Offensive Behavior (Sidelined #1) (8 page)

“You
got through college a virgin?” How was that possible? Not if he looked like he
did now. He’d buttoned his shirt, but she’d seen a flash of ink.

“I got
through college never leaving the computer lab. I started my business in
college. I barely even dated. It’s no wonder I’m useless with people, I’m fucking
unnatural.”

Oh,
this man. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to have sex?”

He
turned his head and they locked eyes. “I want it now like I want oxygen to
breathe.”

“With
me?”

“With
you, oh God, yes, please, with you.”

He
opened his arm and she tucked her face into his chest. “So . . .?”

He
wrapped her closer. “No. I should’ve sorted this years ago. I need to hire a
professional and work all the clumsy out and maybe then you might want me.”

How it
had to sting for him to tell her that, and how awful he thought it was the kind
of chore he could handle by putting it on his to-do list and paying someone to
take care of it.

“I want
you.”

He
brought her chin up so he could see her eyes. “You can’t possibly. I could hurt
you, and it won’t be any fun for you.”

“You
won’t hurt me.”

He
brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “You’re tiny and I’m not in control.”

“I’m
strong and flexible and you know it. I understand what you’re saying and I want
to be with you. I want to be your first.”

“I’m
going to explode the minute you touch me.”

“I’d
like to see that.”

He
shook his head. He was miserable with shame and indecision.

“And
then when we do it a second time, you won’t come so quick and by the third time
you’ll—”

He
stopped her mouth with a too-hard kiss that pinched her lip and made her cling
to him.

And now
she trembled too.

NINE

Reid wasn’t fit to drive. Not with Zarley sitting in the seat beside
him. Not with the way she watched him. It’d been a while since he’d driven a
car, and rarely one this nice. They’d be a road statistic if they were on his
bike, and her body pressed into his back, her arms around him, her thighs—

“Red.”

He stomped
on the brake and the car jerked to a stop at the red light of an empty
intersection. “Shit, sorry.”

“I’m
not going anywhere. We have all day, and nothing bad is going to happen.”

He
wasn’t five, but that’s the way she was speaking to him and okay, that made it
better, because why didn’t she take the various chances he kept handing her to
embarrass him, and why was she still here?

“Talk
to me. Tell me why you never,” she hesitated and then said, “took care of this.
Not that it’s a problem, it’s not a problem. Everyone has a first time, and
it’s totally fine that you never got around to it, it’s just that you’re not
the kind of man I expected—”

“To be
so hard up.”

“That’s
a compliment.”

He
grunted. “I don’t have a deep-seated dislike of women.” The light went green
and he drove through. “I’m not a closet homosexual. I didn’t have a traumatic
first encounter where I failed to get it up or anything. It’s hard to explain.”

“Then
you don’t have to. It’s enough that you want me now.”

He
risked a look at her. “No, no, no. You cannot be that cool.”

“Having
sex before I was ready for the consequences screwed up my life.”

“You’re
not talking about a broken heart, are you?” There’d been a tone in her voice
that wasn’t storytelling, it was regret.

“No,
the whole catastrophe.”

“You
don’t have to tell me.”

“I
know. And it’s not sexy.”

“Any
more sexy than me here with you, on the way to have actual sex in my actual bed
and I might drive into the bay.”

“Who
said anything about your bed?”

He
gripped the wheel. “Jesus, do you want me to rear-end something?”

“I want
you to relax.”

“Like
that’s happening any time soon.” It was a good thing the traffic was light. He
really needed to be out of this car or focus on something other than the fact
she was just there, across the console, watching him. “I had my heart broken at
sixteen. I thought Dana Masters was the stars in the sky. I thought we’d grow
up and build a life together. I had no idea I was her practice warm-up for Iggy
Nelson.”

“Iggy
was your best friend.”

“Since
day care.”

“She
wouldn’t sleep with you, but she went with Iggy.”

“Rode
him like a bit-torrent stream. Strung me out like a line of broken code.” He
hadn’t thought about Dana and Iggy for a long time. Long enough for it to be
fine print in his life. Too long ago to still sting. But it did. He’d never
failed at anything he’d worked for, set his heart on, except Dana Masters.

Until
now.

“So
what, you didn’t bounce back, knock Iggy out and prowl around campus with a neon
sign over your head saying, I can keep it up all night, do me?”

“Not
helping.” He whacked the blinker on with more force than was necessary. “I did
knock Iggy out and then l swore off wasting my time on manipulative chicks and
locked myself in the computer lab.”

“For
years?”

“It’s
not like I was the only one. It’s the jocks that get all the radical action,
not the computer geeks. Hey, I was full of ambition and power lifting and angry
young man and that keeps you warm at night.”

“Okay,
but after college, there was no one who tempted you?”

“You
know this conversation, which is a hideous personal embarrassment, has done
nothing to deflate my erection. That’s a compliment.”

“You
know if you don’t stop driving like we’re in a funeral procession, I will jump
you before we get to your apartment.”

“And
you wanted me to relax.”

She
laughed. “Yeah, I do, because there’s no hurry.”

“For
you.” Was it possible for your zipper to do you harm? Cut off vital blood flow.
It felt like it was possible. “I’m years behind the action.”

“And
why is that again?”

He
pushed a breath out. Facing nervous stockholders had been easier. “Because I
was busy. I didn’t meet anyone I didn’t work with, which made them off limits, and
I was building a business that was all guts and glory, and it took every minute
of every day not to lose it. When I got finance, I had a lot of people watching
me, waiting for me to screw up and I couldn’t afford the distraction. There was
precious little leisure time where I didn’t want to sleep.” He’d had a textbook
all work and no play life, and in the leftover space, there was a hollowness
that was best not contemplated.

“And
did I mention I’m socially awkward and since sex is the most intimate of acts,
it simply hasn’t been my go-to.”

“Was it
worth it?”

He
couldn’t answer that easily, the loss of Plus was too raw and the realization
of a life he liked without it, too uncertain. What he’d given up for it loomed
large. “Some days I wonder.”

“I
understand that.”

“You
do?” The apartment building was up ahead. Thirty seconds to safety. So why did
his left leg have the shakes?

“I was
a competition gymnast. I lived and breathed gymnastics. I just started being
busier than a twenty-four hour day younger than you did.”

“How
old?”

“Thirteen.
I left home, billeted near my coach. I finished school by correspondence.”

“What’s
the lifespan of a professional gymnast?”

“Eighteen,
absolute tops. That’s when I retired.”

So
young. And fuck, how old was she now? Eighteen, still. Nineteen, a decade
between them. Holy shit, this couldn’t happen.

The
scanner wouldn’t recognize the plate of the hire car, which is why they were
stopped in the drive. He had to remember the override code to get the shutter
up and all he could think about was Zarley being too young.

“You
were retired before I started college.”

“Pretty
much.”

He
tried typing the code on the pedestal keypad and plugged it in wrongly. “How
old are you now?”

“Chill,
I’m old enough to be here with you.”

He
punched in the number again and the shutter went up. “How old?” He couldn’t
drive in if she was too young.

“I’m
twenty-three.”

Green
light. Five years between them. She wasn’t a kid. He drove forward and headed
for his space. “What happened?”

“You
should be asking what’s going to happen.”

“W-w-what
is going to happen?” Apart from Zarley climbing over the console and into his
lap.

“You’re
going to stop worrying you’re too virgin for me, too old for me, and turn the
ignition off. Then you’re going to take my hand, get out of the car, kiss me in
the elevator, feel me up outside your door, and then—”

He put
his hand over her mouth, then replaced it with his lips. The taste of her, the
feel of her in his arms, the idea that she was going to let him fuck her, it
stopped all rational thought. This is why he’d stayed away from women, they were
bad for business, they could short-circuit your brain.

He had
to re-park the car so it was in the space properly, then he got the ignition
off, the door open, Zarley’s hand in his. He kissed her while they waited for
the elevator and when they got inside she climbed his body like he was her
pole, wrapped her legs around his hips and they kissed through his head spins, forgetting
to press his floor number, and the twelve-story ride to the end of his self-imposed
abstinence.

This
is really happening.

The
need of it sat in his chest like lung disease, rippled through his body like a
power overload. His awareness had narrowed to the flickering tease of her hands
and bright sharp sounds she made as they kissed. The end of days was on her
tongue and salvation was between her legs and he didn’t know if he was worthy.

He got
them out of the elevator and into the apartment without stopping to put her
down. She didn’t need him to hold her in any case, his gymnast, his dancer, the
girl who could fly and was teaching him to soar with every sucking kiss and flex
of her pelvis.

Yanking
on his hair slowed him up. “Take a breath, Back Booth, you’re going to blow a fuse.”

“Ow. What?”
No way. No stopping. No more waiting. She laughed and put her feet down,
lowering her big canvas bag off her shoulder. They were in his living room. There
wasn’t enough air in here.

She
stepped away, made gentling motions with her hands. “You don’t want it to be
this quick.”

“Fuck,
yeah I do.” He’d left the front door open. Maybe he was freaking her out. “Sorry.”

“Nothing
to be sorry about. But I was going home from work. I didn’t take a shower. I
want to.”

He
stalked across the room and closed the door. “Ah, okay. It’s, um, through, er.”

She
held her hand out. “I know where your bathroom is. I didn’t say I wanted to
shower alone.”

“Jesus
Christ. That’s some kind of advanced ninja sex. Couldn’t you ease me into
this?”

She
laughed. “You’re doing fine.” She took his hand. “If you hadn’t told me I
wouldn’t have known.”

That
couldn’t possibly be true. No one did anything useful the first time around. “I
know how it’s all supposed to work. Porn channel. But the real thing, you, it’s
nothing like I expected.”

“What
did you expect?”

“To
have some fucking control for a start. I can’t, not, it’s. God, what you’re doing
to me.”

“So if
I did—” She smacked her lips together, rolled them.

“Then
I’m going to come in my underwear.”

“You’re
going to come in the shower in my hand or my mouth and then it’s going to be
easier to slow down.”

He was
only capable of grunting and letting her lead him to the bedroom, sit him on
the bed. His brain was a mere receptacle echoing the torturous pains in his
body.

“I want
five minutes in the shower to myself and then you come join me, okay? Do you
want to undress me?”

He took
a breath and held it. Why was she asking him these difficult questions? Couldn’t
she see he was riding a roller coaster and scared of the rattles, trying not to
piss himself.

She
nudged his knee and stepped between his legs, her hand spearing though his hair
shoving his head back. “Don’t look so worried.”

“There’s
more than a decade of heaving male sexual frustration sitting here. I want this
so badly I feel like I’m going to choke on it.”

She
gave his head a shake. “You won’t.”

He was
five kinds of too hot, ten kinds of nervous. He didn’t know what to do with his
hands, or how to stop looking at her like she was every lonely night
extinguished forever. Part of him wanted to throw her on the bed, rip her
clothes off and fuck them both screaming into the next century. That part of
him was made from three thousand, six hundred and fifty days’ worth of denial,
substitution and regret, and it frightened him how those feelings roared inside
him.

“I’ve
got you.”

Someone
needed to. He gripped the end of the bed. “I think I love you, Flygirl.” He
closed his eyes, so dumb. “But then I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” He waited
for her hand to move, the sound of her shoes leaving the room. What could she
possibly want with him? He should end this before it got more embarrassing.

He got
her lips instead. A kiss to start a global meltdown in his chest, and then the
sound of her shoes dropping to the floor detonated in his stomach, bringing
swirling discomfort.

He
opened his eyes to see her shrug out of her hoodie and pull her tank over her
head. She unbuttoned her jeans, sliding the zip down, then bending to take her
socks off, giving a cute little hop when one stuck, before easing her jeans
down and stepping out of them. It wasn’t a striptease. It wasn’t done to please
him. She was just a woman getting undressed to have a shower.

He lost
the power to swallow. She stood there, close enough to grab, in mismatched
underwear, her hair a nest of tangles from his hands, her face and chest
flushed, and just like this, she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

She put
her hands behind her back and unclipped her bra, let it fall down her arms and
drop to the floor. “Keep breathing, Back Booth. In, out, in, out.”

He knew
things about her body even before he saw it bared like this. She was compact, with
well-defined long muscles. Her feet turned out like a ballerina’s, her calves
were prominent, her thighs strong. She had narrow hips and a flat abdomen, but
obvious obliques and abs. Now he saw they led up to firm, round breasts with
bubblegum pink nipples that made his palms itch. He wanted to run his nose over
the muscle delta in her arm and press his face into her prominent collarbone.