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“Look at me, Zarley.” The pain in his chest wasn’t vague anymore. He waited till she met his eyes. Hers were wet. “I’m the weird, loner guy. All you’ve seen of me since we met is failure. I was an unemployed drunk, I vomited all over you. I drive a ten-year-old bike and didn’t bother furnishing my place. I dragged you into unfinished business, lost control and acted like an entitled asshole. I thought if I told you I loved you, you’d run so far your dust would be cosmic. All I have to offer you is financial security and you want to go get that for yourself. I fucking love you more for that. But what the hell chance does an asshole like me have with a goddess like you?”
She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I’m so angry with you.” She stood up, her breathing was as unsteady as his.
Were they done, was this it? He closed his eyes, his body was heavy with this next failure. It would end with him on his ass at her mercy, the way it had begun between them.
But she wasn’t done with him. She speared her hand into his hair and jerked his head back. “I don’t do assholes. You were an asshole tonight. But you weren’t one yesterday, or the day before that, and you won’t be one tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
“I need to sleep. I need to see how I feel in the morning.” She took her hand away.
He scrambled upright, one foot turned to cement from pins and needles and pointed at the couch. “I’ll stay here.”
“No, you sleep in the bed with me. Because that’s what people who love each other do when they’ve ripped one another apart.”
“Zarley.” Her name d
rawn from the pain in his body like it was a balm.
“Come to bed, Reid.”
He followed her to the bedroom. The weight of all he’d gotten wrong still making it hard to pick up his feet. He washed up and climbed into the bed opposite her.
“Don’t even think about touching me.” She huddled on her side, facing away from him. It was a warm night but she had the covers up over her shoulders and she wore a t-shirt and panties. It was a warm night and he felt cold.
They’d never gone to bed wearing clothing before.
It took a long time for Zarley’s breathing to slow but for him, the agony of being so close to her and yet so very far was more than he could handle. Though he willed it, sleep didn’t come. When he was sure she was deep under, he took a pillow to the sofa where he could practice being alone again.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Zarley woke with sunlight streaming into the bedroom and for a moment forgot to be angry. That was Paris sunlight heating her face. And last night she’d danced at Madame Amour. That had to be credential enough to get a job in any decent club back home. Even if she didn’t win, she was more confident about finding work and negotiating the fine line between artist and stripper.
No Reid, not exactly a surprise; the place beside her held no warmth. She kicked the covers off and stretched. But she couldn’t shrug off the anger. Of course, in being so hopelessly wrong, Reid was also right. If she discovered him for an asshole through and through, there was no amount of pole wax would make them stick.
He’d ruined what was meant to be an incredible one-time experience with his ridiculous jealousy and that alone was unforgivable. And then there was the nagging worry he would want sex with more than one person. That kind of monogamy was as old-fashioned as cigarettes. Once he’d woken up to what his body could feel he’d become an incredible lover.
Did he kiss Marja because she trapped him? Was he turned on by the woman in the window, had he wanted her? Did he want other things with other people? Did she? Why was this so confusing? Press Reid for his sexual fantasy and he claimed to have found it in her. That had to be a lie because he wasn’t a man with a quiet mind. He was a man with obsessions.
She lay looking up at the net canopy above the bed. She couldn’t hear a sound in the apartment, but the rebound of her own fury sent her in search of Reid. She didn’t have to go far. He was stretched out on the sofa, an arm slung over his eyes. He wore the tee and boxer briefs he’d come to bed in.
And he wasn’t asleep.
He lifted his arm away when she stood over him. Dark smudges under his eyes. Had he slept at all? Why did she care?
“Tell me what to do, Zarley.” He sat and swung his feet to the floor. “Whatever you want from me.”
Like contrite was enough to cut it. Like his husky, hurting tone was supposed to fix things. If he’d understood the game he’d have organized breakfast, flowers, a freaking choir. But this was Reid who didn’t understand the playoffs in a relationship. This was Reid whose reactions were raw and untempered, who didn’t see the point in lying.
She stood in front of him, arms folded, trying not to give a fuck that he looked terrible. “What was with you last night?”
He looked up and locked on. “I lay awake for hours thinking about it. I don’t want to lose you, but I need to get a handle on how I feel about you, it’s not healthy.”
“That’s it then, you want to break up?” Oh, that made her heart pulse in her ears.
Both hands to his hair, already a tousled, spiked up mess. “Oh shit, no. No. I thought you did.”
Hell, no. She wasn’t finished with this man. She’d have been long gone from the apartment if she had.
