Slow Ride (Fast Track #5)(34)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Diesel tweaked her nipple, then pushed her back down onto all fours. The hat slipped on her head and fell onto her forehead, but she didn’t bother to fix it. “Boots?” she asked breathlessly, suddenly completely into the idea of wearing nothing but the riding accessories. And what man didn’t want to bang a woman wearing boots?

“Roll over and pull them on.”

He sounded so urgent that Tuesday was already moving onto her back before his sentence was over. He was stripping his jeans off and she got a nice view of his jutting erection. Grabbing a boot, Tuesday yanked it on, her leg up in front of his chest.

Diesel paused in removing his pants and tilted his head. She knew exactly where he was looking. Right between her thighs.

“Now that is a million-dollar view,” he told her.

She bet it was. Switching legs and drawing on the other boot, Tuesday licked her lips. “Why, thank you.”

Once the boots were on, Diesel hooked his hands under her knees and hauled them up. He ran the crop over her sex, the tip swirling around her clitoris. Tuesday’s mouth went hot with saliva and anticipation. For a second, as he trailed it down lower, she thought he was going to push the end into her, and she tensed, both intrigued and a little nervous at the thought.

But he didn’t. He tossed it to the side. “You’re being so good, I don’t think I need this.”

She didn’t have time to respond before he was inside her. Tuesday closed her eyes on a moan, the sensation delightful as he filled her. She could get used to this.

“I can’t believe how sexy you are,” he told her.

She couldn’t believe how hot he was. As he moved over her, his biceps taut, hair falling in his eyes, tattoo marching up his side, she came so quickly it took her completely by surprise. She barely had time to grab his arm for support before her back was lifting off the bed as she exploded.

The intensity of his gaze only added to her pleasure and she stared up at him, amazed that she could be so open, so willing with a man. But it felt sensual, natural with Diesel, and when he lifted her ankles in those riding boots onto his shoulders, she refused to close her eyes, no matter how amazing it felt.

She wanted to watch him as he came.

And he did, just a few strokes later, his jaw clenched, fingers digging into her waist, eyes dark with desire, her black boots bouncing on either side of his face.

Yeah, she could definitely get used to this.

IT had been a very long time since Diesel had woken up with a woman in his bed, and he had to admit, he liked it. It was Sunday morning, the sun was streaming in his bedroom window, Wilma was softly snoring at his feet, and Tuesday was snuggled up against his chest.

He certainly didn’t mind being alone, but there was something to be said for having the right to touch another person. Just running his fingers along her back felt good. Tuesday woke up the same way she did everything—with lots of words. She was saying something about the hair on his legs and he was only half listening. Normally he did find her interesting and entertaining but it was too early, so he just nodded occasionally and let her do her thing.

“I’m hungry.”

Of course she was. “Why does that not surprise me? I think you have a tapeworm. It’s the only explanation for how you can eat so much and be so damn skinny.”

“That’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tuesday yawned and sat up. “But unfortunately I need to go. I have to watch the race. Sundays are not my day off.”

Diesel remembered that all too well. “Sucks to be you. I can stay in bed all day long if I want to.” Not that doing so by himself sounded all that appealing. Not after having Tuesday draped across him. Tuesday under him. He felt an erection stirring to life.

She was well aware of it, too, because she dropped her hand down onto him and squeezed. “Ooh, don’t tempt me. I really do have to go.”

“Then quit touching it.” Or he was going to make her late. He leaned over to kiss her, wondering if he could talk her into a quickie.

But she squawked and rolled away from him. “No, I’m resisting you and your penis.” She stood up and stretched.

Diesel let her go without a fight, not wanting to be responsible for interfering with her work. But she came out of the bathroom, her clothes bundled in her arms, back in his T-shirt and shorts, but now clearly with a bra on, he was tempted to tumble her back onto the bed with him. “Shit. I just realized I have to drive you home.”

“Being a gentleman is a pain in the ass, isn’t it?” she told him, smirking. “I told you I should have met you at the church last night.”

Giving a mighty yawn, he forced himself out of bed. “No.”

“No, what?”

“Just no.”

He pulled jeans and a T-shirt on and he was ready. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Can I wear your clothes home?”

“Of course. Though I’d kind of like to see you wear the riding boots with my basketball shorts.”

“No, thanks.” She headed down the hall. “Can Wilma go with us?”

“Sure. But she’ll want to sit on your lap.”

“That’s fine.”

Most women didn’t like his dog. Wilma was big and slobbery and on the jealous side. Yet she and Tuesday seemed to really dig each other.

They went through a drive-thru for his coffee and for a breakfast sandwich for Tuesday. He did like that she had an appetite. He wouldn’t have to feel guilty if he ever wanted ice cream. Assuming they saw each other again. Which he definitely wanted to happen.

“So you busy next weekend?” he asked her as he pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building.

“No.”

“Want to do something?” He wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

She smiled, then leaned around Wilma and gave him a kiss. “I’d like that, Daniel. Give me a call.”

Then she was out of the car and he was left sitting there with his dog, wanting an aspirin for his knee and for her to be back in his passenger seat.

“Wilma, I may be in trouble here.”

His dog licked his face before giving a bark.

“Tell me about it.”

Tuesday reached the door to her apartment and turned back. She waved to him with her crop, a grin on her face.

Oh, yeah. He was in trouble.

TUESDAY stared at the three manila folders in front of her, a thumb drive resting on the stack, and tried to force herself to open one of them. Inside was the last article her father had been working on before he’d gotten too sick to use his computer. The sports editor had asked her to finish it as an homage to her father.