Tentative fingers along my sides, her soft breath tickling my shoulder. I wanted to dive into her, to explore every depth, map out everything that made her tick. But I would settle for this—her gentle touch. I needed to build trust. The newest deal—one of her creation—was a brilliant solution to that little problem.

Just like newborns with their mothers, simple physical contact could create a bond so strong that nothing could shatter it. And here we were, her in my arms and a contentment I’d never experienced filling my mind to bursting.

“Everything here is yours,” I whispered in her ear as her fingers grew bolder, teasing along my back and then farther up to my neck.

She shivered and placed her other palm over my heart. Her touch flowed along my skin, and I never wanted it to stop.

Meeting my eyes, she placed her palm on my cheek. “Are you doing some robot math right now?”

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t. I was simply existing, my mind silent except for thoughts of her. “No.”

She ran her fingers to my brow and brushed the hair from my face. “How old are you?”

I smiled. “Thirty-two.”

“Ever been married?” Her fingers continued their inspection, teasing around my ear.

“No.”

“Long-term relationship?”

“No.”

She nodded. “Your dad said you were”—her small white teeth nibbled her bottom lip—“aloof, I think was the word he used.”

“I was until you.”

“Lucky me.”

“I think so.” I slipped my fingers beneath the hem of her t-shirt and rubbed her lower back. “I’ve never taken anyone prisoner before you.”

She crinkled her nose. “The fact that you can say that with a blasé attitude is messed up.”

“Perhaps, but I see it differently.”

“You’ve said. This will all make sense to me eventually, right? And I’ll be fine with it?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“Has it ever occurred to you that it won’t work out that way?” She dropped her hand to my shoulder and rested it there.

“No. Because I’m not letting you go, and I know you feel it, too.”

Her nails dug into me. “What does a robot know about feelings, much less my feelings?”

“When you were eight, you rescued a porcupine den when a neighbor began clearing land that threatened their habitat. Even though you had to go to the ER after getting quilled by one of them, you still made sure they were relocated and safe.”

She gawked at me. “How did y—?”

“Newspaper article from your hometown paper.” I shrugged. “When you were sixteen, you were named homecoming queen. The homecoming king, your boyfriend at the time, was the all-American sort. Clean cut, athletic, typical good guy. But in photos from that night, your gaze was always drawn to the leather-wearing, motorcycle-riding young man who was eventually thrown out of the dance for drinking and smoking on school grounds.”

Her eyebrows hit her hairline.

“Your yearbook and a few ancient Myspace posts.”

“Stalker.”

“Yes.” I inched my fingers higher up the skin along her back while she was distracted. “Your favorite movie? The Silence of the Lambs. Favorite book? Tess of the D’Ubervilles. I found out all of this after we met. Each fact building on the last until I had a solid image of you, one that matched the what my intuition had already told me. You were made for me. Your whole life, you’ve played the fair damsel, waiting for her prince charming to sweep her off her feet. But that’s not who you are.”

“You have no idea who I am.” She drew her hand away.

I tsked. “Your trip to the city is in danger.”

She scowled and draped her arm over my side, her fingertips brushing against my back.

“Better.” I slid my fingers higher, greedily touching as much of her as possible. “When your parents died within six months of each other, Link swooped in to the rescue. You let him. But he was a crutch that turned into something that was never meant to be. You used him.”

“No. That’s a lie.”

“You did. Used him, led him on despite the fact you had no intention of ever moving to the city with him. Wouldn’t even let him fuck you—thanks for that, by the way.”

Her body turned to stone, her nails digging into my back. She wanted to storm away from me, to give a furious denial, but she wanted to go to the city more. I’d caught her in her own trap. She’d have to stay here, in my arms, while I told her why we were perfect together.

“I crunched the data, and I found you. The real you. The one who wants a monster instead of a man. You enjoy dancing with the devil. Our deals? You play the good girl, but you wanted my kiss.” I nuzzled into her ear. “I can’t stop thinking about your taste, the sounds you made.”

Her nails raked down my back. “Stop.”

“That’s my girl.” I smirked and met her eyes again. Her hard nipples hadn’t escaped my notice. Neither had the wet heat between her thighs. “No one knows you. Not really. Not like I do. And I don’t judge you. I’m drawn to your spark of darkness the same way you’re drawn to the ocean of mine. We aren’t magnets pulled together by a weak force; we create our own gravity for each other.”

Her eyes narrowed, but the denial in her mind didn’t pass her lips. Did she know it wouldn’t ring true?

“Have you ever told Veronica how much you wanted me that night we danced?”

Her gaze darted away. “You’ve manufactured all these conjectures into one big hypothesis that you’ll never be able to prove. Scientific method fail.”

“We’ll see.” I hugged her closer, tucking her against my chest.

“And you’re cheating with your hand under my shirt.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I flattened my palm against her smooth skin.

A sting erupted along my pec, the pain intensifying until I relaxed my hand on her back. She’d bitten me. Hard.

My semi turned into the hardest erection I’d had in my life. “Do that again, and I’ll be forced to bury my face in your cunt until you learn how to behave.” Please do it again.

She huffed and settled her head on my bicep. “Go to sleep. I’m tired of your robot analysis and your stalking and—really, I’m just tired of you.”

“Sure you are.” I relished the reverberating pain of her teeth marks. “Next time, draw blood.”

“Psycho.”

I kissed her hair again and relaxed into my pillow. “Your psycho.”