Curve Effect (A BBW Box Set of Contemporary, Science Fiction and Paranormal Romances) by Ann Vremont Page B
Authors: Ann Vremont
Tags: Romance
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and had retained that little detail. He had listened with a far greater interest than I could have imagined.
Processing the information, I drew a shaky breath in. Five seconds later, I shook my head. I still couldn't comprehend his interest or why he had sought me out and pretended to think I was a Fantasy Unit so he could…
Fuck me silly.
Make me come half a dozen times or more.
Invite me home.
Call me love.
Vance curled an arm around my shoulder. His other hand reached across my lap to secure my hip. With his cheek resting against the top of my head, he squeezed my hip. "You’re not mad, but...”
I tilted my face down, angling it toward his chest so he couldn’t possibly see my expression. "It is…uh…complicated.”
It was his own excuse used against him and Vance chuckled. "Believe me, I only want real. You, Morgan Macy, are real. The women I work around -- not real."
When my only response was to burrow closer against his chest, he pulled back a little. Robbing me of my hiding place, he gently tugged at the length of hair falling down my back until I looked at him.
"So tell me what is so complicated." He rubbed his nose along mine.
"You like me. And I…" He blinked, holding the next word at the edge of his mouth until he swallowed it down and started over. "I like you, Morgan.”
Like.
The word echoed through my thoughts. Was it really like that he had started to choke on? I met his gaze, held it only briefly before I had to look away. His lips brushed my cheek, loosening one of the tears I was trying to hold back.
He cupped my face, thumbed the tear away. "Don’t cry, love."
Ah, love . That was the word I had wanted to hear. But no one loved anymore, did they? Love was obsolete. Pleasure machines and video AI provided constant companionship. Mutual, long-term security was no longer a pact between individuals, but between employer and employee. People passed their twilight years in clean rooms and halls filled with the quiet, efficient hum of care droids.
Love had been thoroughly phased out before my parents’ generation.
"Morgan, shhh." Vance dabbed at my cheeks with his shirtsleeve, alternating between trying to shush me and kissing my closed eyelids.
"You should go," I whispered.
"No." He stopped trying to staunch my tears and grabbed my face with both hands. "Look at me, Morgan.”
I opened my eyes and saw only the blur of his face. I shook my head. "Really, just go. We can forget--"
"Maybe you can, but I can’t." Vance grabbed my hand, pulled it up to his wet cheek. He whipped a ragged breath in then drew my fingertips into his mouth, sucking his tears from them as he closed his eyes and another salty pearl escaped down his face.
I leaned forward, removing my fingers and kissing him. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. Vance liked me. I liked him -- far more than I would have allowed myself to admit before that night.
He dragged me onto his lap and I could feel the tension in his body, as if he was restraining some physical imperative to do more than just hold me.
The train’s automated voice announced Washington Heights. Vance coaxed me onto my feet. I would need to switch to the red line for the next part of my trip home. I looked at the video map on the wall and pinpointed my stop at Van Cortlandt Park. Vance tapped the screen, enlarging the location.
Holding me to him, he brushed my cheek with his lips. I heard the anticipatory pull of air into his lungs before he spoke.
"Let me come home with you tonight, Morgan.”
I nodded and warned him. "It’s just a crappy little one-room walk up.”
The doors opened and he stepped out, his arms circling my body as he pulled me from the subway car. The same possessive light that had brightened his eyes in the cube still shone, but the words we had just exchanged softened its intensity.
He dipped his head, kissing me once before leading me toward the escalators.
"So long as you’re in it, love."
Curve Cover
Black SUVs with
Processing the information, I drew a shaky breath in. Five seconds later, I shook my head. I still couldn't comprehend his interest or why he had sought me out and pretended to think I was a Fantasy Unit so he could…
Fuck me silly.
Make me come half a dozen times or more.
Invite me home.
Call me love.
Vance curled an arm around my shoulder. His other hand reached across my lap to secure my hip. With his cheek resting against the top of my head, he squeezed my hip. "You’re not mad, but...”
I tilted my face down, angling it toward his chest so he couldn’t possibly see my expression. "It is…uh…complicated.”
It was his own excuse used against him and Vance chuckled. "Believe me, I only want real. You, Morgan Macy, are real. The women I work around -- not real."
When my only response was to burrow closer against his chest, he pulled back a little. Robbing me of my hiding place, he gently tugged at the length of hair falling down my back until I looked at him.
"So tell me what is so complicated." He rubbed his nose along mine.
"You like me. And I…" He blinked, holding the next word at the edge of his mouth until he swallowed it down and started over. "I like you, Morgan.”
Like.
The word echoed through my thoughts. Was it really like that he had started to choke on? I met his gaze, held it only briefly before I had to look away. His lips brushed my cheek, loosening one of the tears I was trying to hold back.
He cupped my face, thumbed the tear away. "Don’t cry, love."
Ah, love . That was the word I had wanted to hear. But no one loved anymore, did they? Love was obsolete. Pleasure machines and video AI provided constant companionship. Mutual, long-term security was no longer a pact between individuals, but between employer and employee. People passed their twilight years in clean rooms and halls filled with the quiet, efficient hum of care droids.
Love had been thoroughly phased out before my parents’ generation.
"Morgan, shhh." Vance dabbed at my cheeks with his shirtsleeve, alternating between trying to shush me and kissing my closed eyelids.
"You should go," I whispered.
"No." He stopped trying to staunch my tears and grabbed my face with both hands. "Look at me, Morgan.”
I opened my eyes and saw only the blur of his face. I shook my head. "Really, just go. We can forget--"
"Maybe you can, but I can’t." Vance grabbed my hand, pulled it up to his wet cheek. He whipped a ragged breath in then drew my fingertips into his mouth, sucking his tears from them as he closed his eyes and another salty pearl escaped down his face.
I leaned forward, removing my fingers and kissing him. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. Vance liked me. I liked him -- far more than I would have allowed myself to admit before that night.
He dragged me onto his lap and I could feel the tension in his body, as if he was restraining some physical imperative to do more than just hold me.
The train’s automated voice announced Washington Heights. Vance coaxed me onto my feet. I would need to switch to the red line for the next part of my trip home. I looked at the video map on the wall and pinpointed my stop at Van Cortlandt Park. Vance tapped the screen, enlarging the location.
Holding me to him, he brushed my cheek with his lips. I heard the anticipatory pull of air into his lungs before he spoke.
"Let me come home with you tonight, Morgan.”
I nodded and warned him. "It’s just a crappy little one-room walk up.”
The doors opened and he stepped out, his arms circling my body as he pulled me from the subway car. The same possessive light that had brightened his eyes in the cube still shone, but the words we had just exchanged softened its intensity.
He dipped his head, kissing me once before leading me toward the escalators.
"So long as you’re in it, love."
Curve Cover
Black SUVs with
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