Offensive Behavior (Sidelined #1) (7 page)

Reid
shook Therese’s hand, but he waited on Lux’s answer as if his next career move
depended on it.

“No
kidding,” said Vi. “I used to sing, cocktail bars and lounges. I wasn’t Barbra
Streisand or anything, and I got older and jobs dried up. Lou has been good to
me. This job keeps the rent paid, feeds me, my mother and daughter, and gives
me enough left over to buy books. I could do worse.”

Lux
played with the zipper end on her hoodie, her eyes down; she made no move to take
her turn. He needed Sarina on speed dial and a dozen more of her inane but
magic questions if he was going to connect with Lux, if he was going to learn
her real name before they all turned into pumpkins.

Then
she looked up. “You tell me, Reid.”

He
grinned while the others made ooh, ahh sounds. He freaking loved the way his
name sounded coming from her mouth, that was a fantasy fulfilled right there. He’d
like to make her shout it. Jesus Christ, to be close to her, to think he could
make her feel about him like he felt about her.

Someone
said, “That shut him up.”

It was
in every line of her body, every thrilling spin and thrust and stretch, every
impossible position and improbable pose. She loved it. But she’d trapped him
into speaking for her, into acting like his opinion came before hers, into his
usual offensive, he knew best behavior.

Not
this time.

“I don’t
know how you feel about it, but I know how you make me feel.”

More
catcalling and Vi’s elbow in his ribs. The hint of a smile that threatened on
Lux’s lovely face went Defcon. The force of it hit his chest, hitched his
breath and prickled his throat.

She
smiled all the way to her eyes. “How do I make you feel?”

He
leaned forward, because he wanted her to know what she did to him. Made him
want to dive across the table to be close to her. “Like you could teach me to
fly.”

Lux
didn’t break eye contact. Reid hardly dared to breathe.

Lizabeth
said, “You two should so get a room.”

EIGHT

They’d taken everyone else home, now it was the two of them. Zarley
had no excuse to sit snug in the shelter of Reid’s body in the back of the SUV.
She sat on one side, Reid on the other, a huge expanse of leather between them.
It seemed like a tragic misuse of resources.

“We can
drop me off first,” he said.

She
wasn’t worried about him seeing where she lived anymore. He might come off like
a man who held his ground, who you had to skirt around, but she had the
impression that if she hip-checked him he’d fold at her feet.

“I’m
closer, and I am the Black Widow when I’m not a pole dancer so I think it will
be okay for you to know what street I live in.” She scooted over that leather
wasteland to speak to the driver between the seats. Then she simply stayed in
that halfway position, where she could look closer at Reid, where she could
enjoy the way he looked at her.

Like
she was somebody he wanted and was scared to try for.

It made
her feel tense in a good, blood rushing, gut squirming, toe curling way, in a
way she hadn’t felt in a while. It made her feel powerful in a way she only
felt on stage.

Maybe
they should get a room.

She
watched his chest rise and fall, too quickly to peg him as relaxed. He wore a
white business shirt with the cuffs turned back to show his long-boned forearms.
Black jeans didn’t disguise the muscle of his thighs and she’d already had a
preview of how his pants framed his tight ass. He needed a haircut, but the
shaggy look suited him. He wasn’t smiling. He’d had one hand clasped around his
kneecap, but now he flattened it on the seat between them as though he’d
intended to reach for her and thought better of it at the last moment.

She put
her hand on the seat beside his, almost touching. He twitched. She watched his
face, his eyes, going to their hands, then bouncing back to hers. She licked
her lips and he grunted softly. This big, strange, aggressive, opinionated, not
good at taking no for an answer man, was waiting for her to make the first
move.

She really
should thank him for breakfast, remind him of his promise to quit Lucky’s and
get out of the car he’d hired. That was the way to avoid trouble and he’d
already signed on as a complication.

Only a
year ago she’d specialized in complicated, the messier the better. She wasn’t
doing that anymore.

She
turned more fully to face him. “This is a thing.”

He
frowned but turned toward her, putting his back against the door.

“Between
you and me. We’re having a thing.”

“I’m
not following.”

“You
have a thing for me.”

He
grunted. “There’s no disputing that.”

“Why
me?”

“We’d
need all day.”

“Give
me the summary.”

“I’m in
awe of what you can do with your body.”

“Ah-huh.”

“I’m
turned on by the things you say.”

She
made a noise of disbelief. “I mostly argue with you. I yelled at you.”

“You don’t
get rationales in the summary version.”

“So you’re
like most guys, you want to get with an exotic dancer. It’s a sexual conquest
thing.”

“Ah.” Now
he broke eye contact. He turned his head away completely to look out the
window.

“It’s
okay.” She almost laughed, but that would be cruel.
Goddam it
. “I have a
thing for you too.”

He
turned his head around, his expression a little fierce, and hit her with her
own question. “Why?”

“Does
it matter?” He wanted. It’d been a dry spell. She was offering. It could be
good. It was a one-time thing.

His
mouth flattened. Not what he was expecting. “I’m the drunk who ogled you on
stage for a month and never had the guts to step up and tip you, who made you
feel like you’d been attacked twice in that alley, and then let you see him at
his worst physically. I think I barfed on you. That cannot be attractive.” He
stopped her responding with a raised hand. “I’m unemployed. I have an income, but
I don’t have a job and I have no idea when I will have one again. I think it
matters.”

“It was
close, might have splattered my shoes.”

“Shit.”
He palmed his face, his head dropping forward so she saw the curve of his neck
and imagined what it might feel like to grip him there, hold on while she
treated him to a lap dance.

“You
didn’t tip anyone else either, except Vi.”

He
straightened up and hit her with his laser lock eyes. “I am out of my depth
with you.”

“I can
see that and I like it. I like the idea you’re obsessed with me.”

He
groaned. “That cannot be healthy.”

“Probably
not.” She eased closer and his nostrils flared. “But then I’m a pole dancer who
hasn’t committed and you’re a bum without prospects.”

He
laughed and lifted one arm so it draped across the seat back, almost like he
was making a space for her to fit into. “In your experience, what happens when
two people have a thing?”

She
moved into the space and his breath stalled. She ran a finger down the middle
of his chest to his belt, over the crispy cotton of his shirt, but kept her
eyes on his. “They fuck like rabbits.”

Reid
made a choking sound. “I don’t even know your name.”

She
held out her hand like Lizabeth had first done. “I’m Zarley.”

He took
it and didn’t let go. “Hello Zarley, pleased to meet you. I’m your number one
fan.”

“But
you’re going to drop me home and then we’re never going to see each other
again, because you’re a man of your word and all you wanted was a meal with me,
right?”

He
scrunched his eyes closed. “I’m an idiot.” Then he locked on again.

“You
are an idiot. We have a thing. You should’ve at least tried to kiss me.”

“You wouldn’t
let me buy you a meal alone. You might hurt me if I tried to kiss you.”

“You’d
have to take that risk.”

“Why
didn’t you tell them you rescued me?

“There
are a lot of things I don’t tell them.”

He
still had her hand, his thumb rolled across her knuckles. He called, “Park us
somewhere quiet. I’ll take it from here.”

The car
cruised to a stop, so early Sunday morning the city was a ghost town. The
driver got out with a nod to Reid before he walked off.

Zarley
put her hand on Reid’s thigh. “Bold move, Back Booth.”

He
toyed with a strand of her hair. “When I’m not an unemployed bum, I’m known for
my bold moves.”

“I
probably need some convincing of that, since you haven’t made a move on me
yet.”

He
squeezed her hand. “I want to kiss you, but I’m scared if I start I won’t want
to stop.”

“That’s
kinda how it’s supposed to go.”

“Zarley.”
He said it like a warning.

Who was
this man who’d seen her close to naked, had her alone in his car, knew she was
dead keen, and hadn’t tried to jump her? “You can kiss me, Reid.”

He
closed his eyes. “You’re sure?”

His
hesitancy was unbelievably endearing. If it wasn’t lust she saw in his
blue-gray eyes with their flecks of orange, she might’ve hesitated too. She
inched closer, tipped her head up and touched her lips to his.

His
eyes flared wide and his whole body jerked, his arm coming off the back of the
seat and rounding her, but he didn’t press them together and he didn’t take the
kiss and run with it.

So she
did.

She
took a handful of his shirt and brought her body into his, her other hand going
to his face, and she kissed him again, loving the way his breath caught, his
arm closed on her and his muscles locked. This time he kissed back, but closed-mouthed,
tentative as if the action held some primitive requirement for restraint, as if
he wasn’t sure what came next.

And
what came next was glorious.

He
groaned. It sounded like it came from the soles of his boots and surged through
him, blasting past internal organs and external reticence. It was a tortured
sound of longing and it entered her body with the flash of a heat wave. It
changed everything. It made her want him not for the sport of it, but for the
complications of what they might be together.

She
opened her mouth and licked across his lip and he did it again, groaned like he
was in pain. His hand came up to the back of her head, fingers tight on her
scalp as if he needed an anchor while she pressed his mouth and he opened to
her.

They kissed,
with a frantic energy that zinged through her pinpointing all her hot zones,
her throat, her nipples, her thighs, her clit with shocking accuracy, but it
was Reid who trembled.

She
broke the kiss. “Are you okay?” She put her hand to his forehead, his eyes were
wild, the pupils huge. “Do you feel sick again?”

He took
a shuddery breath. “I’m good.” His voice was low and rough and he tipped her to
fasten his lips on her neck. “But you?” He tipped her again into the cradle of
his arm so he could open his mouth on her throat. “This is okay for you? With
me, with tinted windows, getting a room?”

He said
that even as she rearranged him, straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around
his neck. What wasn’t he getting here? “I want this, Reid. Are you sure you’re
feeling all right?”

He
palmed her ass and pulled her closer so she grazed his erection. His head fell
back into the seat. “Oh fuck, if this is sickness, kill me now.”

She had
a second to appreciate the fact she’d wrecked him and they were both fully
dressed and there’d been no tongue. She slipped her hoodie off and tried to
steady her breathing, but he looked at her as if she was the first meal of a
starving man. Like he wanted to make a mess devouring her but knew that might
not be good for him. That was—that was—ahh, like winning an important
competition, like gold.

“The
way I feel, this won’t be pretty, Flygirl.”

Flygirl
. She opened her knees and rolled her hips. “Show me.”

He
bound her, a hand on her ass cheek and one at her neck and he kissed her with
the same stubborn craft he’d used to get her here, a potent mix of fumbling and
confidence, as if he was drunk on her, didn’t know his own strength and had no
concept of where this was going.

There
was nothing careful or charming about it, he was insistent and demanding and it
was so much more than she’d expected. It was making out to the power of ten. Every
single judge giving them that perfect score. She rocked her hips and he thrust
and they stopped kissing to pant, foreheads pressed together, until without
warning he flipped her to her back on the seat and held himself over her.

“You
are gonna kill me.”

She put
her hand to his face, and he turned his head to kiss her palm. “What a way to
go, huh? Take me home to your empty apartment so we can both die with our
clothes off.”

“You
want that?”

“Yeah,
you crazy man.” She started on the buttons of his shirt. She was the crazy one,
desperate to get her hands on his skin.

“But
you need sleep.”

There
was that tight-packed set of abs she’d felt through the cotton. “I’m not
tired.” She pushed his shirt open, and a shiver went through him, but he still
held himself away.

“You’re
married.” Had to be what his hesitancy was about. A wife stashed somewhere.
Crap
.

He
recoiled. “No. Fuck, no.”

“You
have a girlfriend.” That’s why he’d stopped. He shook his head, hair falling in
his eyes. “Then why?”

“I
shouldn’t. You have to . . . It wouldn’t be fair.”

She
scrambled out from under him. “What are you saying?”

“I have
a problem and I need to solve it and that’s not on you. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“You’re
not clean.” She sighed. She’d been too carried away to think about that, and
she knew better.

He did
the unexpected. He gave a bitter laugh. “
I’m a goddamn
virgin.” He sat in the seat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his
hands.

She
said, “Quit fooling around,” even as she knew he wasn’t. He’d kissed her like
Dalton Connors had kissed her in the barn at the orchard when they were
fourteen. Like the world only started when their lips met and might end if they
stopped. And hers had.

“I’m twenty-eight
years old. I’ve been to college and I had my own business and I’ve never been
inside a woman. The last time any of me was inside any part of woman, and I’m talking
my tongue in her mouth, I was a senior in high school.”

She
swung her legs into the foot-well of the car and sat beside him. She wanted to
touch him but she didn’t know if he’d want that.