“You’re not now.”
She almost said, you’re not the boss of me, but he was, in this moment, disheveled, intense and possessive, he owned her, body, mind and soul.
“Take me somewhere.”
“Unless you change, we’re going home.”
It was a five-minute trip to his garage door. He’d risk that. “Take me somewhere we can fuck on your bike.” He groaned. She felt it between her legs. She swung a tote bag, borrowed from Kathryn, nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t dying to climb on behind him and have her arms and legs around him while the classic old Harley vibrated under her. “Either that or I’m walking.”
He snatched her off the pavement and deposited her on the seat, thrusting a helmet at her while he grabbed for his own, and still he protested. “It’s not safe.”
What she planned wasn’t. They could get arrested for what she planned. She ignored him standing there and tucked her skirt under her thighs. “You don’t want inside me while we’re outside,” she stroked a hand over the seat where he’d be sitting if he had any sense, “with this beast as our bed?”
“You’re dangerous.”
“I’m also skipping a class and I have to work tonight. Get your ass on this bike now.”
He shoved her forward and got on behind her, caging her with his arms and legs, putting the heat of his chest at her back. She showed a lot of leg as they nipped through the city. He headed for the green expanse of Niles. They’d scare the dog walkers. She laughed inside her helmet, running her hands over his knees and shins.
At the park they ditched the bike. Where they could park was too public. They took a walking trail. Zarley skipping out front, Reid following, a look of pure terror on his face. She picked a spot. A huge tree, a broad trunk to hide behind, a stand of other trees behind it making a corridor. On the weekend there’d be hundreds of people picnicking in the clearing on the other side of that tree, throwing Frisbees, drinking beer and chasing toddlers. They had it to themselves. But now she had him here, what did she want from him? He’d go to his knees if she asked. He’d let her take him that way if she wanted it.
He walked into view and she knew she wanted it all with him, rough and smooth, lazy and dangerous.
“You’re reckless, Flygirl.” He stopped in front of her and her tree. “We can’t do it here.”
“Scared, Back Booth?”
He pushed both hands through his hair. “Fuck yeah. Imagine the headlines if we got caught. My image has taken a bashing, getting nabbed for indecent exposure might make it hard to convince Plus backers to stand with me.”
“Oh Reid.” She walked into his arms. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.” And getting caught with her, hell—it was one slightly exaggerated claim away from him doing a hooker. The thought almost cooled her ardor. “I get carried away.”
She titled her chin up and he bent to kiss her. It wasn’t an I’m worried about public decency kiss, because his hand went under her dress to cup her ass and drag her closer and his tongue was wicked. He didn’t have an I’m worried about indecent exposure bulge behind his zipper either. Nor was he especially worried about it when backing her into the tree and feeling her up. Her dress was strappy and didn’t need a bra and he made quick work shoving the shoulder strap down her arm and getting his mouth to her nipple.
“You make me crazy,” he said, spinning her so she was face to the tree, hands planted on its rough trunk, standing higher than he was in the grassy mound that covered tree roots. Her mind crash-landed into that scene they’d had on the dining table. He’d been behind her then. He’d been all over her body and deep inside her head. And afterward, he’d taken her to bed and kissed her to sleep and she’d lost a little more of her casual resistance to him. All he was doing now was bracing her, one hand at her hip, strumming his thumb over her nipple but she couldn’t stop shaking or the moan that was so loud it frightened a bird from the branches above them, startling them both.
“It’s your fault I’m like this.” No struggle left. She was in this complication of him all the way.
He pinched, while his lips went to her neck, his teeth in play. “Can’t be my fault. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m someone else with you.”
She pushed her ass back into his lap, loving her height advantage. He could be Donald Trump right now and she’d want him to take her. And he did know what he was doing. He was writing over her vow to stay detached and recoding her will to court heartbreak with him.
Hand under her dress he pulled her panties down her hip, smoothing his hand over newly bared flesh. “All these firsts with you.” He swapped sides and yanked and she heard fabric tear, but the elastic held and her panties caught on her spread thighs.
“Oh!” Her skirt fluttered over her butt and the wall of Reid receded. She twisted her head to watch him unzip, head bowed, his hair dry now and fluffed as though she’d had her fingers in it. “Reid.”
He looked up, eyes wide, blown out like spotlights. “I’m going to die if I don’t have you.”
“Yours. I’m yours. Do it now.”
He put a hand alongside hers on the tree and she pressed back as he guided himself inside her. They both stilled when he was fully seated. He spoke into her ear, “Is it always this madness?” his voice was hushed and cracked.
She was too full, too open, too everything at once to know how to answer him. She rocked back and he jerked forward. Tension swirled in her gut, heat made her legs shake, nonsense sounds poured out of her mouth. Reid’s hand went to her hip, then dipped under her dress where his fingers sought and found the madness in her.
She shook so hard she might push the tree over. She felt so deeply she might break its roots with her toes. The whole park couldn’t contain the pleasure she felt. The ponds would flood, the grass shoot, the seasons cycle from fertile to fallow and back again, all within the time it took for orgasm to rip though her body, for Reid’s to chase it, catch it midair and ground her with his mouth to her throat.
Out of breath they held each other up. Reid curled protectively around her, his chest heaving, his head tucked in the nook of her shoulder. She put her hand to his hair, threaded her fingers though his overlong locks. This thing between them kept getting better, more intense. But it had to be the game she was making of it, his willingness to go all in and play to win.
“You okay, Flygirl.”
“Still flying.”
“Me too.”
And then a dog barked.
No two semi-undressed people put themselves together quicker, both of them laughing.
“I ripped your—”
She wiggled into her underwear. “Not completely.” But enough they weren’t fit to be worn again. The bike ride back would be a little more breezy.
“Sorry,” he frowned, contrite, looking down at his hands.
“I loved it.”
He stared at her, disbelieving. “I was too rough. I get, I lose—”
She used her height advantage and brought their faces close, a hand to the back of his head to hold him there. “I loved it.” She brushed gentle kisses across his cheek.
“Don’t skip study for me. Don’t. It’s important.”
She pulled back to look at him. The laughter gone, a shadow over his eyes. “Okay.” She couldn’t not give him that and he was right. To rebuild her life, study came first, but it was hard to prioritize in the light of the joy she got from being with Reid. It was like tumbling on a sprung floor, spinning on a pole, without fear of the score or the ramifications of making a mistake.
Don’t let this be a mistake.
He dropped her back to Kathryn’s in time to get ready for work. They wouldn’t see each other until Saturday and there were simply too many hours, too much class, work, air-mattress sleeping to be done before then.
He kissed her with a lazy lushness that made her knees go soft. She stood on the pavement, he sat astride the Harley and neither of them wanted to say goodbye.
He groaned. “Why didn’t I do
women before?”
She didn’t mean to hold her breath but it felt like a threat. Why wouldn’t he regret the time spent without sex and close companionship? “You have time to catch up.” And it’s not like she’d promised anything more than what they had now.
The arm behind her back tightened and her hip banged against the bike’s tank, all that hot metal suddenly too close to her thighs and shins.
He let go as quickly as he’d grabbed. “Go. I’ll see you, Saturday. We get two nights together unless you want to give me more. My offer to move in till you and Cara find a place stands for both of you.”
She took a step back. “Two nights.” That’s what this thing was because Reid had catching up to do and she had to stay focused. “I’m not moving in.”
He put his helmet on and turned the bike over. She watched him pull out and now the distance between hump day and Saturday night felt like a forced march through rough terrain. The only peace would be getting out the other side.
But Saturday did come and it brought on the primping. Cara and Kathryn were old friends by now and Lizabeth dropped over to see the dress. She had a good camera and offered to shoot images that Cara could use to promote her dressmaking.
Skin scraped, buffed, polished and made-up, hair shining, curled and piled on her head in an elegant twist, Zarley stood in Kathryn’s living room in a thong arguing with Cara.
“No underwear,” Cara said.
The dress was a sheath, fitted like a second skin, a nude-colored silk with a net overlay, embroidered with red petals, green leaves and crystals, held up by magic and angel hair thin straps. It was forest nymph meets sex goddess. Reid’s eyes were going to bug out of his head when he saw her.
“It’s tiny, it’ll be fine.” She clipped a crystal earring borrowed from Kathryn’s gran onto her ear and shook her head.
“Off.” Cara said. She had two pins in her mouth. Not because she needed to adjust anything, because she was almost sick with nerves.
“Off.” Kathryn echoed.
Lizabeth looked up from fiddling with her camera and made a throat cutting movement.
“Shouldn’t you both be at work,” Zarley shot back. They were making her nervous. She put the second earring on and shook her head, letting the crystal drops bounce against her neck.
“As soon as you get your naked ass in that dress, we’re out,” Kathryn said.
She went back to the bedroom and ditched the thong. Slipped the dress carefully over her head, making sure it didn’t catch on hairpins, the earrings, or brush against her makeup. It swished down her body, molding to her absolutely everywhere. Yes, you would’ve seen the outline of the thong. Next came shoes. The only real expense she’d had. The same nude color, a classic slim high heel with a pointed toe, gleefully bought on sale.
“Hurry up,” Kathryn called.
But she needed a minute. This was a big night for Reid, all his old colleagues, stockholders and bigwigs in his industry. He’d be networking. She had to pull off professional date. Not something she’d ever attempted before. It had a difficulty of ten. She was feeling about eight point five.
She took a breath and walked into the other room.
“Wow. You look. Wow. That is going to glue Back Booth’s tongue to his teeth,” said Kathryn. She flung her arms around Cara. “You’re a genius.”
Cara suffered the hug. “It’s the fabric.”
“It’s the body.” Lizabeth took a shot. “Hot, hot, hot, but trés chic as well, babe.”
Yes, there was nothing trashy about this dress. Nothing with the stink of failed gymnast or slutty pole dancer about it. Her hands went to her thighs. “Oh my God. I’m so nervous.”
The three other women gawped at her while she stood where Lizabeth pointed.
Cara took the pins from her mouth and stabbed them into a pincushion she wore on her wrist. “You nervous?”
“You never get stage fright,” said Kathryn.
“But this.” Lizabeth stalked around her, camera to her face. “This is a big deal.”
“And I’m just an ornament.”
Lizabeth waved a hand, and Zarley struck a pose for a shot. “What do you mean, hon?”
“My only function is to look good and not embarrass Reid by picking my nose at the table or falling over drunk. That’s simply weird.”
“You sure look good. Say cheese.” Lizabeth clicked and kept clicking.
“But I’m set dressing. I’m usually the main event.” It wasn’t a boast and no one took it that way, it was her reality. She was used to eyes on her, but not for simply looking good, for having talent. Even the drunks at the bar who lusted after her body got hung up on what it could do.
“You’re the main event for Reid,” said Cara.
“Turn side on,” said Lizabeth.
Zarley followed Lizabeth’s stage directions. Cara hadn’t warmed to Reid. His manner made her anxious and she responded by being prickly. Part of her resented the ease with which he could afford the kind of fabrics she coveted to work with. And since the fire, her limp had been worse. Sleeping on a rollout bed wasn’t good for her.
“This dress is a miracle. I’m not even sure how it stays up. I feel beautiful.” That was true, even if beautiful came with a side of redundant. She was going into a ballroom full of people she didn’t know and would never meet again, with no purpose other than to reflect well on Reid by looking pretty and not saying anything dumb. It rankled, and that was a buzz kill. “Thank you, Car.”
“We have to scoot,” Kathryn said, picking up her bag and Lizabeth’s. “This dress is a fantastic calling card,” she said to Cara.
“I’ll email you what I got,” said Lizabeth and they were gone.
Cara burst into tears.
“Oh, God, what’s wrong?”
She held Zarley off with her arms out in front. “Don’t touch me, you’ll get mussed. I’m fine,” she sniffed, rubbing her face. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever made and you look stunning.”
“I knew you could do it.”
“Well, I didn’t. That new machine is different to my old one. The fabric was so delicate, the whole way it’s supposed to fit and hang, I didn’t know if I was good enough.”
Zarley sighed. This was worse than the buzz kill of her own anxiety. This was all of Cara’s insecurities tripped by the loss of her job and their apartment, brought back to life on a night she should be celebrating.
“But you did do it. You made a miracle dress.”
“It really is the body it’s on, Zar.”
“And when you sell it, it’ll get more attention and—”
“I can’t sell it.”
“That was the plan.”
“It’s tailored for you. It’s not going to fit just anyone.”
She should’ve realized that. It was the same with her stage costumes. No one could borrow them because they were an exact fit for Zarley.
“It’s going to be all right. We’ll find a new place to live. You’ll get a job. You’ll get new dressmaking commissions.”
Cara nodded, but she wouldn’t meet Zarley’s eyes. “He’ll be here in any minute.”
“How much pain are you in?”
Cara’s bottom wobbled. “It’s the bed. It’s too soft, but I’m back on anti-inflammatories, it’ll be better in a day or two.”
Oh not good, there had to be a better solution than Cara in more than usual pain. But Kathryn’s doorbell rang and Cara hit the door release to let Reid into the building. They heard him on the stairs and then he was at the door.
“I’ll get it.” Cara’s eyes and face were red, but both of them knew Reid wouldn’t be focused on her. She went down Kathryn’s narrow hall and Zarley heard her open the door and greet Reid.
He came into the room and her performance anxiety, her worry over Cara turned to vapor from the scorching look he gave her.
“Hot damn.” He plucked at his lip, eyes roaming over her body. “You can’t be real. Cara, did you paint that on her?”
“Zarley, you’re going to blow the room up.”
“I hope not, messy,” she said. “You don’t look too rough yourself.” He looked very fine. He was a jeans and shirt man. She’d seen him in sweats and briefs and nothing, but never in a suit, the full force of Reid in black tie was impressive.
“That’s a tailor-made suit?” Cara said, impressed. She had her phone in one hand, Zarley’s in the other. She made them pose together, standing close, Zarley’s arm looped over Reid’s. They kept sneaking looks at each other. Zarley hoped at least one of Cara’s photos came out okay. She broke from him and reached for her cell. Snapped a shot of Reid and Cara and then they both watched Cara limp to Kathryn’s sofa and sit.
“Why do you limp?” Reid asked. He’d asked about Cara’s limp, the night of the fire. He’d asked again when they were haggling over whether he’d buy her a new sewing machine. Both times she fobbed him off. And when he’d asked Zarley, she’d told him it was Cara’s story to tell. He didn’t look like he was going to be fobbed off now.
“Why do you need to know?” Cara fired back at him.
“It’s worse than it was before.”
“Good days and bad days. You’d better be going.” She was staying on Kathryn’s airbed tonight. Would that be worse than Gavin’s trundle?
“And today is a bad day?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Nothing.” Reid looked at Zarley, his expression a mixture of fondness and meet me at the dining room table, be naked. “But it’s something to Zarley and she’s something to me, so why do you limp and what can you do about it?”
Something to him. Hopefully more than a pretty bauble, a sexual spirit guide, a fellow traveler on his lonely road.
Cara glared at Zarley. “You two should go.”
Zarley took the hint and slipped her hand into Reid’s. He grasped it and squeezed but didn’t take his eyes off Cara.
“Why is it such a secret?”
“It’s not a secret. It’s none of your business.”
Offensive Behavior (Sidelined #1) Page 18