False Match

by Lynne Silver

  Thea looked up, startled. Samara hoped she wasn’t offended by the question. She was asking as a friend, not a medical professional. “Four months.”

  She winced. Four months. Far along enough to have started seeing real signs of life inside her. “I’m sorry.”

  Thea looked at her little laptop on the desk. “Que sera, sera.” But it obviously cost her something to be that casual about the loss.

  “And you think it was the enhancements that caused the miscarriage?”

  “I know it was.” Her voice was emphatic. “Doctor Wise confirmed it. My body saw the baby as a virus. So much for genetic matching, right?”

  She pursed her lips, already lost in the medical reasoning of the whys and hows of Thea’s situation. “We’ll figure it out. I promise. We’ll get you a baby.”

  Thea smiled. “You have a son, right?”

  “He’s four. His name is Luca. I’d show you a picture, but I have a feeling,” she glanced at the clock on the wall, “he’ll be bursting in here any minute.” And the door crashed open, with Emma riding herd on Luca, her bundle of energy.

  “Mommy!” Luca leapt into the room and onto her lap, almost in one movement.

  “Hi, baby. Were you a good listener for Emma?”

  “He was great,” Emma said, walking into the room and handing Samara a cloth bag full of crayons, books and, of course, the ever present stuffed, raggedy much-loved Puppy. “You may need a bookstore run. He was complaining that he’s read all of these already.”

  Another thing to add to her to-do-but-not-today list. They really needed a daycare on campus. It wasn’t fair to Luca to have gone from a stimulating preschool to a year of almost total isolation, and now she wanted the best environment for him.

  “I’m hungry, can we have lunch now?” Luca asked.

  “Yes. I thought we’d have a little picnic in our apartment, or if the sun is out, we can take it outside somewhere.” The idea of an outdoor picnic made him grin. She told herself that was why she’d come up with the plan. It had nothing to do with Chase’s parting words about seeing her at lunch. She was being a coward. She could admit it.

  Chapter Eight

  She was hiding from him. It would’ve been funny if he hadn’t been so pissed. She hadn’t shown up at lunch and neither had Thea for him to ask about Samara. And then he’d been caught in meetings all afternoon straight through dinner. She was going to make him come find her.

  Very well, he knew she was on campus. Only an idiot would leave the safety of the Program with Paulson gunning for her. And she was no idiot. He showed up at her door around nine after working out. Freshly showered this time. He timed his visit, knowing Luca would be sleeping already, but it was too early for Samara to claim exhaustion.

  She opened the door, still in her work clothes. No pajamas yet. Luca’s light was off and his door was shut. Excellent.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. The glow of a television radiated out into the small entryway. She had one of the larger apartments, but most Program occupants with children were given a house, not an apartment in a main building. There were two bedrooms connected by a tiny room that acted as a foyer, kitchenette and living room all in one. One bathroom was off this room.

  “What are you watching?” he asked, ignoring her question, and striding into the apartment as if he lived here. She hurried after him, almost as if she didn’t want him to see.

  He entered the bedroom and grinned to see a mind-numbing reality show playing. “You like this?”

  She grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. “I was channel surfing.”

  “Don’t get defensive. TV is supposed to be entertaining, that’s the point.”

  “Why are you here, Chase?”

  “I had to come find you, because you’re hiding from me. Why are you hiding from me? You promised not to.”

  “I’m not hiding.”

  “Where did you have lunch, Jonesie?”

  “I took Luca on a little picnic.” But she couldn’t meet his eyes.

  He decided to back off for fear of keeping her on the defensive. “I missed you at lunch. I had to eat with my crew. Their conversation lacked a certain wit.”

  She gave a low snort. “Nice try, Chase. Your so-called crew all have above-average IQs. If the conversation lacked wit, it’s because you all chose not to bring it.”

  He chuckled then reached for her to try to kiss her. Too soon, way too soon. She jumped in his arms like a frightened puppy. “What are you doing, Chase?”

  “Kissing you. I made love to you last night. Is it so out there that I can expect a kiss tonight?”

  She stilled and stopped trying to escape his arms. “We didn’t settle anything last night. In fact, you ran out of here like I lit a fire under your…” She stopped talking, obviously reluctant to curse.

  “You can say it. Ass. You lit a fire under my ass.” He enunciated his words carefully.

  She barely stifled a smile. “My parents did not allow any cursing. Ever. And now that Luca’s around, I try not to do it.”

  “Tell me more about your parents.” He hooked his hand into her elbow and guided her to the bed. She let herself be led and sat, but frowned at him when he got comfortable on the bed also.

  “Why do you want to know about my parents?”

  “I want to know everything about you.” He particularly wanted to know what kind of panties she was wearing under her silky trousers. It looked like her box of ordered clothes had arrived at some point today, and she was garbed in the most boring outfit the working mom’s etailer had to sell, but she still made him want to tear her clothes off. It didn’t detract that he knew he’d find plain cotton panties and minimizing bras under the clothes. He still wanted her.

  “There’s not much to tell. They struggled for years to get pregnant, and finally they had me. My father was a pharmacist and my mother was the administrative assistant at a law office.”

  “Were they strict?”

  “I’m not sure. I never gave them a reason to be strict.”

  “No wild teen years?”

  She smiled. “Not unless you count renting every video at the local video store and staying in on weekends to eat potato chips and watch the movies.”

  “Sounds like a wild and crazy time to me.”

  “Very funny. I was so boring, I put myself to sleep. What about you? Tell me of your wild teen years, and don’t try to lie and tell me you were an angel.”

  Since she hadn’t seemed to notice his hand caressing her forearm, he moved it lower to her thigh and started talking. “I grew up here on campus. I did my best to get in trouble, but when your parental figures have Glocks, you tend not to mess around too badly.”

  “What about your real parents? You told me your mom had killed herself. How old were you?” Her voice was soft and her hand covered his on her thigh.

  “I was fifteen.” He turned to face her and stared intently down at her face, trying to convey without words what he was about to say was important. “She couldn’t handle my father leaving her for another woman. Since she thought they were a match, she couldn’t understand. She blamed herself.” He stared blankly at the wall then turned back to face her. “Loren invited me to lunch with her and her mother.” Something tight in him loosened as he shared with Samara.

  She looked at him expectantly. “And will you go to lunch with them?”

  He shook his head. “I told Loren no.”

  Instead of trying to convince him he should open his mind and welcome his step-mother into his life, Samara caressed his forearm. “I can understand saying no. It would be hard to eat across the table from the woman who wrecked your family.”

  “Well, she didn’t exactly wreck it. Jonathan Keel did that when he screwed with the original matching paperwork. Man, think about it. If he hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t exist. Weird, right?” Speaking of weird, he was defending Loren’s mother. Crazy.

  “Very weird,” she agreed with a small smile. “I guess you sho
uld be thankful for his treachery, and maybe someday you can see your way to meeting Loren’s mom.

  Samara leaned into him but he pushed back. “No, don’t you understand? All this talk about my messed-up family makes me see how you and I are following the same path. It’s like history repeating itself.”

  “I see your point,” she said slowly. “That’s why you panicked last night?”

  “Yeah. It’s upsetting to think I’m walking the same path as my father.”

  “Except with one huge difference.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You have all the facts. You know we’re not a match and can therefore make an informed decision. Your father thought your mother was his match and did his best to adhere to standards, but since he’d already met his match in Loren’s mother, he was never going to be satisfied.”

  “Makes sense.” But it didn’t help either of them find comfort in their future. He couldn’t guarantee that some day he might meet a woman who was his genetic match and want her more than Samara. He stared ahead at a blank spot on the wall, pondering the situation. “Don’t all couples face this dilemma?”

  “No, why would other Program couples face this problem?” She looked confused. “They’ve been correctly matched.”

  “No, I wasn’t only talking about Progam couples. I meant, don’t all couples run the risk of meeting someone later in life who is more attractive to them than their current partner?” he asked.

  “I suppose so. But in other cases, societal mores dictate the original couple should stay together. In our case, everyone would try to tear us apart to put you with your correct match.”

  “Societal mores? Who follows those anymore? Last time I checked the divorce rate in this country was through the roof.”

  “Touché.”

  “I still want to be with you,” he said. “I got scared last night when I realized I was walking the same path as my dad, but then I spent all day realizing I didn’t care. I still want you.”

  “Wanting me sexually is different than wanting a long-term relationship with me and my son,” she said pertly.

  He sighed and toed off his flip-flops to lean back fully on the bed. She didn’t follow him down, and her spine remained stiff. He could only see her sweet profile from where he sat. Nothing about her expression gave her thoughts away. Finally she turned to face him.

  “If we do this, we keep it secret. No kissing me in public. No holding hands. No grand romantic gestures in front of your crew.”

  “What about kissing in private? Is that allowed?” he asked.

  “Oh absolutely.” She practically pounced on him and he caught her, feeling something ease in his chest. His lips pressed down on hers and he swiped a tongue between the seam of her lips, tasting the deliciousness of his Jonesie. There was an urgency there tonight. Something that hadn’t been there the other nights they’d fooled around. He’d been the seducer then. Tonight Samara was taking the lead.

  “What do you want, baby?”

  “You,” she said between kisses.

  “I’m all yours. Any way you want me.”

  She sat up on his hips, straddling his thighs and studied him in a concentrated manner. “Strip,” she said succinctly. She scooted off so he could follow orders.

  Wordlessly, he complied. When he was sprawled nude on the bed, he folded his arms behind his head and waited for his next orders. She gave him an approving nod then turned on the nightstand light. His Jonesie was a voyeur. That was all right, he worked out and had muscles enough to keep her intrigued.

  She curled on the bed next to him and ran her palms up his thigh, over his hip and up to his pecs. He couldn’t help it, his leg actually jerked. A knowing, powerful smile shadowed her lips. “You like when I touch you.”

  “Duh, sweetheart. Keep doing it.” Now his cock twitched hoping for her soft hands to head down his way. But Samara had other ideas.

  “Roll over.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I overheard some women the other day mention you had the best butt on campus. I want to verify the veracity of that statement. And I won’t even ask how the women could hypothesize about the fineness of your rear.”

  If she used any more big words, he was going to come. He rolled to his stomach and turned his head to the side. “I may have a penchant for skinny dipping.”

  “I see.” Amusement danced on her words. “Is this something you do alone?”

  “Well I’m the only one who has the balls to take his clothes off. The rest of the guys are chickenshit. Unless we manage to pants them first. It’s kind of a hazing thing for the newer soldiers.”

  “Well, let me know the date of the next naked soldier swim. I’m not missing it.”

  The idea of Samara seeing his friends in the buff bothered him. “It’s not happening anymore. I’m older and wiser now.”

  “Uh huh,” she said. “When was the last time you graced the pool area nude?”

  “I don’t know, awhile. Six weeks, a month,” he muttered. “Not since Loren moved on campus.”

  “I’m glad you’ve matured so much in such a short time.” He hadn’t known she was capable of snarky. He kind of liked it. But then she got busy with the touching and he forgot all about naked swimming.

  First her nails raked down his back, just hard enough for him to feel the sexy sting, and then her palms flattened, each cupping a globe of his ass. He reached a hand between the mattress and his stomach to adjust his aching cock, which pressed into the bed like a pole.

  When her hands dipped between his thighs to graze his balls, he closed his eyes and concentrated on deep breathing. She wanted to explore his body, and he wanted to give her the chance without jumping on her like the horny dog she turned him into. But he wasn’t going to be able to stave off his needs for long. A wet spot was forming on the mattress above his cock, where it dripped with pre-come.

  “It is a nice butt,” Samara said. “But I think I need to see the front too, for comparison’s sake.”

  He rolled back, grinning up at her. “You are a scientist. We wouldn’t want to withhold any research from you.”

  “True, true,” she agreed and dragged her fingertips down his shaft to his balls. His eyes rolled back in his head. He hoped this was turning her on as much as it did him, because he wasn’t going to have the patience for foreplay. He needed in her. Like now.

  He groaned when she stood next to the bed and stripped out of her work clothes. He’d been right, the most boring bra ever sewn covered her luscious breasts. It was a travesty. One he’d rectify at first opportunity. Too bad if she didn’t like it. Sometimes he was a selfish bastard, and it was best she learn that quickly.

  “Stroke yourself,” she ordered, standing over him with hands on her hips.

  “What?” he asked, hoping he misheard. Why touch himself when she was there in her naked glory? “Again?”

  A flush covered her cheeks, roaming down to her chest. “I loved it.” Her lips thinned firmly.

  “Nuh uh. Not going to do it unless you tell me more.” He purposely rested a hand on his shaft but didn’t grip the base or make any other forward movement.

  “You’re going to make me tell?”

  “Hell yes.”

  “Oh my God.” She looked at a point on the pillow next to his head as she quickly said, “I’ve been handing cups to men to jerk off in since college, but I’d never seen one do it until you the other night. It aroused me. A lot.”

  He loved that she sounded so shocked by the admission. He also loved that she’d shared a fantasy. “Okay, I’ll do it, but only if you do the same.”

  Her brows furrowed. “How can I…” If he hadn’t been painfully aroused, he would have bust a gut laughing at the very demure Doctor Jones miming a hand job.

  “You have fingers, don’t you? Use them.”

  Her lips parted a little into a cute O and she stared as if he’d spoken Chinese. “You want me to masturbate?” she asked in a very quiet voice.

&nbs
p; “Yep. Seems only fair, right?”

  She froze and for a long moment he worried he’d pushed her too far, but then she got on the bed next to him, their sides touching, and propped her knees up, feet planted on the mattress.

  From there on out, it was a race to the finish. He fisted himself and watched her small, narrow fingers part her lips and disappear into the Promised Land. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He was jealous of her fingers. He wanted his fingers there. He switched the hand holding his cock and reached down with his right hand to cover hers. She was slick and wet and it was heaven.

  Her hips surged at his touch and he fought to maintain control.

  After a few minutes she said, “This isn’t working.”

  “What’s not?” he asked. “It’s working great for me, but you need to hold your hips still. I keep losing my place.”

  “It’s not enough,” she gasped. “I want you in me. Filling me.”

  Well okay then. “Condom. In the pocket of my shorts.”

  She sprang off the bed and bent to hunt for his shorts, giving a great view of her perky, curvy ass. “Got it,” she said, holding up a row of small foil packets.

  When he was sheathed to her satisfaction, she straddled him and lowered herself onto him. Her eyes were closed so he could only guess she was in as blissful a place as he. It took everything he had not to come right there.

  But he owed her an orgasm. And an orgasm was what she would get. He grasped her hips and held her in place while grinding his pelvis up against her in a rhythm that had them both panting.

  His balls pulled into his body and he knew he was close. “Lean in on me, sweetheart.” Her eyes opened and they looked at each other as his hands left her hips to cup her breasts.

  She allowed all of her weight to fall into his hands, trusting him to hold her up by her breasts. Her hips rocked against his and soon she was mindlessly racing toward her orgasm, letting him release his.