Nero’s eyebrows shot up. “Twenty million? That’s a hell of a lot of money to turn down, Kyra.”
“It wasn’t hard at all,” she said firmly. Kyra frowned and remembered how disgusted she had been by the offer. “The next time I set foot in that lab will be the last steps I take in this life.”
Nero set down his cup and put both hands over his ears. “I refuse to listen to your Mad Max plans. You know that shit deeply disturbs me.”
Kyra put down her cup and pulled Nero’s hands from his ears, gripping his fingers with hers.
“If anything happens to me, you’re the only one left who can change this. Copies of my research will be everywhere by then, but it would take the inexperienced scientists too long to come up to speed. They’ll need someone with your kind of brain to undo this mess, Nero. Jackson was the father of cyborgs, and I am their regretful mother. You may have to be their savior instead of me. Promise me you’ll try if it comes to that.”
Frowning, Nero used their linked hands to tug Kyra into his arms for a hug. The thought of something happening to her sickened him. “You know I’ll always carry on your work one way or the other. But I won’t have to if you stick around and do it yourself. Don’t do anything stupid, Kyra. That’s not your style.”
Kyra nodded against his shoulder. When had the dark-haired, dark-eyed teen she’d met morphed into the hard-muscled, chiseled-jawed man in her arms? She pulled back to look up at him. The product of planet conscious parents, he was an only child just as she had been. Nero’s father Rajesh was full Indian and a brilliant research doctor. His mother Althea was from Euro-Roman stock and a family that produced nothing but beautiful heirs. The boy had gotten the best of both his parents, but his father’s genetics had won out.
“I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’m just going to do what’s necessary. Now turn off the sweeper, Nero. I don’t need the UCN investigators showing up on my doorstep today. I still have to talk my restored cyborg into letting me fake seduce him.”
Nero pulled back to look down at her. “I half wish it wasn’t only pretending, and totally wish he wasn’t a cyborg. I would like to see you happy, Kyra.”
Shaking her head at the improbability of anything real ever happening between her and Peyton Elliott, Kyra pulled away. She didn’t need Nero to remind her about the seriousness of her situation. She thought of it each time she contemplated Peyton having to pretend to be her Cyber Husband. She counseled herself about the need for the deception as she carried both their empty tea cups to the sanitizer.
***
Peyton felt his processor shift his body to full alert when the lab door open. Kyra walked to her desk, picked up the forgotten key fob, and pointed it at the cage. The door of his prison slid to one side. He picked up the reading device and walked cautiously to the opening.
“I thought you said I’d get out tomorrow. Is this another test, Doc? You’re not going to start chanting codes again the minute I step across this threshold are you?”
“No. I’m letting you out early. You’ve shown no indications of mental illness outside normal ranges.” Kyra tossed the key fob back on the desk and sat in her chair. She swiveled it to face him instead of the console.
“Plus—I still have this.” She held up her wrist where his mobile restraint controller flashed the active and armed status every few seconds. “In case you have any ideas about being fast enough to stop me from using it, this one is my own tweaked version. The device is monitoring all my vitals and my stress levels. In case of my death, or even what it determines is a threat, such as a significant pause in my breathing, a failsafe command will send current running continuously through your restraints until I shut it off. The pain level has been specifically set to upper range cyborg levels so it will incapacitate you long enough for your apprehension. I can’t have the UCN killing every existing cyborg just because they think you went unexplainably rogue on me.”
“You know—you’re pretty sharp at strategic planning for a scientist. Think you’ve covered all the bases, Doc?”
Peyton paused at the open cage door and took a moment to look around the lab. It looked a little less intimidating without the bars blocking his vision. He looked back at Kyra and saw her shaking her head.
“No. I try never to assume anything conclusively. But I used to create men like you for a living and I know how dangerous you can be. I consider my initial precautions of locking you up to be a form of healthy fear. If you kill me after I take the mobile restraints off you. . .? Well, I guess that will be my fault then, won’t it?”
Despite Kyra’s relaxed state about letting him out, Peyton was still wary as he stepped completely outside the cage. When nothing bad happened, he walked slowly toward her. As nuts as it seemed to his scrambled brain, he wanted to get close enough to smell her again. His lower body twitched in excitement at the potential of arousing her.
“How about we call a temporary truce? After everything I read this morning, I’m at least half convinced now about your reformation. Until I get fully convinced one way or the other, I’m willing to cooperate with your mad scientist plans. Hell, I think mostly I want to see what you’re up to. We may have to discuss my patience limit again later if it doesn’t happen fast enough though.”
“Say no more, Captain Elliott. I understood your compliance was conditional after the first threat. And like I told the man who delivered you to me—you’re not my first cyborg.”
After she’d finished, Kyra swiveled in the chair again and this time turned her back to Peyton. She heard his surprise at her action in his grunt. She also heard him walk away from her. His retreat brought her a little more ease in his company.
“I’m choosing to trust you too, Captain. I have no choice because things are escalating. I turned down a huge sum of money to return to Norton shortly after I bought you. I’m sure the UCN chancellors are still debating why I did that.”
Peyton studied the way her hair fell forward, unsure why he had noticed. “I see we’re back to discussing your UCN conspiracy theory. So what’s the next item on your cyborg restoration coup list?”
“In about twenty minutes, we’re going outside the lab. We’ll spend two days making sure any hidden surveillance has picked up your presence in my home as my Cyber Husband. Hopefully we can leave my house after that and it will look like our ‘honeymoon’ trip. Before we leave the lab though, I would like to make the recording I mentioned. Will you take off your shirt please?”
Peyton stopped pacing around the lab looking at things. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “Sorry—what did you say?”
Kyra sighed, hating that she had to say it again. “If you’re willing to help me, I need you to take off your shirt so we can make the recording. Like I mentioned earlier, we’re going to make a fake sex tape for the UCN’s investigators to find.”
She turned her head and adjusted the camera on the far wall until it was pointed toward the operating chair. “There. That should do it.”
Kyra stood then and walked to where Peyton was standing and staring at her in confusion. Up close the man was taller and bigger than she remembered. She swallowed her nervousness and hoped he hadn’t picked up on it. She took a couple deep breaths hoping they were enough to calm her thundering heartbeat.
“So here are the ground rules, Captain Elliott. I’m not going to ask you to do anything but kiss me. Any arousal you get will be your responsibility to deal with afterward. And you are not to undress me no matter what I say for the sake of the recording. For what we are doing, I don’t think it’s necessary that I be naked. Please try to play along to the best of your ability. I would like this to be as convincing as possible.”
Peyton grinned. “Convincing, huh? Okay. Are you planning to straddle my lap again?”
He was secretly amused by her disclaimers. He vividly remembered her crying last time they kissed. Then suddenly the memory of how badly he had wanted to soothe her slid across it all, effectively wiping his amusement away. K
yra’s nervousness was making him want to reassure her now, but he decided her suffering might serve him better.
“So. . .how are we playing this, Doc?”
Kyra dropped her gaze from Peyton’s. “I suppose straddling your lap is the best idea. That way we’ll both be in the camera’s frame at the same time.”
“You’re making me dizzy with lust just talking about it. Remind me again why we’re doing this. I’m planning to chant it as a mantra so I can behave myself while I’m under you,” Peyton ordered.
“Stop. Don’t be flip about this. Thinking I’m as sexually depraved as Jackson is a hell of lot better than the UCN suspecting I’ve restored your human decision making abilities. Now will you help me do this or not? You have as much to lose as I do if we don’t get this right.”
Peyton shrugged. “Okay already. Stop defending your idea. I’m in. But all your talk of kinky stuff is making me feel very dirty, Doc. Can I take a shower first?”
He had asked just to see what Kyra would say in reply to his teasing. Her instant reaction of stepping close to him and sniffing had his mouth twitching along with everything else below his waist. He ended up returning the favor without even meaning to.
Kyra shrugged as she backed away. “You’re tolerable for the moment and I want to get this over with. You can shower afterward if you like. Then we’ve got several other important things to do.”
Shaking his head at her matter-of-factness about how he smelled, Peyton pulled off his shirt. He allowed himself a satisfied smirk when Kyra’s gaze swept over his chest for a full thirty seconds before she cleared her throat. It was gratifying to know he could shut down that damn scientist brain of hers for even two seconds. The flush from her reaction climbed her face and tightened the semi-erection he always seemed to get in her presence. To cope, he ordered his processor to run full scale diagnostics. Hopefully, the amount of information gathering would keep his mind too distracted to let his dick get completely hard.
“You’re staring, Dr. Winters. Keep looking at me like that and you may get more than you expect from this exercise,” he warned.
Kyra shook her head trying to clear it. “I’m sorry for staring. It’s just been awhile since I saw a shirtless man. That’s all.”
When she turned her back to him and started for the chair, Peyton hustled around her. He was seated by the time Kyra walked to it. She looked totally suspicious about his sudden enthusiasm, but tightened her jaw. He smiled at the thought of keeping her a bit unbalanced. Inwardly he admitted that he was looking forward to touching her again. Anticipation made his head throb a bit as he got comfortable in the chair.
Kyra raised a tiny remote and pointed it at her work console, her quick gaze telling him they were recording already. “Okay, Peyton. Let’s try these tests again. I’m starting the official recording in 5, 4, 3, 2, . . .” She spoke the date and time in a louder voice that she hoped sounded scientific instead of breathless at the idea of kissing Peyton again.
“Are we using the chair restraints this time? I don’t understand what I am doing to displease you, Dr. Winters. I am programmed to please my wife. Just tell me what you want me to do,” Peyton ordered huskily. He grinned at Kyra’s blooming blush at hearing his bedroom voice again.
For the sake of the recording, Kyra considered the bands dangling from the arms of the chair as she stood between his legs. Finally, she shook her head while looking at him. “No restraints this time, Peyton. I want your hands free.”
Peyton nodded and smiled. He pulled out the first phrase from his files that seemed like an appropriate response. “What pleases my wife pleases me. Tell me what you desire and I will do as you command.”
Kyra did her best to ignore the effect his whispered words had on her body. Stepping up between Peyton’s legs, she felt heat radiating from his chest and automatically backed away. Surprise had her drawing in a breath when Peyton’s hands circled her waist and dragged her over his lap until she was pretty much where she’d been when they had kissed before.
Her heart pounded hard in sensual alarm as she settled her body over his. Hands free, Peyton’s touch was confident and sure, and also way more aggressive than she’d been prepared to deal with. For a reality check, she had to remind herself that Peyton had enough strength to break her in two if he wanted.
“Is this good for you?” Peyton whispered the question and watched Kyra’s head nod, but she didn’t say anything in answer. He gripped her tighter, holding her in place over where he ached for her, whether it was what she had planned for him to do or not. The predominant thought in his mind was how much better holding her was when he could touch her like he wanted.
“Peyton. . .” Kyra whispered softly. She was embarrassed that she had to clear her throat of huskiness to speak more clearly. Her stammering should at least make the video believable concerning their sexual attraction.
She raised both her hands to his very wide shoulders. In return, Peyton’s fingers lightly stroked along her waist while he pulled her across the hardness in his lap with every stroke. With her knees spread she was rubbing against his arousal. Orgasm was highly possible even with so gentle a motion. The man really had been trained well. She wouldn’t be able to maintain the ruse that it meant nothing for long. Climaxing would defeat her purpose before she’d even started.
“Rip the front of my shirt open, Peyton.” Kyra issued the false order, struggling to make it firm. He was making it nearly impossible for her to think of anything but what he was doing to her.
“According to Lovemaking Guideline thirty-four point six point eight, too much aggression is prohibited and constitutes a violation of Cyber Husband programming,” Peyton argued huskily. He felt clever for citing that regulation in response.
His hands slid from Kyra’s small waist down to her curvy hips allowing him to increase the pressure of her in his lap. He was sixty-five point two percent done with his cyber diagnostics and eighty-seven point nine percent erect under her. Damn it. Evil scientist or not, Kyra Winters and her barely audible panting was driving him insane with the need to act. He wanted to do this with her for real.
“What if I told you that your programming is insufficient to arouse me, Peyton 313? What if I told you that I need you to be more assertive than your programming advises? Can you exceed that limit when I ask you to?”
He slid his hands under the shirt Kyra was wearing and deftly unhooked her bra at the back. Grinning, he fought not to sigh with satisfaction as she pressed down hard on the part of him that ached for her. Her groan made him deliriously satisfied with himself.
“Kiss me while I run a full analysis of your complaint,” Peyton ordered, no longer working at the huskiness of his tone.
As Kyra’s mouth covered his reluctantly, Peyton slid his hands to the front to cup her soft naked breasts. Little beaded points burned tiny holes into his palms, even the cybernetic one. His mind responded like a game machine to what they were doing. Sensation after sensation was being recorded, firing across every part of his brain. One hundred percent erection under her was achieved in three point two seconds of her mouth on his. He instinctively pressed Kyra down harder on it for relief, but had to ease up when she called out against his mouth.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I have no wish to hurt you,” Peyton said sincerely, the words tumbling over each other on the way out.
Stunned by how close she was to forgetting the original purpose of their make-out session, Kyra pulled away from Peyton and sighed loudly. The truth was that she was shaking with arousal and figured he probably knew it.
But it was also true that he still didn’t like her very much.
It helped to remember that.
“I know you don’t want to hurt me, Peyton. That’s our whole damn problem here. This isn’t working for us. Run shut down code Tango Charlie 76585.”
Since it was part of the programming she had specifically changed in Peyton, Kyra used her hand on his neck to indicate that he should roll his head to the
side and pretend to be rendered unconscious.
Peyton did as he hoped Kyra wanted, but left his eyes open and staring. He didn’t want to miss any chance of seeing her get naked to right her clothes. He ordered his cybernetic eyes to capture an image every three seconds so he wouldn’t miss anything if she did.
Still shaking, Kyra slid from Peyton’s lap. Keeping her gaze on him, she reached up under her shirt and fastened her bra back. When she was done, she shook her head and sighed as loudly as she could again. The frustration she felt was real, but the reason for it was a hell of a lot different than what the recording would indicate.
“Damn it, I programmed you and I swear I’m going to find that violence override if it kills me. You’re my last hope, Peyton. Don’t be like those two duds before you. I’m tired of failing.”
Frowning, she turned to where the camera would see her face as she pointed her remote and counted the seconds until the recording stopped.
“Okay. It’s done. Thank you, Captain Elliot. You were very convincing.”
Peyton rolled his head back and looked at her completely clothed body in surprise. Fuck the recording. He was pissed for another reason. “How the hell did you get your bra refastened without removing your shirt?”
Kyra rolled her eyes at the question. “Stop that. My breasts are not worth the price of a ticket. They’re average for my age and unaltered.”
“They’re warm, soft, and fit my hands well. Plus your nipples are quite responsive. Why didn’t you let me give you an orgasm? Your increased respiration and rapid panting indicated you were very close.”
“I didn’t let you because I’m unwilling to reciprocate. That wouldn’t be fair to you—or me—because I don’t think one time would be enough,” Kyra said.
It was difficult to ignore her wet panties as she sat back down at her work desk. She looked over to see Peyton still sitting in the operating chair. He was all but glaring again. Renewed guilt made her wince. “You can get up now, Peyton. We’re all done.”
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