Offensive Behavior

“Spoken like a man who’s never truly looked failure in the eye.”

He shook his head. That made no sense. That’s what he’d been talking about, hadn’t she listened to anything he’d said?

“You didn’t fail, Reid. You had a setback.”

“A setback.” His hands went to the top of his head, elbows flaring. “My career got shredded. I lost my company.” Maybe he’d lost every friend he’d had.

“You lost your job.” She took another step away, but she didn’t pull her punches. “Every pundit out there predicts you’ll come back stronger. I lost my calling, the whole basis for my talent and training, and whatever chance there was of continuing to work in the field. You have an income from investments, money in the bank. Your home town is still proud of you.” She closed her eyes. “Mine thinks I’m a stupid, selfish slut and they don’t know I’m virtually a stripper.”

If he opened his mouth it would be to shout. Not because she’d nailed him to the flag post of his own self-importance, but because she’d trash-talked her own life. He wrapped his hands around the bottom of the stool and gripped. She was right, this was a setback. She’d experienced the dead end of all of her hopes and dreams. He’d fix his mess, but Zarley couldn’t be allowed to denigrate herself like she’d done.

She fiddled with her laptop. He breathed through his anger and when he could finally trust himself to talk without raising his voice, he said her name.

She cut him a look. “I’m not the kind of friend you were thinking about having. Maybe we should stick to fucking.”

“I want that.”

She said, “Huh.” As if everything was clear now.

“I want the fucking but I want the friendship too. Exactly as you gave it to me, right between the eyes, so there’s a chance I can get it in my head. I’m too used to being alone. He tapped his chest. “Sometimes alone is shit. But there’s something we have to get straight.”

She gave him an oh yeah look, turned fully to face him with a hand jammed on her hip.

“You don’t put yourself down in front of me. Ever. You don’t think of yourself as a slut or as selfish or as stupid. You are none of those things. Never were. Never will be.”

She blinked and then laughed. “You’re supposed to be annoyed with me for calling you on your bullshit entitled asshole attitude.”

He was, but under the uncomfortable itch of the burn it’d generated, he’d loved it. “I don’t usually do what I’m supposed to do.”

“I noticed.” She smiled and

it took his anxiety down about thirty thousand feet.

“Are we done poking at each other’s sore spots for the day?”

“I think we’ve only just started. I haven’t said anything about you being a bully, about you being moody and grumpy and socially awkward.”

He gave her the oh yeah look back and kinked a finger at her.

“I don’t do assholes.”

“I get that, loud and clear. Bring it.”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “And render you incapable of what I really want.”

“What do you really want?”

“It’s time to test the new furniture out. Are you a man of your word? I seem to remember a promise to do dirty things to me over your new dining table.”

Where was the line between anger and affection, hard words and lust, and they just scrubbed it out. “I seem to remember there’s a full-frontal pic of you I need to see.”

She reefed her t-shirt over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Jesus Christ, he wanted her so badly he might not have the strength to make it last longer than getting her naked.

“I’m not sure you get this sex thing yet.” She started on her jeans, popping the stud, rolling the zipper down. “Actual flesh and bone beats image every time.”

She wriggled, shoved the jeans down her legs and stepped out of them. Her panties were blue. The color of the blood that pumped three times as fast as it should through him was blue too, so hot it was the heat center of a flame.

He still craved a drink, but it was the liquid sweet of her skin he wanted on his tongue, her pleasure moans he wanted in his throat. “You’re so damn beautiful.”