempt at starting a new sentence to explain myself falls flat.
“Lucy,” he interjects again patiently, tousling a braid gently as he gazes into my eyes. “Not today.”
Not today.
