Offensive Behavior (Sidelined #1) by Ainslie Paton Page B

hurry.”
    “For
you.” Was it possible for your zipper to do you harm? Cut off vital blood flow.
It felt like it was possible. “I’m years behind the action.”
    “And
why is that again?”
    He
pushed a breath out. Facing nervous stockholders had been easier. “Because I
was busy. I didn’t meet anyone I didn’t work with, which made them off limits, and
I was building a business that was all guts and glory, and it took every minute
of every day not to lose it. When I got finance, I had a lot of people watching
me, waiting for me to screw up and I couldn’t afford the distraction. There was
precious little leisure time where I didn’t want to sleep.” He’d had a textbook
all work and no play life, and in the leftover space, there was a hollowness
that was best not contemplated.
    “And
did I mention I’m socially awkward and since sex is the most intimate of acts,
it simply hasn’t been my go-to.”
    “Was it
worth it?”
    He
couldn’t answer that easily, the loss of Plus was too raw and the realization
of a life he liked without it, too uncertain. What he’d given up for it loomed
large. “Some days I wonder.”
    “I
understand that.”
    “You
do?” The apartment building was up ahead. Thirty seconds to safety. So why did
his left leg have the shakes?
    “I was
a competition gymnast. I lived and breathed gymnastics. I just started being
busier than a twenty-four hour day younger than you did.”
    “How
old?”
    “Thirteen.
I left home, billeted near my coach. I finished school by correspondence.”
    “What’s
the lifespan of a professional gymnast?”
    “Eighteen,
absolute tops. That’s when I retired.”
    So
young. And fuck, how old was she now? Eighteen, still. Nineteen, a decade
between them. Holy shit, this couldn’t happen.
    The
scanner wouldn’t recognize the plate of the hire car, which is why they were
stopped in the drive. He had to remember the override code to get the shutter
up and all he could think about was Zarley being too young.
    “You
were retired before I started college.”
    “Pretty
much.”
    He
tried typing the code on the pedestal keypad and plugged it in wrongly. “How
old are you now?”
    “Chill,
I’m old enough to be here with you.”
    He
punched in the number again and the shutter went up. “How old?” He couldn’t
drive in if she was too young.
    “I’m
twenty-three.”
    Green
light. Five years between them. She wasn’t a kid. He drove forward and headed
for his space. “What happened?”
    “You
should be asking what’s going to happen.”
    “W-w-what
is going to happen?” Apart from Zarley climbing over the console and into his
lap.
    “You’re
going to stop worrying you’re too virgin for me, too old for me, and turn the
ignition off. Then you’re going to take my hand, get out of the car, kiss me in
the elevator, feel me up outside your door, and then—”
    He put
his hand over her mouth, then replaced it with his lips. The taste of her, the
feel of her in his arms, the idea that she was going to let him fuck her, it
stopped all rational thought. This is why he’d stayed away from women, they were
bad for business, they could short-circuit your brain.
    He had
to re-park the car so it was in the space properly, then he got the ignition
off, the door open, Zarley’s hand in his. He kissed her while they waited for
the elevator and when they got inside she climbed his body like he was her
pole, wrapped her legs around his hips and they kissed through his head spins, forgetting
to press his floor number, and the twelve-story ride to the end of his self-imposed
abstinence.
    This
is really happening.
    The
need of it sat in his chest like lung disease, rippled through his body like a
power overload. His awareness had narrowed to the flickering tease of her hands
and bright sharp sounds she made as they kissed. The end of days was on her
tongue and salvation was between her legs and he didn’t know if he was worthy.
    He got
them out of the elevator