Slow Ride (11 page)
“Alright, fine, waste your time driving all over town to pick me up. That works for me.”
Instead of getting irritated with her and her petulant tone, he just shook his hair out of his eyes. “I’ll do that. Now if you’re ready, let’s head out so I can waste more time today driving you to your car.”
She was way ahead of him. “Mrs. Holbrook is taking me to my car, so you’re off the hook.” The truth was, she wasn’t sure she could spend any more time with him until she’d gotten about twenty hours of sleep, so she had begged a ride from Kendall’s mother.
“Okay, then. Guess I’ll see you on Saturday. Seven o’clock.” Diesel leaned over and brushed a kiss on her forehead and left the brunch.
Really? He wasn’t even going to argue? He wasn’t going to insist on giving her a ride? Not that she wanted him to. But it seemed like he would have tried a little harder. Which was completely unreasonable of her.
She watched him walk out the door.
Suddenly her head really hurt again.
A ROYAL STOCK CAR WEDDING IN BRIEF BY TUESDAY TALLADEGACup series drivers Evan Monroe and Kendall Holbrook Monroe made their history-making marriage more than official with a reception Tuesday night. Over two hundred guests were in attendance, including all drivers currently in contention for the championship, and former fan favorites such as retired driver Diesel Lange. He’s still hot and still single, ladies, which baffles this blogger. Someone should snap him up faster than you can say start your engines. Abundant hot men aside, the bridesmaids at the elegant fete, including yours truly, wore Vera Wang dresses in a stunning shade of pumpkin, which looked particularly impressive while doing the chicken dance.The bride wore a sheath dress and looked amazing, and while I could tell you in great detail about food and flowers, it’s time for this writer to sleep off the damage done by champagne and high heels. Word to the wise, people, they never mix well . . .
CHAPTER
FIVE
FIVE
WHEN
Tuesday opened her door to him Saturday night, Diesel blinked. She was wearing riding boots, black leggings, a blazer, and a jaunty little cap.
Tuesday opened her door to him Saturday night, Diesel blinked. She was wearing riding boots, black leggings, a blazer, and a jaunty little cap.
“Uh . . . is there a particular reason you’re dressed like that?”
“You said it’s night at the races. I figured I might as well have fun with it.”
Okay. Expect the unexpected. That’s what he had to remind himself with Tuesday. He wasn’t sure whether to be mildly uncomfortable with her quirkiness or to laugh. He took the middle of the road. “You forgot your riding crop.”
He was kidding.
She was not.
She went into her apartment and picked up a crop off the coffee table. Smacking it on a sofa pillow, she grinned. “No worries, I have it right here.”
Yeah, that was his cock standing up and taking notice. “You look mighty comfortable using that.”
“I know. I have to admit I’m enjoying it.” She thwacked the pillow again, so hard that it jumped a little.
Diesel should have been wincing, but instead he found his erection swelling. There was something incredibly hot about her swinging that. “Remind me to stay on your good side.”
“Oh, come on. You know you want me to discipline you.” With that shocking statement, she breezed past him toward the front door.
After a split second frozen in time where all his blood rushed south and his tongue swelled too thick to use for speech, Diesel recovered and moved in front of Tuesday, cutting her off.
“I think you’re the one who needs to be shown a firm hand.”
Her eyes widened, both with surprise and lust. “Excuse me?”
She had thought he wasn’t going to call her on it, that was obvious. She was one of those who said outrageous things and relied on the fact that most men wouldn’t cross that boundary with her.
He would. “You heard me. Don’t announce a game unless you really want to play it.”
Her hat slipped a little on her head as she stared at him. He stared back, his legs spread.
She swallowed audibly, then she recovered and gave him a sly smile. “Who says I don’t want to play?”
Then play they would. Diesel didn’t pause to reflect on whether or not it was a good idea. He was going with his gut, or more realistically, his cock. Lust had taken hold of him, and every muscle in his body was tight with desire for her. Yanking the crop out of her hand, he told her, “This belongs to me then.”
She gave a sharp intake of air, but she wasn’t appalled. She was aroused by his move, it was clear in the way she rocked slightly toward him, her eyes dark with desire. “Don’t steal my crop.”
“You let me take it.”
Indignation crossed her face. “I did not—”
But Diesel cut her off. He leaned forward, took her head with his hand, and pulled her until the remaining distance between them was gone. When his lips touched hers, his eyes drifted closed on a silent moan. Damn, she tasted good. Her lips were perfect, warm and receptive and full.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss, but he wasn’t intending for it to be rough. Until Tuesday bit him, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip—not in protest, but to spur him on.
Then all bets were off. Burying his hands in her hair, Diesel kissed her with all the pent-up frustration he’d been feeling. Her hands dug into his ass, her breasts shoved up against his chest, while her tongue darted inside his mouth, stroking him into lustful mania.
Damn. She was giving as good as she got, and Diesel felt a low growl rising in his throat. He was so fucking turned on by this woman, it was scary. He wanted to shove her down onto the floor, yank down her stupid riding pants, and ram himself into her. In an effort to stop himself from doing just that, Diesel let go of her hair, broke off the kiss, and sucked in a ragged breath.
Her lips were shiny and wet, her eyes huge, her breathing as frantic as his own.
Sliding the riding crop between her legs, he rubbed it against the
V
of her thighs, the tight pants showing him he was precisely where he wanted to be.
V
of her thighs, the tight pants showing him he was precisely where he wanted to be.
Her eyes drifted closed as she enjoyed the slow stroking of the rod against her clitoris.
Her legs drifted apart. When her hips started to move, creating more of an impact of the crop against her body, Diesel pulled it away.
“Let’s go before we’re late,” he told her.
Her jaw dropped. But she didn’t protest and say a word. Her eyes narrowed. But she brushed past him, her breasts sliding along his arm, her tongue slipping out to tease along his bottom lip.
Diesel tensed. If she touched his cock or bit him again, he wasn’t going to make it to the damn night at the races. He was going to spend the next two hours fucking Tuesday well and good.
But she didn’t touch or bite him. She did pull the crop back out of his hands. “I believe this is mine.”
With that, she walked out the front door, her ass tight and high in those stretchy pants, her head thrown back, her hair flowing.
Diesel had no choice but to follow, aching with lust, and damn impressed with every inch of both her body and her attitude.
He had to admit he could no longer remember why he’d ever shied away from the thought of having sex with her, other than her drunken state. To hell with his bad knee. She could ride him. He could do her bent over the couch. Whatever it took to get him inside her. That was his goal for the night, because now that she’d finally let him kiss her, he wanted way more. He wanted everything.
“Oh, shoot, hang on.” Tuesday turned around and walked past him back into her apartment.
Figuring she had forgotten something, Diesel just idled on the front step, waiting for her to reappear with God only knew what.
What she came back with was a plastic kitchen storage container, which she handed to him. It was filled with cookies.
“What are these?” he asked eyeing the treats as she closed her apartment door.
“I told you I’d bake you cookies if you gave me a shoulder rub at the brunch. You did, so I did. I always keep my promises.” She sailed past him.
Diesel was both touched and turned on. She’d made him cookies. He wasn’t sure a woman had ever made him cookies before. And he’d been stupid enough to let her off the hook for the second half of her offer, which was to eat raw dough off her naked body. His mouth was watering at the very thought.
It was more than a little hellish sitting in the church basement next to her thirty minutes later with a steady stream of dirty thoughts marching through his head. His aunt and uncle were across from him, their eyes wide with curiosity, and the infamous Ellie was alternating between glaring at Tuesday and smiling flirtatiously at him.
Tuesday was in rare form, charming his aunt and uncle with her friendly smiles and witty banter, her hat tilted forward as she made conversation. Diesel was well aware of the fact that her riding crop was leaning on her chair, on the opposite side from where he was sitting, so he couldn’t reach it.
“This is our race, Beth, I’m convinced of it,” Tuesday told his aunt. “I’m betting another ten bucks.”
The way the event worked was that the church played old races on the giant screen at the front of the room. Guests bought individual horses for a small price and if the horse won, they won. There were also opportunities to bet on the placing of the horses and while you could walk away with some winnings, the point was to donate to the charity of your choice.
His aunt laughed. “I love your confidence. I’m in ten more, too.”
They both threw ten-dollar bills into the center of the table.
“Beth, you’ve gone wild tonight,” Johnny told her with a beaming grin.
Apparently everyone had. Diesel was feeling more than a little wild himself, though his intensity had nothing to do with the cash in his wallet. He was having a hard time resisting touching Tuesday, and at random moments, he found himself sliding his hand along her knee and even up into the deep recesses of her thighs. It was the pants. They were just outlining all her goods, he couldn’t help himself. It was her attitude, too, the way she flung her money down with zest and never hesitated.
She also never stopped his hand from climbing higher than was strictly appropriate.
There was pizza and beer, and while she packed away three slices of meat lover’s, Tuesday had stuck to soda, which Diesel liked to see. He figured that meant he was well and truly seeing Tuesday’s personality, not the drunken embellishment of it.
“Oh, damn, our chip bowl is empty.” Tuesday held it up for Diesel to see that it contained just a few lonely potato chip crumbs.
She had been steadily packing them away all night, and he was smart enough to know she wasn’t just pointing out an empty bowl for no apparent reason. “Would you like me to get some more?”
“Would you do that?” She beamed at him. “Why thank you, that’s so sweet.”
He should be more irritated at her obvious manipulation, but he was just amused. And horny. So very, very outrageously horny.
“I’ll go with you,” Johnny said, shoving up out of his own metal folding chair. “Beth, you need anything else, hon? Ellie? Jean?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks, dear.”
Diesel knew that Johnny wanted to talk to him, and they were barely three feet from the table before his uncle was leaning in conspiratorially. “I thought you didn’t want to date.”
“I never said that. I said if I wanted a date, I’d get my own.”
“You got yourself a good one, I’ll give you that. Tuesday is a pistol. Beautiful, clever, and sweet.”
Sweet he wasn’t so sure about. He’d definitely give her beautiful and clever. “That she is.”
“So you really didn’t knock boots with her?” His uncle looked disappointed.
“No, I told you she was loaded.”
“She’s not loaded tonight,” he remarked.
“Why are you so interested in my sex life?” Diesel asked in irritation. He had walked away from Tuesday and the table, yes, to get her more chips, but more to get away from the temptation she presented him. He didn’t really want to stand around and talk about the fact that he hadn’t had the opportunity to see Tuesday naked yet.
“Don’t get defensive.” Johnny threw his hands up as they approached the snack buffet table. “I’m just hinting that maybe if you want to finally get some action before your wanker gets moldy, tonight might be a good chance to go for it.”
The semi-erection Diesel had been battling all night finally disappeared. Somehow that description didn’t sound even remotely hot. “I can’t believe you just said wanker in the church basement. I feel like I’m twelve. And I don’t imagine Tuesday would be very comfortable around you if she realized you’re conspiring to get her in my bed.” He didn’t imagine any woman wanted to be the subject of that kind of gossip.
“Don’t be a prude. She wants you, too, it’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
“What makes you think that?” Diesel figured Johnny was right—that had been a hell of a kiss—but it didn’t hurt to have someone else notice their chemistry.
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