Offensive Behavior (Sidelined #1) (33 page)

“Would
you still love me if I was fat?”

“The
question is do I love you after you destroyed my shirt?” He studied her as if
considering new information. “There were only four of those in the world. Dev
sacrificed his to a small kitchen fire. Sarina refused to wear hers because we
only had one size made and it was basically a dress on her.” He rolled his eyes
in disgust. “Her brother mows the lawn in it. Owen has the last remaining original
Plus Better Together t-shirt in captivity.”

“Did
you just invalidate my question by asking me another one?”

“Why,
yes, I believe you caught me out there.” He held his wine glass up to her and
she clinked it. He took a sip. “Hard to imagine you fat.”

She kicked
him under the table. “That’s not an answer.”

“Yeah,
it is. I don’t think of you as skinny. You’re my Flygirl. You’d be my Flygirl
if you had one leg, a patch over your eye and scissors for hands.”

“How
come you can imagine me with a peg leg but not fat?”

“Give
me a minute.” He rocked back in his chair and closed his eyes.

A grin
tickled the corners of his mouth until it was all teeth. “Yeah, I got it. Soft
round belly on you.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Tits heavy in my
hands, ass I can pump, hips and thighs I can get a good hold on.” It was dimly
lit in here but he still saw her blush. His grin got bigger. “Yeah, Flygirl,
I’d still love you if you were fat.”

She
stared at him, as he signaled the waiter for their check, as he stood and
reached for her hand. “But try not to go bald before I do.”

She
laughed, he had such thick hair it was hard to imagine him bald. She ignored
his waiting hand, but felt it tap her ass as she skipped past him. “And no
destroying any more of my favorite clothes.” On the pavement outside the
bistro, he caught her around the waist and growled in her ear, “Unless you want
to.”

They
strolled back to the apartment, stopping frequently so she could make herself
fat on Reid’s kisses, tug on his hair and imagine him bald. Halfway home he
pulled her into one of those gated parks and down on a shadowy bench where they
gorged themselves on each other as if they hadn’t spent the morning doing
exactly that. But this was slow and easy with muffled laughter and half-started
conversations that were dumped for a maddening caress, or the teasing of one of
those spots in her neck that spider web connected to other places where
pleasure bloomed.

Zarley
wore a dress, and this was almost a landmark and they hadn’t done landmark sex,
but heck the whole city was a landmark. She shifted from sitting sidesaddle on
Reid’s lap to straddling him. It’s not like he stopped her. City of Love and
all that. Whole bridges buried by love locks that were going to disappear into the
Seine devoted to the concept. Who was going to care about one overexcited
foreigner and her not doing a thing to be more sensible beau?

“If I
get arrested,” she said, hand on his belt buckle.

“I’ll
bail you out.”

The
buckle unbuckled; the zipper unzipped. Reid’s mouth was the air she needed to
breathe.

“Like
this dress,” he said, hands under it, lips to her neck. She twitched when he
got a finger inside her panties, curled it around the fabric and dragged the
triangle aside. “Feel you, so wet.”

“Feel
you, so hard.”

“Your
fault. Lasted a long time without fighting a permanent hard-on, till you.”

She
would’ve laughed but he chose that moment to hitch her closer, so she got that
hardness almost, almost where she wanted it. She groaned and he cut it off with
a kiss. She put her knees to the bench so she had leverage and eased herself
down on him. His turn to vocalize, he tried to bury it in her throat, but no
one who came past would be under any illusion what they were doing.

He
rocked her slow, flexing his hips to push into her, hands on her ass to make it
deep. She folded forward, her arms around his neck, biting on his earlobe. He
hissed, stopped moving, muscles going rigid and his hand coming up to hold her
face to his shoulder, in a protective way.

“We
have company.”

“Oh my
God.”

“Keep
walking, pal.”

She
held still, waited for shame, fear, any emotion other than what she did feel to
flood her system. They didn’t come. Thrill beat a tempo in her blood faster
than her pulse. This was like the window except more. She turned her face and saw
the other man. Jeans and t-shirt, hair falling to his shoulders, a piercing in
his brow and an intricate tattoo making a sleeve to his wrist. He was young and
handsome, maybe a student like her.

“Keep
walking,” Reid repeated.

“She’s
beautiful.”

He
wasn’t French.

“Fuck
off.”

“I
don’t mean any harm. Please, I want to watch. My name is Ancel, I’m French
Canadian, I’m studying here.”

“Fuck—”

Zarley
brought Reid’s face to hers, she was panting, trembling, wanted to move on him
so badly.

“You
want him to watch?”

“Yes. Ah-hah.”
She almost came from saying it; from the shock of wanting it.

“You’re
sure?”

She
pressed her forearms to Reid’s chest and moved on him.

“God, Flygirl.”
He met her glide with a thrust.

She set
a ragged rhythm with Reid’s hands to support her. She looked for Ancel.

“Thank
you,” he said. His eyes were all over her.

She
shouldn’t like it, but it was night and Paris and Ancel’s eyes and Reid’s voice
in her ear saying he loved her, asking if she wanted more.

“More.”

“Do you
want him to touch you?”

“No. No.”
The right thing to say; the wrong thing to feel. “Yes.”

Reid
gave the instructions. Ancel stood behind Zarley. His hand went to her
shoulder, trailing down her arm, then brushing hair from her face, cradling her
skull. He wasn’t to kiss her. But he could smooth his hand down her dress over
her right breast, while Reid did the same to her left. He could circle a finger
around her nipple and when she pressed into his hand, he could squeeze.

“You
with me, Flygirl?”

“Ye-es.”

They
played a mirror reverse game of follow the leader on her body. Where Reid
touched her on one side from in front, Ancel’s hand would follow on the other
from behind. Reid watched her face and had her mouth, but his words were for Ancel.

“Easy.”
Oh, easy was standing on the edge of a great chasm.

“Slower.”
Slower was destruction.

“Harder.”
The pleasure was frighteningly intense. It made her senses rattle.

“Put
your hand under the dress, play with her nipple.”

Ancel’s
hand, hot and smaller than Reid’s, slipped over her breast. Reid pulled the
other side of the dress down till her nipple was bare and tongued it. Her bones
turned to mush. Her head dropped back against Ancel’s stomach. He touched her
cheek gently, “
Magnifique
,” then his hair brushed her face as he leaned
over her and took her nipple in his mouth.

She
felt rippling heat everywhere, and nervous, tripping energy roaring though her
muscles. The souls of her feet tingled, she could feel her hair growing. Nonsense
sounds poured from her mouth, it was too much, too much. She pulled on Reid’s neck
and he took her mouth, arms closing around her, locking Ancel out as wave after
wave of ecstatic vibrations wracked through her body.

Ancel
did kiss her. Lightly on the shoulder. “
Merci
,” he said, and was gone.

Reid
held her till she stopped shaking, then put her back together, because she was
fumble-fingered and so tired she could hardly hold her head up.

When
she could focus again she realized he was tense and watchful. “I didn’t know if
it was right to let that happen.” He dropped his forehead to hers.

“That
was incredible.” She stroked his face. “Thank you. I didn’t know I wanted it.”

“But
now you know.”

And
that made him unhappy. Still on his lap she hugged him close, wanting to
comfort but not knowing how. He’d gotten off too. She hadn’t guessed he didn’t
enjoy it like she had, but then she’d been the focus of attention.

“Would
you like it if there was another woman touching you?”

Jabbing
him with a flaming spike would’ve been less painful. He flinched. “I didn’t
want Marja. I don’t want another woman.”

She had
to shake this out of him to understand. “Not even like we just did, with you in
the center.”

He
lifted her from his lap to the seat. “No.”

“Reid,
I would deal with it.” The idea gave her brain freeze but if he wanted it . . .
oh God, could she do it? She’d nearly imploded when she’d seen that bitch kiss
him, could she watch it happen and not feel the same gut-wrenching dread?

He
stood, shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t want you to deal with it. I’m
having trouble dealing with this. I did that for you. If you want it again,
I’ll be there with you, but I don’t want it for me.”

And if
he’d said he wanted to share her more fully it would’ve cracked the ground
beneath her feet. The window and Ancel had been unlooked for opportunities, but
now she understood how much Reid had given them to her as gifts. Their roles
had reversed. He’d been the one to lead. He’d done these things to give her the
experiences she’d never had. The realization shook her, broke completely any
hold his actions the night at Madame Amour’s had on her.

“It’s
not like you have to make that decision now.”

He went
to his knee, hands either side of her legs on the garden seat. “I made that
decision when I found you at Lucky’s.”

Oh. Toughest
of hides but peel him firmly enough and you got down to a luscious gooey center.
She wove her fingers through his hair. “You’re allowed to change your mind, to
be surprised by life.” Who was she to place limits on him, even when she wanted
most to live within their limit of two?

He put
his forehead to her knee. “If you think I can handle any more surprises after
you, you’ve eaten too much sugar.” He stood and took her hands. “You are enough
unexpected magic to keep me guessing for the rest of my life. Whatever rabbits
you want to pull from your hat, I’ll be there to chase them and stuff them back
inside, but it’s not my stage, I don’t want that spotlight.”

She
stood and wrapped her arms around his back. She had enough spotlights in her
life to need more, and an open mind about what kind of light she shined next,
but she’d never have enough of a man who was content to stand beside her while
she did it.

“Do you
remember I told you what my sexual fantasy was?” It was weeks ago and they’d
been joking around, playing
Dark Souls
. She’d made something up about
having him at her feet while she pole danced, about having him outbid other men
to get her to strip. It’d worked on him that night. She’d danced for him. She
didn’t expect him to remember but if he did it would help. “It was kinky but
not kinky sex.”

He
looked away. “If I was a smarter man I’d take note of the little things. Sarina
is allergic to lilies. You had a fantasy of having me at your feet and paying
for the privilege of you stripping. The point was I had to outbid every other
punter.”

She
nodded. “The point is my fantasy isn’t about multiple partners.”

“Convenient,
because I only want you.”

Every
skill she’d cultivated to defy the laws of gravity, to tumble at rapid speed,
propel her body to great height, turn herself near inside out hadn’t prepared
her to win the competition that was Reid.

She
didn’t need gold medals or cash prizes. She didn’t need other people for sex,
and if she craved that extra kink, she trusted him to hold her on that unexpected
ride.

She
told him what she’d told him before. “If you break my heart I’ll kill you.”

TWENTY-NINE

Reid wouldn’t like to admit it, but over the next few days, every
male member of the human race Zarley looked at made him bristle. The man behind
the counter in the cheese shop, the cab driver, the guy on the metro platform
whose dropped book she picked up. He watched her expecting to see, well, what? Was
she supposed to look like she wanted to jump them? Was she supposed to show him
any less attention because they’d had a kinky sex experience on a park bench? Because
if anything he felt her love come at him harder than ever.

Add to
that, he’d never been so happy. With Zarley, the world was brighter colors,
louder noises, more infectious laughter and a deep comfort within himself that
was foreign.
Better to-fucking-gether
. What did he need to prove to the
world if he had Zarley in it?

Mom
heard it in his voice when he called and was convinced he’d found an idea for a
new business. He’d barely thought about work, and not about Plus at all since
they arrived in Paris.

“It’s
not work. It’s Zarley,” he’d said. Zarley who was inside a shop picking out new
t-shirts for him.

Anyone
else’s mom would caution him to be careful. First serious girlfriend, and only
a student, a dancer; by which they hoped for Broadway, but envisaged stripper,
and called it gold digger. Dev’s mom would’ve outright called him a sucker. Reid’s
mom, who’d known very little love in her life, cried.

So he
gave up worrying about it. It was a buzz kill. And when Zarley shared a laugh
with the t-shirt seller, he let his heart swell around the sound and sight of
her, content that everything she was made his life greater.

That’s
how they spent the next week. Walkers, pastry eaters, museum and gallery
patrons, bistro attendees, occasional shoppers, and lovers who wore each other
out at night, and woke each other ready to start it all over again the next
day.

Everyone’s
mother would’ve told him it was too good to last.

Sarina’s
message brought the real world crashing back in on them. Kuch and Owen both
hospitalized after an accident. Both injured badly. Owen with broken back.

They
flew home that day. Zarley could’ve stayed on, but it gladdened Reid she chose
not to. His heart had to be the size of a giraffe’s now from all the love he
felt from her.

It only
made the flight home worse. That new two-foot long, twenty-five pound heart sat
in his throat for ten hours. Kuch was in intensive care with serious internal
injuries. He hadn’t woken. Owen was conscious, had spinal shock and was heavily
sedated. They didn’t yet know if he had spinal cord complications. No one said
it, but what Reid heard was the question of whether Owen would walk again.

He
didn’t sleep. Couldn’t focus to read. The movies on offer were too formulaic to
capture his attention. The pilot told lame jokes. And they had freaking
turbulence that made him sick. Zarley didn’t try to tease him out of his
misery. She got him to eat when he didn’t want to and that fixed his nausea. She
held his hand. She told him how Cara broke her back and the spinal cord damage
she’d suffered that left her with an occasional limp. Owen cycled. He went
hiking and climbing. What if he couldn’t do those things again? Zarley gave him
hope for Owen’s injury to be something he’d recover from.

But in
the time it took them to get home, Kuch could be dead.

He
wanted to fly the plane, be the surgeons, stand in the ER and make sure his
people were cared for the best way possible. Instead he was annoyed, twitchy,
restless and giving himself a headache. It wasn’t much better when they landed,
or when he got to the hospital. Kuch’s wife, and daughter, Owen’s parents, his older
brother, Frank and younger sister, Brooke all looked to Reid for reassurance he
didn’t have to give. Cara met them with an offer to help and Reid let Sarina hug
him for a long time. Dev, who looked gray, simply said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Kuch
had broken ribs, both legs, a punctured lung, and had a range of internal
injuries and severe concussion. He was conscious, but too heavily sedated to
visit.

Owen
was immobilized and scheduled for urgent surgery. He’d broken his lumbar spine
and had disc and suspected nerve damage, which could lead to loss of function,
difficulty walking or outright paralysis.

First
thing Owen said to Reid when he walked into Owen’s room with a subdued Zarley
and an anxious Cara was, “My horse’s tail is shot.”

The
drugs had to be good.

Cara,
hovered behind Zarley, said, “
Cauda equina
, oh goodness,” under her
breath and Reid raised his brow at her.

“There’s
a bundle of nerves at the base of your spine, they fan out like a horse’s tail,
down the back of each leg.”

“Giddy up,”
said Owen. “And who is this starburst who knows her Latin?”

“Owen,
this is Cara. Zarley asked her to come see you.” He could’ve said more about
Cara being his roommate and a Plus employee, but Owen didn’t appear to
recognize her from Plus, and this wasn’t a social call.

“Cruel
and unusual punishment, Reid, bringing a starburst to visit when I can’t shake
her hand.”

“Drugs
are good, right.”

“Awesome.”

“Cara
broke her back too. Thought you might like to talk.”

“Where?”
Owen said sharply, no trace of fuzzy in his voice now.

“L4
like you,” Cara answered. She moved further into the room, coming to stand
closer to Owen so he could see her.

“And
you’re okay?” Owen had to be terrified under the chemical-inspired easy. Reid
was cultivating organ rupture on his behalf. The guy cycled, hiked, climbed.
That’s when he did his best thinking. The earth was his treadmill and solid
rock his weight bench, outdoors was his soul and he needed it to deal with what
he wanted to do indoors.

Cara’s
eyes shot to Reid’s. “I have some nerve damage.” She frowned, hesitated, locked
down whatever she was about to say, about how she limped, how she carried pain,
refocused on Owen and went with, “But I recovered.” She stepped right up to his
bedside. “You will too. You have the best of care. This is an amazing hospital.
I looked your surgeon up. She’s a superstar. You’re going to be fine, okay.”

Owen’s
eyes were all over Cara, assessing. “Stars on your face,” he said, making Cara
touch her cheek. “You had surgery?”

“Yes,
to repair a herniated disk.”

Owen
smiled. “Got one of them too.” He said it as though they were discussing
possessions, things they collected, anything else but the threat of paralysis.

Cara
smiled back, her hand twitching as though she wanted to touch Owen. “If they
can save it, they will, and if they can’t, you might be able to have treatment
that wasn’t available to me.”

“You
came to tell me this.” Zarley had called Cara as soon as they landed, grasping
at a way to support Owen. Cara nodded. “A shooting star,” said Owen. “How long
ago for you?”

“Nearly
ten years.”

Owen
closed his eyes as if that time span had an actual weight in it. Eye contact
pinged around the room like a pinball. Cara to Zarley. Zarley to Reid. He
looked at Cara but she’d dropped her head forward, hair swinging across her
face, shielding her expression. She stepped away from the bed, rejoining Zarley
who said, “We’ll be outside,” as they backed out of the room.

Reid
waited. Owen’s jaw was tight, he wasn’t sleeping, but he might’ve had enough of
the grim tiptoe parade visitors. And Reid had nothing but chalk made from
mushed up empty pep talk phrases in his mouth. Looking at Owen, lying so
artificially still was hard to take so his own eyes were down when Owen spoke.

“Ziggy’s
in trouble.”

“Jesus,
you don’t need to think about Ziggy or Plus. Lay there and think about what
Cara said, focus your superpowers on having a fully functional spine.”

Owen
waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “Giddy up.”

“Drugs
are good, huh.”

“A
galaxy on her skin.”

Freckles,
he meant, Cara’s freckles. Reid snorted, couldn’t help himself and then recovered,
saying, “What can I do for you?”

“Keep
my parents from trying to sue anyone who looks at me unprofessionally, do that
and I’ll forgive you every inconsiderate thing you’ve ever done.”

The
truck driver was fair game. Drunk, ran a light, ploughed head-on into Kuch’s
Tesla Model S when they were on their way to an investor presentation. “Do what
I can.”

“There’s
more. Go back to work.”

Reid
nodded. “I will. Soon as I work out what that is.”

“At
Plus.”

“Don’t
think about work, Owen. Dev and Sarina have,” he almost said, your back, and
finished with, “it under control.” He had no idea if they did.

“You
asked. I want you in the office.”

“You’re
not going to be out that long.” He didn’t know about that either.

“Too
long, Reid. And Ziggy’s fucked like me.”

Reid
scrubbed his face. He knew he needed sleep. It was nothing compared with what
Owen needed. “What happened?”

“You
were right. It was a big project and we screwed it up.”

“I want
to help. You, I’ll do anything for you, but I’m out. We agreed that was the
right thing.”

“Now
I’m saying we need you in. Don’t know how long I’m going to be down for.”

“You’re
fit. You’ll get through this.” Owen’s chest hitched on a hard in-breath. Reid
should just tell him what he needed to hear. “Sarina.”

“She
wants you.” So they’d already talked about this, when Owen’s life was upended
he was still thinking about Plus.

Reid walked
to the window of the private suite. They knew enough about Owen’s injury to understand
his recovery would be complicated, painful and slow. Kuch had a long road to
travel before he was back in business too, but he was out of danger, and a
temporary chairman was less of an issue than a missing CEO.

“There
are others you could approach.” Pay them enough, they could have any of their
tech alumni in the Plus hot seat.

“You’re
not saying we.”

Reid
moved into Owen’s sight again. “It’s not we. It’s you, Dev and Sarina. You’ll
work this out.”

“Are
you seriously telling me you won’t come back?”

He
scrubbed his face again. What kind of a bastard was he, he couldn’t tell Owen
what he needed to hear? The kind that knew Owen wouldn’t want lies, least of
all now. “Plus is better off without me. I had my first holiday that wasn’t a
couple of days tacked on the back of a business trip or spent roofing or
bricklaying. I liked it. I’ve got Zarley in my life and I don’t want to do
anything to screw with that.”

“Reid
McGrath is going to laze around swimming pools and be available for his woman. Churches
all over the city must be falling down.”

“Think
your dose is too high.”

“Not
high enough.”

Reid
watched the slow drip of whatever it was they were pumping into Owen. Plus’
emergency wasn’t his, but he wished he felt some relief at that realization.

“I’m
sorry, Owen. I’m not the right person for this. I’d make things worse.”

“Do you
think he’s speaking French?”

He
turned to find Sarina in the doorway.

“I
didn’t understand anything he said,” Owen replied.

“You
guys, you can’t be mad with me about this.” He moved aside for Sarina and leaned
against a wall, folding his arms defensively, because this was making him
uncomfortable and he didn’t deserve to feel anything for himself in this. It
should all be about Owen.

“I
can’t see why not?” Sarina came into the room and took the chair beside Owen’s
bed after putting her palm against his cheek.

“Hah,
how about for all the reasons you shoved me out. It’s not like I’ve changed.”

“Looks
different to me,” said Owen, “but then, you know, drugs.”

Sarina
said. “I’m stone-cold straight and he looks almost human to me.”

Reid
sighed nosily. “Yuck it up, you two. I’m not the answer to your problems. I was
your problem. You got rid of me. We had this discussion, somewhat publicly if I
remember. And Dev is still not cool with me.”

“He’ll
come around,” Sarina said softly.

The two
of them looked at him as if he had the answer. His giraffe heart was thumping
along at a cracking pace.

“I
can’t help you.”

“Can’t
or won’t?” said Owen.

It was
love and hate all over again. “Can’t. Won’t, what’s the difference? I’m trying
to do the right thing here.”

“There’s
a difference,” said Sarina.

Of
course there freaking was. Zarley would know exactly. But he couldn’t land on
it. If his giraffe heart stroked out, would they know how to treat him here or
need to call in a goddam vet?