by Alisha Rai
A change of subject was called for. “You never told me what you dream about.”
“What’s that?”
“Quid pro quo, right? I show you mine, you show me yours? I more than showed you mine, güey.”
“Oh. Um. I was joking.”
“You shouldn’t throw out jokes unless you’re ready to back them up with action,” she teased. “Come on, now.”
“Nah. I don’t dream, not really.”
“Now who’s lying?”
“Lots of people forget their dreams,” he protested.
“Not you. You’re too detail oriented and aware of everything to shut yourself down at night.” No, there was something he didn’t particularly want to tell her. He was rattled, and like always, it tickled her. “Tell me. Is it unicorns? You dream about unicorns, right?”
“Yes. Unicorns. I love ’em. They prance through my sleep on cotton-candy clouds.”
“Or maybe you dream that you’re naked in front of a crowd and you have to recite the Gettysburg Address.”
His voice deepened. “Occasionally, I am naked, no lie.”
Jules licked her lips. How he could send her from despair and sadness to laughter to arousal with simple changes in pitch and tone was beyond her. “Is that right? Well now, that image is sure to haunt me.”
“I’d worry over whether you meant that in a good way or a bad way, but since you’ve never seen me, I don’t think you can mean either.”
“That would be cool.”
“What?”
“If I knew what you looked like,” she blurted out, and then felt immediately foolish.
Christ. Could she be any more of a girl?
He was silent. No doubt thinking of how to extricate himself from this. She opened her mouth at the same moment he spoke. “Is that…important to you?”
“Knowing what you look like?”
“Yes.”
“No.” She squirmed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you’ve been in my head for so long, I felt like… I didn’t mean to cross any lines, so please forget…”
“No. Of course it makes sense that you would wish to see me, especially when I know what you look like.”
“How do you know what I look like?”
“Sometimes if I’m tuned in to you and you pass a mirror or your reflection, I catch a glimpse.”
Oh. That certainly made her feel vulnerable, though she knew that wasn’t his intent. “I guess when I said you’re detail oriented, I wasn’t wrong, huh?”
“Like I said, I know it’s not fair. If you want, we can try…” He hesitated. “Are you in a secure location? Can you put on your specs?”
As secure as she would ever get, and even with the VR specs on, she could still hear fine. Mystified, she leaned over the side of the bed and pulled them out of her knapsack. They looked like plastic goggles a mad scientist might wear, with a strong rubber band that went around the back of the head to keep them from slipping off. They were black, and a cord dangling off the side plugged them into a side slot on her collar.
“I have them. Am I training now?” She knew how to fight, but since Sanctuary had supplied her with this newfangled technology along with her collar, she’d started combat training with the virtual-reality goggles on. When she plugged it into her collar, James was able to upload virtual assailants for her to fight against.
It felt real to her. She supposed she looked like a fool, but no one was ever around to see her, and it served to keep her reflexes sharp.
“Not exactly. We’ve been working on something, and I want to see if it works. Put them on.”
She slipped them over her head and plugged them into the collar, staring into the blank nothingness of the glasses. “Done.”
“Give me a second.”
A second was all it took. For her combat training, James usually uploaded a program that gave her a weight room backdrop. That wasn’t what she saw now. This was a pastoral scene. Green grass lay in a rolling carpet, up to a house in the distance. Weeping willows kissed the ground.
Pretty.
Possibly the prettiest thing she’d seen in a while. The last time she’d come across a park, the overgrown lawn and weed-choked playground had depressed the hell out of her.
There was a moment of disorientation, and the scene became three dimensional. She wasn’t a watcher any longer, she was in it. The bed beneath her morphed into the soft grass. The chirp of birds sang in her ears, the trickle of a nearby river running merrily along.
Not pretty. Beautiful. Christ, how long had it been since she had experienced a quiet that was peaceful instead of fraught with the silence of those who had lived and died or run away?
She raised her hand to shade her eyes from the too-bright sun, watching as a colorful bird jumped from one branch of the tree to the next. The brush of her arm against something soft had her glancing down to find herself garbed, not in her usual rough clothes, but in a white satin halter dress with blue flowers strewn over it. Bemused, she touched the skirt. She didn’t own any dresses, and she certainly never wore white. It showed bloodstains too well.
“Jules?”
She didn’t jump, though the temptation was there. No one ever, ever crept up on her back. But she knew that voice, and she knew who would be standing there.
Her heart skipped a beat or two. Savoring the moment, she slowly came to her feet and turned around, wanting to prolong her first glimpse of the voice in her ear, the man in her head.
He stood directly behind her, the perfect breeze ruffling the plain beige handspun shirt he wore. Below, he wore loose pants in a similar material, which were hanging off his lean hips. Her gaze traveled upward to his face. Strong and elegant, the bone structure and high cheekbones made him appear to be a prince from long ago. His brown hair was cut short, but that didn’t hide the way it curled. She had to clench her hands from reaching out and feeling if it was as soft as it looked.
He was tall, much taller than her own five feet three inches. His body wasn’t overly muscular, but he appeared solid, like a marathon runner or a swimmer. Bright green eyes studied her intently, seeming to catalogue every inch of her. What was he looking for?
He made the first overture. His smile was shy, heartbreakingly so. “Hi.”
“Ah. Hello.”
He cleared his throat and grasped her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The absurd pleasantry made her smile more than it should have. “I met you over a year ago.”
“But face-to-face…”
“Yes.” She looked down at their hands, which were joined together. “Why didn’t we do this before?” It would have been nice to put a face on him, to see who he was, hear his deep baritone coming from a person’s mouth.
“Reliably running a multiplayer virtual reality set is challenging. The logistics of it are complicated, particularly when we want the players to engage with each other, for, say, more realistic training purposes. We’re linked together.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “I can feel you as you feel me. We’re talking in real time. But really, we’re both projected images in a projected setting.”
“So, we’re like in each other’s brains right now?”
“Kind of, but not exactly.”
“Oh. Clear as mud.”
His full lips curled up. “Sometimes it’s that vague to me too. I’m not a programmer, so I don’t get all of the nitty-gritty.”
She’d bet money he knew more than she did. She was able to work the technology he’d given her, but that was because of sheer determination and really good instructions. Her family had been too poor to afford so much as a cheap computer when she’d been growing up. She certainly never gave much thought to the ins and outs of how something she used worked.
She glanced away from his mouth to study a bee buzzing near the closest tight bud. “This place is nice.”
“Thank you. It’s a default I can’t take credit for.” With an efficiency of motion, he pulled her closer, tucking her fingers into
the crook of his arm and resting his hand on top of hers, beginning to walk down the path. Since she was attached to him, she followed, her first steps stumbling in her surprise. “The programmer uploaded this in the beta program. More of a joke, really.”
Whether he was just an image projected in her mind or not, his arm was strong and solid beneath her fingers. Her steps seemed awkward compared to his, since she wasn’t used to wearing a dress or walking while being led like this. She’d had a few boyfriends back in the day, not that she remembered them well. They’d either been addicted to drugs or violence. Like her. Certainly, she’d never strolled down a lane arm in arm with any of them. They would have laughed at the prospect, and so would she. She was so not that type of girl.
Except she kinda liked it. So maybe she was that type of woman.
Confusing.
She took a deep breath of the sunshine-scented air. It was even purer than the Colorado air, if that was possible. “Why a joke?”
“The purpose of the program was to allow combat training between two individuals instead of a program. They thought it would be funny for the first couple of testers to fight in paradise. There’s also a carnival setting.”
“I saw a carnival once when I was a kid. I could believe a fight to the death would be set there.”
He smiled, a quick flash of even, straight teeth. “Indeed.”
“I like the dress.”
He ducked his head, bringing her to a stop next to a bubbling pond. “Do you?”
“I saw something similar to it in a store window a couple of weeks ago…” He’d been talking to her at the time, she realized, as she’d walked down Rodeo Drive. He must have seen it through her. “Oh.”
A light flush crested the top of his cheekbones. “You stopped in front of it, and I could see you in the reflection. It looked good on you.”
She stroked her fingers over the skirt. Though dresses had never been her thing, Jules could admit she occasionally found them pretty and wondered what it would be like to put one on. Maybe twirl around. “Thanks. I swear, you notice everything. Including the fact that I kind of wanted to run in and grab this thing.”
“You’re the last person to loot.”
“Mmm.” Another thing she clung to to separate herself from her previous life. She grabbed necessities, but there was no point in taking the dead’s luxuries. A dress was frivolous. Where would she wear it, the zombie prom?
“You spent a long time looking at it.” He glanced down at her body, his green eyes lingering over her. She felt their touch like a lick of fire on her spine. “It’s very feminine.”
“I’m a woman.”
“I can tell.”
“Can you?” The words popped out. It was one thing to flirt when she couldn’t see him. She’d assumed that was part of the reason she felt so comfortable doing it, that it wouldn’t be the same when they were face-to-face. Guess not.
James’s gaze returned to her lips. His pupils dilated as he wordlessly nodded.
“Oh.” She dug her fingers into his arm. Sometimes the people she rescued hugged and kissed her, but it had been a long time since she’d touched someone she l— cared for. He felt real, looked real, smelled real. She could almost forget that this wasn’t any different from a computer game. Reach next level. Make out with handler. “What now?”
He licked his lips. “I should let you go to sleep.”
What? No. Disappointed, she let her hand drop from his arm. He didn’t even try to hang on to it, the jerk. “Oh.”
“But I can’t. Yet.”
She paused and shot him a questioning glance. His answering smile was wry. A dimple in his cheek winked at her. He had dimples!
“I need to do something, and I’ll probably never get another chance, so bear with me.” His fingers brushed against the hollow of her throat. The tips were callused. The hands of a laborer, the mind of a genius.
She was hyperaware of the rough skin rasping against the hollow of her throat. He didn’t have to urge her forward. She swayed, caught by the romanticism of the gesture. His lips met hers gently, tenderly. They settled over hers, parting, giving her a chance to push him away.
She didn’t. She couldn’t. Instead, she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to gain entrance, sweep inside.
Oh Lord, his taste. Did he really taste like this outside of this imaginary world, a combination of mint and his own, unique male flavor? She could dine, feast on him.
Maybe it only felt so damn good because of how long it had been since she had kissed a man. The way her nipples peaked put lie to that thought. Even if this had been her hundredth kiss, even if she’d fucked a hundred men, the pure, wonderful, could-not-be-missed enjoyment of his lips on hers couldn’t be fake.
There was a desperation in his touch, as if he had to implant her taste in his memory. As if they really never would have this chance again, a thought she didn’t want to dwell on. Not now, at least. The happiness soaring through her at this display, this confirmation that the feelings she’d been nurturing weren’t one-sided, was too precious to mar with thoughts of never again.
His tongue darted out to brush at the seam of her lips. She opened hers, inviting him in, and he took swift advantage. She caught the tip of his tongue when he flicked it against her lips, drawing her mouth around it and creating suction.
His body stiffened, and he leaned into her. She sank her fingers into his hair, pressing his mouth harder against hers, suddenly greedy, wanting to crawl inside and taste him until she could have his flavor in her mouth forever. When she slept, when she hunted, when she ate…always.
She kissed him so ferociously their teeth clinked. He made a choked sound and backed off. “Sorry,” he murmured.
“No, I’m sorry.” She’d apologize for anything if it would get his body plastered against hers again. She reached for him, bringing him back, this time gently fitting her lips to his, letting her tongue roam his mouth.
He liked that, his hands smoothing up and down her back in an encouraging motion. She slanted her mouth, thinking that perhaps that would take the kiss deeper. It did.
It also made his touch more insistent.
The tips of his fingers coasted down to rest on the curve of her ass. His hands clenched the slightest bit, his fingers biting into the muscle and flesh.
She arched her hips forward in response, nudging the significant bulge of his cock through the loose fabric of his pants. A rush of heat exploded in her belly. Do that again.
It appeared that he had that same little devil of a voice ringing in his head too. His large hand slid down until it covered her ass cheek, the fabric of the dress and her panties no more than a tiny barrier.
Why, if he’d dressed her, had he given her panties?
The inane thought disappeared when he urged her closer, until his hard cock nestled in the notch between her legs. He squeezed her ass more insistently, opening and closing his hand on her flesh. Despite her lack of recent experience, her body knew exactly what to do, and she reacted as if a prod was being applied to her behind, rubbing against his body like a cat in heat while their kiss became hotter, deeper, wetter.
That wasn’t the only thing that was getting wetter. The rush of moisture between her legs made her more insistent to appease that emptiness yawning inside of her. She inserted her hand between them until she could reach the drawstring at his waist. With one quick tug she had it undone, the fabric instantly loosening enough for her to slide her hand inside.
He made a rough noise when she closed her fist around the hot length of his dick, all smooth and thick and curved. Experimentally, she squeezed, and it ripped another moan from him. So she did it again, this time stroking up until she got to the mushroom-capped head.
When her hand slipped over the wet tip, he ripped his mouth away, his chest rising and falling in rapid sequence. “Jules.”
She prided herself on being a great multitasker, but it felt as though all of her energy was focused on the need inside her and t
he hot cock in her hands. No time to talk.
He was tall enough that she couldn’t quite reach his mouth without standing on her tiptoes. That was far too much work, so she settled for latching on to the side of his neck, sucking that skin between her teeth as she moved her hand down his shaft.
His pants were in the way. Everything was in the way, and she hated it. She wanted him completely bare, and she wanted to be naked herself as they touched each other in this paradise. She pressed frantic kisses against the side of his throat, working her way down to the hollow where she did her damnedest to leave her mark on him. She added a twist to the upward motion of her hand.
A full-body shudder ran through him. He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and grabbed her arm with the other, stilling her motion. Now why’d he go and do that? She continued kissing whatever skin was exposed by the V of his shirt, dying to rip the thing off.
“Stop.” His voice was commanding, with none of its usual solicitude and pleasantry.
No one would ever call Jules a pushover, or even particularly submissive. But the firm tone instantly made her go still, some female instinct responding to her male.
Not your male.
For this moment, in this world he’d created for them, he was. She turned her head so her cheek rested against his collarbone. Her mouth, unlike her body, could never be stilled. “Why?”
“We shouldn’t.”
“You were the one who kissed me first,” she reminded him mildly.
“Trust me, I know.” He drew her hand away from his hardness with seeming reluctance. By the time she opened her eyes he’d jerked the pants over his arousal.
A flash of disappointment ran through her. Damn it all, she’d wanted to see it. She liked penises, and it had been a while since she’d gotten to play with one. Especially one attached to a man she actually liked and respected. “So why stop?” He was still ready to go—she could see that much.
He leaned his forehead against hers, his lashes sweeping down to hide his eyes. “Because this isn’t real.”
