Slow Ride (17 page)
When he finally relaxed, dropping his head back onto the bed, trying to catch his breath, Tuesday collapsed back down onto his chest.
“Yummy,” she said, then yawned.
“Indeed.”
“You have a good penis,” she told him.
Diesel laughed. She said the funniest damn things. “Thanks, sweetheart. I can’t take any credit for it, but I appreciate it.”
“I like your tattoo.” Her finger ran up and down his side, lightly. “Very badass.”
“Thanks. I didn’t notice any ink on you. Not your thing?”
Her shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t ever imagine what I would want on my body permanently. I’m not opposed to it.”
Laying there was sticky and comfortable. Diesel felt his own yawn building up and he tried to squelch it. “You want a shower before we sleep?”
Her head lifted and she pulled a face. “Sure, a shower would be good, but I can’t sleep. I’m hungry.”
“You’re hungry?” Was she serious? “It’s . . .” He glanced at his cell phone on the nightstand. “Two in the morning.”
“I want Chinese food.”
“Chinese food? Are you kidding me? You ate like three pieces of pizza and a whole bowl of chips.”
She peeled herself off his chest and gave him a cold raised eyebrow stare. “You got a problem with a woman who likes to eat? Would you prefer I be like Jonas Strickland’s wife Nikki and carry around a bag of lettuce as my go-to snack?”
Shit. He had sounded like an ass, hadn’t he? “No, of course not. I’m just impressed, that’s all. Most women wouldn’t be confident enough to order Chinese food at two in the morning.” He wasn’t sure that sounded right either, but what the hell was he supposed to say? He started sweating, trying to think of something better to say.
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.
Five minutes later they were out on his back patio with Wilma accompanying them, and Tuesday felt even more content. The August night was beautiful. There was a multitude of stars twinkling overhead and the crickets were chatting noisily. Diesel had tossed a match down onto the logs in his fire pit and they were crackling, a sweet smoke rising in the air. There was a chaise that Tuesday would have loved to have snuggled in with Diesel, but she had noticed he was limping. He didn’t say anything, obviously, but she didn’t want to risk putting pressure on his knee or accidentally bumping it. So she had sat down at the dining table.
It was wrought iron and pressing into her butt, but that was a minor inconvenience. Dragging her legs up onto the seat, she pulled the T-shirt over her knees and rested her chin on her elbows. “It feels awesome out here. This is a beautiful yard.”
“Thanks. I like it. I like to go fishing in the pond.”
“You have a pond?”
“Yep.” He gestured into the blackness. “We can walk down there if you like.”
Doing that in the total darkness seemed like a recipe for drowning death. But she didn’t want to be a buzz kill. “Maybe another time.”
“You afraid of the dark?”
“No. I’m not afraid of anything.” Just being alone. Dropping her feet so her legs dangled above the brick patio, she added, “I have no phobias. Heights, spiders, small spaces . . . none of those bother me.”
“But a pond does?”
“Who said the pond bothers me?”
“You did.”
“I did not!” He liked to mess with her and Tuesday couldn’t help it, she walked right into it every single time. “God, where’s a throw pillow when you need one?”
“Why would you need a throw pillow?”
“To smother you.”
Diesel laughed. He glanced down at his phone as it lit up. “Food must be here. Are you going to drink your crappy beer with it that you insisted we stop for? I can grab it out of the car.”
“I’m not drinking that swill. I bought that just to prove a point to you.” She stood up. “Give it to your decorator.”
“Oh, my God.” Diesel stood up as well. “You’re a nut, you know that?”
“It’s part of my unique charm.”
They cut through the garage, the lights going on automatically when Diesel opened the back door. His garage was amazing, a man cave of machinery, car parts, and saw dust. It was the only part of his house she’d seen so far that wasn’t completely tidy. It seemed like the garage was where he really lived, where he spent a lot of time. There were empty soda cans lying around and a balled-up McDonald’s bag. She was happy to note there were no largely naked women posters hanging up on the walls. There was nothing more deflating than to see an airbrushed blonde in a bikini with leg warmers displayed prominently in an otherwise intelligent man’s house.
The delivery guy was holding his arm up to his eyes like the light was blinding him. Tuesday figured they were Captain and Lady Obvious here with their bedhead and 2 A.M. food order. But the man holding the food just gave them a dismissive once-over. She was a little disappointed. What was the point of walking around post-sex with no bra on if the delivery guy wasn’t going to be jealous?
“He was checking you out,” Diesel said, an edge of annoyance in his voice as they walked back through the garage.
“What? He was not.” Tuesday gave him an incredulous look. “He didn’t even look at me.”
“He was totally checking you out.”
Was Diesel actually jealous? She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “Now you’re the one who’s insane.”
“Insane enough to be ordering fried rice at three in the morning.”
“How did 2 A.M. become 3 A.M.? And you act like you haven’t seen either one in a decade.”
“It’s possible I haven’t.”
“Now you really are acting like an old man.” His response was to swat her backside. “Ow. Will you stop that? You need to stay away from my butt.”
He smirked. “You won’t be saying that later.”
She wasn’t touching that one. “Eat your egg roll.”
They sat back at the table and started to eat in companionable silence. Egg roll half in his mouth, Diesel tossed his hair back and reached over and stole her fortune cookie.
“Hey. That’s mine.” She smacked his wrist with her chopsticks.
“I need it for bribery. You said you’d do anything for cookies.”
“Fortune cookies don’t count.”
“I’m not surprised you know how to use chopsticks.” He was using a plastic fork. “You’re that kind of woman.”
“What kind of woman?” Tuesday shoved a piece of chicken in her mouth.
“The kind of woman who
knows
things.” He smiled at her.
knows
things.” He smiled at her.
She wasn’t sure how much she really knew about anything but she did know that smile was going to have her naked again if he didn’t stop. It was just so sexy and naughty. “You look like you know a thing or two yourself. That garage has machinery from one end to the other. You could build a nuclear weapon in there.”
Other books
Memories Are Made of This by June Francis
What the Heart Knows by Colt, Shyla
Novel 1959 - The First Fast Draw (v5.0) by Louis L'Amour
Wild Island by Jennifer Livett
Redemption of the Dead by Luke Delaney
In a Class of Their Own by Millie Gray
The Crash of Hennington by Patrick Ness
Distraction by McPherson, Angela
Pilgrims of Promise by C. D. Baker
Confessions of a French Baker by Peter Mayle