Slow Ride (Fast Track #5)(45)
Author: Erin McCarthy

He felt so right inside her, just the perfect fit. Tuesday started moving her hips, loving the way he looked right at her, eyes locked with hers, his hands on her waist, gripping hard. Putting her hands in her hair to get it back off her face, she closed her eyes briefly just to concentrate on that amazing connection, that slide of her over him, his erection stretching her deliciously. She was definitely going to come.

Most men she’d known would have taken over control by this point, forcing the rhythm themselves, but Diesel moved with her, let her set the pace, let her be the one driving down onto him. Ironic that the most alpha male in bed was enjoying letting her ride him like a cowgirl. But maybe he knew that ultimately he was still in control because she was so aroused, she wouldn’t argue with anything he wanted to do.

Her movements were getting frantic, her moans louder, and she felt the orgasm rush over her in an explosive wave, a hot, desperate all consuming pleasure. Not changing her pace at all, she drew it out, refusing to close her eyes. Instead she watched Diesel, loving the way his moans had joined hers, the way he was clearly as hot for her as she was for him. She knew the moment he was going to have his own orgasm. She could feel it inside her body, the tensing of his cock, could see it in his expression, hear it in his voice, as everything paused just for a split second before he exploded inside her.

Damn, there was nothing better than being on top and knowing she had made her man come. Her. She had done that, to both of them.

When the last shudders subsided, Diesel relaxed back onto the pillow. “Damn, sweetheart. Just damn.”

Tuesday gave a little laugh and leaned down and gave him a smacking kiss, their bodies still pleasantly and warmly joined.

CHAPTER TEN

TUESDAY collapsed next to Diesel, sighing. “That’s the best cure for a hangover I’ve ever tried.”

Diesel hadn’t had a drop to drink the night before and he was feeling pretty damn cured himself. “I’m glad it worked for you.”

He had to admit, he’d spent a lot of the night tossing and turning, wondering what exactly his feelings for Tuesday were. Wondering if he should be concerned about her drinking. Wondering how willing he was to put himself out there. He’d spent the last two years basically alone because he didn’t want anyone’s pity. It was difficult to be known as the face of tragedy instead of just a man.

But lying on her bed, the sun warming the room up already, Tuesday’s cheeks pink from the exertion of riding him, his body spent and satisfied, he didn’t care. None of it mattered. He wanted to see where this was going. If it crashed and burned, then so be it.

Hell, it probably would. Didn’t everything eventually?

In the meantime, though, he could enjoy it. He was going to enjoy the hell out of it, if the last twenty minutes had been any indication.

She grinned at him, her leg still sprawled over his, looking completely relaxed. “Oh, I think it worked for you, too.”

“I never said it didn’t.”

“Hold back on the enthusiasm there, buddy.”

The good thing was, she didn’t look annoyed. Diesel knew he was too emotionally reserved for some women—hell, most women—but Tuesday was confident enough that it never seemed to raise insecurities in her the way it did other women. He didn’t mean to be remote, it just didn’t feel natural to him to gush about his feelings. It made him feel stupid and vulnerable. He said things in his own way, on his own terms, and he stood by the concept of actions speaking louder than words.

“I think I showed you just how enthusiastic I can be.”

She sighed, a satisfied smile on her face. “Indeed.”

He loved her smile, that smirk that frequently crossed her lips. It stunned him a little to look at her and realize just how beautiful he thought she was . . . when she had been moving over him, her head thrown back, he had been in awe of how stunning she had looked.

It was starting to occur to him that he was really falling for her. The question was, how did she really feel about him?

He guessed there was only one way to figure it out. “So do you have plans for today?”

She yawned. “I should work a little but other than that, no.”

“You want to do something?”

There was no hesitation. “Sure. Like what?”

That was a good question. “I should go home and get Wilma and let her out. Do you want to go to the dog park? Or we could take her down the trails by the lake.”

“I vote dog park. I’m feeling okay, but I’m not sure I’m up for tromping around the woods today. Let’s save that for a day when I haven’t consumed my weight in wine the night before.”

Good point. He didn’t want to put her through the paces when he knew how lousy the day after drinking could be. “No problem.”

“Do you want to shower at your place so we don’t have poor Wilma crossing her legs any longer than she has to?”

There it was again, that tug on his heart. Damn, she killed him when she showed care for his dog. “That would be great.” Diesel sat up and stretched. “The mutt will appreciate it.”

Having pulled her panties into some semblance of order, Tuesday came around his side of the bed and started rooting around in her dresser. He was momentarily distracted from his purpose of pulling his jeans back on. Her butt was perilously close to his face and he wanted to suck the spot where her waist dipped in.

“I need to give you your clothes back that I borrowed.”

“Huh?” Diesel had a hard time focusing on her words, mesmerized by the lengthy expanse of ivory skin on her back, her shoulder blades moving gracefully as she dug through a drawer. He felt an erection stirring to life.

“Are you even listening to me?” Tuesday turned around. Her exasperation disappeared when she saw his dick, sail fully raised. “Oh, my.” Tuesday licked her lips, her mouth sliding open.

For a split second he thought she was going to lean over and take him into her mouth. The thought made him throb. But she backed up against her dresser, like she needed distance from temptation.

“No, we need to let Wilma out.”

He knew she was right, but he was tempted to risk a puddle on the floor for five more minutes. Not that he would actually let her suck him. Why waste time on that when he could be deep inside her? Just thinking about the way it felt to have her hot, moist body snug around him had him reaching for her.

But then the mood was ruined when she put a hand to her chest and said, “Look at your knee, oh, my God.”