Offensive Behavior (Sidelined #1) (14 page)

When
she got smashed by a dragon’s tail, she snatched the controller from his hand
and straddled his lap. “Name your fantasy.”

Her
cheeks were pinked, an eyebrow quirked. She knew he’d set her up. She knelt
across his outstretched legs with her hands on her hips. She wasn’t wearing a
bra under that white t-shirt. Jesus, his fantasy was having her here, glaring
at him like he’d disappoint her if he didn’t demand a naked lap dance.

“You,
just you, doing whatever you want to do with me.”

She
made a tsk sound. “Did you pickle all your ambition at Lucky’s?”

“You
doing whatever you want to do with me has worked out pretty goddamn well so far,
I don’t see any reason to change a good thing.”

She
stood. “Next time we play I will take you down.”

Next
time. Sweet, sweet words. But yeah, she’d never beat him at
Dark Souls
.

She fiddled
about on his TV until she got streaming music, then searched for something she
liked. Female singer, soft piano.

She
pointed to a spot on the floor facing the empty dining room. “Sit there and
don’t move.” She looked at the ceiling.

He went
to the spot and sat cross-legged. “What—?”

“And
don’t talk unless I speak to you.”

And
she’d called him bossy.

She
stood in front of him and stretched her arms over her head, then went palms
flat to the floor with her legs straight, forehead tucked into her knees. She stood
and bent one knee and took her foot by the hand and stretched that leg straight
up near her ear. He’d seen her do this on the pole, under lights in her
costumes. But here, in the space that should house a dining table she did it
without anything to hold on to. She did the same thing with the other leg and
when she released her foot and returned it to the floor she bounced up and
down, hopping from leg to leg, shaking herself all over, easing her neck side
to side. This wasn’t a dance, it was just the warm-up, and she wasn’t smiling, but
he was already tense.

Then
she pulled her t-shirt off.

His
breath caught. He’d seen her naked more times than not today and still the
sight of her bare breasts got him worked up. They were a gentle swell, round
and plump under his hands, but firm like another muscle on her body and tipped
with bubblegum-colored nipples. When the pants went the way of the t-shirt and
she stood before him in candy pink panties, his throat dried and he coughed. There
wasn’t much material in those panties. Whatever she was planning to do to him was
about to get real.

He
caught a line in the song about never wanting anything so much.

She
turned a cartwheel and he laughed it was such a mood change. She did it again
but without putting her hands down and again in the other direction, so fast
and sure he didn’t have time to wonder if she might brain herself on his stone
floor until she was standing on her hands, her body a perfectly straight, sure
form.

And the
singer sang about falling into gravity.

Zarley arched
her back, her head lifting, one leg reaching forward, the other back, that knee
bent so her pointed toe tipped the messy bun on her head. She held that
position steady, like a snapped photograph.

“You’re
incredible.”

For
that he got a flicker of a smile, before she rotated her hips and split her
legs at either side, her back arched, her eyes on him. Every movement violently
slow, and God, he wanted to stand in front of her and run his hands along her
legs to the bunched muscle of her ass and feel the power of her infinite
control. She held that position longer than he thought possible in such a rock
solid way, he knew he’d underestimated how strong she was. Then she bent both
knees so her feet touched her shoulders before going to the floor in a complete
back bend and straightening up to stand.

“If
your ceiling was higher, I could do more.”

“If my
ceiling was higher, you doing more would undo me.”

She
smiled. That was clearly her point, then she forgot he existed and performed
for herself, bending and twisting, turning and reaching, slowly, with exactness
and deliberate, sustained suspension, every filament of her body in perfect
tune with her will.

What he
saw was the genetics that gave her compact stature and form, the talent that
resided in her body, but what he craved, what made him feel almost sick with
desire was the iron discipline, the determination and single-mindedness that
lead her to master these skills.

She
stood on her hands again and he realized he was on his knees, ready to crawl to
her. Zarley was showing off her body, but she was letting him inside her brain
and his need to touch her made his gut ache and his chest burn.

She
caught sight of him and brought her feet to the ground and stood. “Do you like
what you see?”

“I like
everything I see and everything I can’t know about what you had to do to have
this ability.”

She
grinned, hands to her hips. “Good answer.”

“I want
to touch you.”

“I know
you do.”

“Can I
touch you?”

“Not
yet.”

“You
want me to burn up.”

“I
won’t let you turn to ash.”

She was
the one exerting herself, but his hands trembled.

“Listen.
Watch.”

He
became aware of the music again, a new voice, but a heavier beat, a song about having
a road and walking it alone. She pointed at him, touched her chest
acknowledging his Rumi tatt, and from no preparation at all turned a somersault,
making him gasp. The song had lyrics about being incomplete, still working on a
masterpiece, but Zarley was perfect.

She danced,
but not like a striptease, she was a ballerina, a wisp of wind, a leaf falling
from a tree. She was the tide and the fall of night and loneliness of a kid
whose unshakeable obsessions: dinosaurs, mechanics, star systems, explosions,
made him the odd one out, made him turn inward and hide the parts of him others
thought were weird.

Zarley
could make emotions with her body that were bigger than the place in his heart
reserved for feelings. She stretched that creaky hollow until the back of his
eyes stung. She filled him up with longing and with fear. Now he knew she
existed, he didn’t want to be without her and he had nothing she needed because
the only win she valued was one she designed and achieved for herself.

She
told him to watch but she didn’t dance for him so much as for herself, testing
her body, loving what she could make it do. And what astonished him most was
that she gave this so freely to him.

When
the song ended she stood in front of him, her skin shone with perspiration. He
crawled forward and knelt at her feet. It wasn’t quite her fantasy but it
shared the same theme. He adored her and he wanted her to know it. He passed
his hand from her ankle to the back of her knee and up her thigh. He rested his
forehead on her hip.

She pushed
her fingers through his hair. “Don’t ever try to fake me out again.”

He
kissed her stomach. “Never.” He pressed his lips to the triangle of pink cotton
covering her and she laughed softly. Bringing his other hand to the back of her
knee he folded her to his lap and pushed his face into her neck. Her skin was
hot and his head swirled with so much feeling, he didn’t know what to do with
it; shout, rage, break something. Cry.

She
found his lips. She held his face and took the ache away with her kisses, with
her hands under his shirt and her legs wrapped around his waist. The music was
still in her limbs and it spilled out all over him, firing nerve endings,
sharpening his senses. Each kiss was deeper, more full and hungry than the
next. Each time she rolled her hips against his he lost his breath, until he
was panting with the need of her.

“Do
what you want to me, baby? I’m all yours.”

He got
them off the floor in one move. She stayed wrapped around him like a bear cub
and he took her to bed, to explore her, to worship her, to be inside her, to be
outside himself.

Afterward
he slept badly, waking often in the dark to check Zarley was still beside him,
dreaming she’d brought him on stage at Lucky’s and laughed at him. In the dream
he’d gotten sick again and she’d left him in the alley in disgust. That woke
him and it was light enough to see she was gone, but the place she’d lain in was
still warm and he could hear her voice. He pulled sweats on and went in search,
finding her in the far corner of the empty dining room.

She
leaned against the wall, watching the bay. She wore those pink panties under
her untied black robe. She stood with one leg bent resting on the ball of her
foot and the robe framed her body, showing him the plump curve of both breasts
and her flat belly.

“I have
to go,” she said into her cell when she saw him. It was a message for whoever she
was talking to. And for him.

He
stood where he was, in the other room. He had nothing to do today and nowhere
to be and she had a life to go back to that didn’t include him. He had to try
not to be irrationally furious about that.

“That
was Cara.” Her voice was a husky melt of morning and their late night twisting
up the sheets, making each other call out.

“You
don’t have to tell me your business.”

That
came out brutally hard, with all the anxiety he felt about letting her go, and
she pulled her robe around her body and looked away. “Don’t do that, Reid. We
had an amazing time.”

“And
now it’s over.”

She
turned her head back and snapped her eyes to his. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then
what?”

“I have
stuff to do. I have classes today, and a paper I didn’t finish, and I have to
work tonight. I don’t have a lot of spare time and you have all the time in the
world.”

That
couldn’t be how this ended. One day, one night. It wasn’t enough and yet it was
everything. He approached her wanting to take the defensiveness from her
posture, wanting her loose and lithe and in his arms again.

He
stood in front of her, braced his hand on the wall, caging her between his body
and the window. “So we’ve blown through this thing.”

She
folded her arms over her chest and studied him. He wanted to kiss her, carry
her back to the bedroom and keep her there. “This is how you want to play it?”
he said.

“I
asked you a question.”

She
laughed. “Yeah, we’ve blown through it.”

He dropped
his arm and stepped back.
Jesus
, what was he doing? “I’m sorry, I didn’t
mean to—”

“Come
off all evil lord of darkness. Yeah, well, you did.” She unfolded her arms. “Look
Reid, I’ve loved every minute of what we did. I have no regrets, but I don’t
have time for games.”

“This
is not a game to me.”

“Then
you should’ve asked if I wanted to see you again.”

“I
don’t want this thing to be over.”

“So you
thought you’d communicate that by coming into the room like a storm front and
trying to intimidate me.”

“I can’t
intimidate you.” And that meant he had no idea how to get what he wanted from
her if she wanted something different.

“No you
can’t, but you tried all the same. I want no part of a thing where I’m made to feel
like the enemy.”

He couldn’t
look at her. All of this was on him, and unlike other people he’d turned rancid
on she could walk away and never look back. She’d carve a ragged hole in him
doing it.

“Be
cool. I didn’t say I was finished with us. All I did was get out of bed to make
a call. All I’m doing is going on with my life.”

“While
I’m making an ass of myself.”

“Yeah,
kinda.” She curled a finger at him, calling him to her side. “Tell me what’s
going on with you.”

He
stepped in front of her but kept distance between them and his voice low. “I’ve
never felt the things you make me feel.”

“Okay,
that’s reasonable.” She reached for his hand and some of the tension left his
chest.

All he
had to give her was honesty. “It’s not reasonable to come on all, what did you
call me?”

“Evil
lord of darkness.”

“That’s
my default whenever I don’t have control. That’s why I lost my company. Shit.” He
looked for condemnation in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She
squeezed his hand and he stepped a little closer. He shouldn’t have fallen for
her so quickly, it was all out of proportion, but his heart was beating so
rapidly, so loud in his ears and he’d watched her, wanted her from a distance
for so long, to have her this close and know he might lose her made him feel
cornered.

“There’s
definitely a thing going between you and me, but you can’t be sure how much it’s
about the sex or about me.” He went to speak and she stopped him. “Don’t talk,
Reid. Listen. I don’t have the energy to get involved with you and then find it
wasn’t me you were interested in, it was just.” He opened his mouth and she
said, “Don’t,” with her hand held up to stop him. “I want to see you again, but
I think we should leave it a few days, a week. I think you need to sit with
this a little while and see how you feel.”