Nor did he leave her alone under there. He actually came under, too, tenting the sheet with his left hand and turning to her. “Tamara, calm down. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. I’m the mother of small children! Yet I slept with a man half my age without even knowing his last name. God, I’m a . . . I’m a . . . a cougar.”
Elec burst out laughing. “You are not a cougar. That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not!” Didn’t he get it? She had lost her mind. Give her three lousy glasses of wine and she was knocking boots with a baby driver, who she had let do all kinds of . . . things to her and who even at that very moment was seeing her naked.
Ack. Tamara covered her br**sts with her arm and clamped the sheet between her legs.
That brought the sheet straight down over his face, which was fine by her.
He punched it back up with his fist. “What exactly is the problem here? Are you regretting that we made love last night? Are you telling me I was a drunken accident?”
Tamara bit her lip. That wasn’t what she meant. Just thinking about how it had felt to have Elec filling her up, moving over her, kissing her so eagerly, had her pausing. She didn’t regret a damn thing. Not really. But she felt guilty. Embarrassed. Like she should regret it.
Like she had betrayed her husband, her children, her image, all of her responsibilities by having sex with Elec. Young, buff, rookie driver Elec.
“No, it wasn’t a drunk accident. I knew what I was doing.” She would be a total bitch if she let him think otherwise, and she had to own up to her actions. The wine had just made her bolder in taking what she had wanted to. She’d have done it with or without the liquid courage.
“Same holds true for me.”
He was looking at her that way again. All intense and serious and sexy. It was warm under the sheet, and she was very aware of his nakedness. The scent of their bodies, warm, and still tinged with the sweet aftermath of sex, filled the small space. Tamara wanted to touch his chest again at the very same time she wanted to bolt and get the hell out of there.
Neither seemed like a great idea so she just lay there waiting for guidance from a higher power. Which could take a while. If she were lucky, Elec would get bored and leave in the meantime.
He had a race to run, after all.
A driver. She had slept with a driver. Whose life revolved around sponsors and crazy hours and poles and winning purses. After swearing she would never get involved with anyone in racing ever again, she had nailed—literally and figuratively—the granddaddy of all in the sport. The man who climbed behind the wheel. Yikes.
“What night do you want to go to dinner?” he asked. “Tomorrow works really well for me.
What’s your schedule like?”
What the hell was he talking about? She blinked at him, still clutching the sheet, vowing that she would not, would not, would not—maybe if she chanted it enough she’d actually believe it—touch any part of him with any part of her. “Dinner?”
“You said you’d go to dinner with me. I want to make plans before I head out.”
She could honestly say she had no memory of agreeing to that. If she had, it had been before she’d known he was a rookie driver a minute out of high school. “Oh, I don’t know .
. . maybe that’s not such a great idea.”
Elec frowned. “Are you giving me the morning-after brush-off?”
Did he have to phrase it like that? It was only marginally true. She wasn’t brushing him off so much as coming to her senses and realizing that she could not date Elec. Even if she’d had amazing, hot, lovely sex with him. Tamara blew her hair out of her eyes. This dating thing was hard and she was seriously not up for the challenge.
“Of course not,” she said because he looked hurt and she didn’t want that. Didn’t mean that. She owed him a great deal for giving her such a fabulous reentry into post-marriage sex. He had made her feel sexy and uninhibited and that was no small thing.
“Okay, so how about tomorrow night then?”
She had a built-in excuse, thank goodness. “I have my kids tomorrow night.” Her children.
Those small human beings who had no idea their mother had lost her everlovin’ mind.
Elec proved himself to be stubborn, imagine that in a driver. “Tuesday then,” he insisted.
“Or Wednesday. I don’t fly to Dover until Thursday.”
“I can’t get a sitter on such short notice.” Tamara was starting to panic all over again. He was going to pursue this dinner date and she didn’t think she should go at the same time she kept thinking she actually did want to go. It seemed like a bad idea, but her girl side, the one who had hopped into bed with Elec, seemed to feel it was a rockin’ good idea to see him again. And how she could feel both counter-emotions at the same time was mind-boggling.
“Okay,” he said. “So we’ll plan on next Monday then. I’ll get your number in a minute when I stand up and get my pants. I think my phone is in the pocket.”
So they were going out the following Monday. Just like that. Well. Tamara tried to figure out how she felt about that, but suddenly Elec moved in beside her, letting go of the sheet so it fell over both of their heads and they were ensconced in cotton, his body all up alongside hers, his face so close she could see the fawn-colored stubble on his chin.
“What are you doing?” she asked nervously. His third leg was pushing against her thigh with enough force to indicate it was fully hard, and she was alarmed at the proximity of all that hardness to the part of her that was suddenly alert and ready to roll out the welcome mat. Again. Her lonely body was betraying her, that was for certain.
“Getting my good luck kiss. Every driver needs one before a race.” He gave her a devilish smile.
Tamara melted a little. Hell, a lot. Still, she managed to voice an unconvincing protest. “I don’t think they’re usually naked when they get them. That would look kind of funny in the pits.”
“Guess they’ll be jealous then, because my kiss is going to be extra lucky.”
They were both lying on their sides and Elec’s hand stroked across her waist and hip as he leaned forward and claimed her mouth. Mercy, the man could kiss. He used his tongue to absolute perfection, with just enough pressure and depth to make her crazy with desire, but not so much that he was drilling for oil, nor so little that a girl had to wonder why he was even bothering. It was just right, commanding but not forceful, slick and smooth and delicious.