Offensive Behavior

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.”