Offensive Behavior

“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.

“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.”