Slow Ride (Fast Track #5)(31)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Tuesday wanted to laugh at the look of fear on Diesel’s face. This was the first time she’d ever seen him look at all nervous. It was kind of fun, a refreshing change of pace. She didn’t really give a shit what he thought of her eating habits. So she wanted fried rice, what of it? Thanks to her parents, she’d been blessed with a very high metabolism. Between that and working out five days a week, weight wasn’t an issue for her. So if post-sex she wanted deep-fried crap, she was going to eat it. But seeing him trying to retreat out of his faux pas was really damn amusing.

“I opened the door completely hungover because I wanted the coffee you had for me. My stomach always takes precedence over vanity.” Rolling off of him, sighing a little when their bodies separated, she added, “Besides, a lack of confidence is not my issue.”

“What is your issue?”

Like she’d tell him. If she knew what it was, that is. She really wasn’t sure what was wrong, aside from the obvious—she was grieving desperately for the loss of her father. It wasn’t anything more than that. She didn’t think.

She wasn’t even sure why her head was going in that direction at all. Maybe it was just that being with Diesel was different. It was intense. It loosened the reins of her control, and that had her spinning out in directions she didn’t necessarily want to go. Which wasn’t acceptable.

“My issue is that I’m not going to be able to sleep until I’ve had at least another orgasm.” Keep it light. Sexual. Not on real stuff. Because she really was having a hell of a good time and she didn’t want that to change.

He studied her for a second, but he went along with her. He said, “That’s easy enough. Chinese food. Orgasm. In that order?”

“Yes, in that order. I’m sure you can handle it.” Tuesday gave him a lingering kiss with plenty of tongue, before peeling herself off the bed. “Is this the bathroom?” she asked, heading toward the door that looked like the most likely candidate.

“Yep. Are you taking a shower? There are towels under the sink.”

“I’m just going to pee.”

Diesel laughed.

“What?” she asked, padding carefully across the carpet. With just the one lamp on by the bed, it was a little dark in there and she didn’t want to stub her toe. Diesel was incredibly neat though, and there was nothing on the floor that would trip her up. “Real women pee and eat pizza, though not usually at the same time. I hate to break this to you, but it’s true—women are human.” She opened her mouth in mock horror, even though he probably couldn’t see her particularly well. “We even burp!”

He didn’t look shocked. “I know. You’ve already burped in front of me.”

“Oh. Right.” Tuesday refused to feel embarrassed. “Well, good. You clearly need the reality check.”

“And you’re clearly here to give it to me.” Diesel lolled on his bed, very naked, very relaxed. He opened his mouth and let out a gigantic burp.

Really? Tuesday went into the bathroom before she laughed. What a moron. A very cute, very sexy, very incredible moron.

His bathroom was clean. He either had a maid or he was good with a sponge. Impressive. After using the toilet Tuesday checked herself out in the mirror while she washed her hands. Yep. She was looking like she had been in bed for the last two hours. It was about time. Her hair was a disaster and her skin was flushed and dewy. Or sweaty, however you wanted to look at it.

It was definitely satisfying to see the visual of how she felt.

When she walked back into the bedroom, Diesel was sitting up scrolling through his phone. “I found a place that will deliver at this insane hour.”

“Awesome.”

He patted a pile of clothes on the bed next to him. “And I got you a T-shirt and a pair of shorts to wear. I figured you won’t want to lounge around in riding boots.”

It was such a small thing. A normal, thoughtful gesture. But for some reason, Tuesday felt the sudden urge to cry. What the hell was the matter with her? She knew she could be too demanding sometimes. Producing Chinese food in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly easy and she had kind of obligated him to at least try. So she didn’t really expect that he would be inclined to be additionally thoughtful, yet he was. Stupid that she would react at all, but she couldn’t help it. She was.

She hadn’t been lying to him when she had told him that she wasn’t used to men being anything short of selfish. The one man who had consistently treated her well had been her father and now he was gone.

Ducking her head so he wouldn’t see her expression, Tuesday flopped onto the bed next to him. “Thanks. And I’ll take orange chicken, please.”

“Okey doke.”

“Okey doke?” Tuesday shook out the neatly folded T-shirt on the bed. It had a beer logo printed on it. Of course. “Are you going old man on me?”

“Maybe. You’ve probably aged me ten years in a week.”

Tuesday rolled her eyes. “Doing what?” She pulled the shirt on over her head.

Diesel rubbed her thigh as she stretched her legs out to pull on the shorts. “You’re a lot of work.”

Even though he was teasing her, Tuesday couldn’t help but bristle just a smidge. “Screw you.”

He just laughed, leaning over to give her a loud, smacking kiss. In the position she was in, she half fell on her side as his weight threw her off balance. Her hands wound up tangled in the nylon shorts under her thighs and her hair was poking her in the eyes. But she was pleased instead of annoyed. Being with Diesel was natural and comfortable. She felt totally at ease, saying whatever she was thinking, not worried about his reaction.

“Let’s go outside,” she told him. “It’s kind of cold in here from the a/c and I bet it’s beautiful out now.”

“Sure.” He dialed a number on his phone. “You’re dying to nose around my house, aren’t you?”

Duh. “Of course. I’m trying to figure out why one heterosexual man has so many throw pillows.”

“The decorator bought all of those. She was a Christmas present from my aunt when I got this house.” Then he held up his finger as someone obviously answered the phone.

As he ordered their food, Tuesday played with the waistband of her borrowed basketball shorts. Why was it so damn sexy to wear a man’s clothes? But she wanted to wrap her arms around herself and just grin. All those lovely orgasms and now she was wearing his oversized gym clothes. It was a good night.