Flat-Out Sexy(11)

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 breasts 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.                       
       
           



       

She had really missed kissing, and feeling a man's chest against hers,  she had missed the way it felt to have arms wrapped around her, hard to  her soft, big to her small. Orgasms could be achieved on her own, but  nothing replaced the press of a man's mouth over hers, the flick of his  tongue across hers, and the grip of his hand in the back of her hair.

Even as Elec's fingers started to wander to cup her breasts, Tamara knew  she was lost again. It had just been too long, and Elec knew all the  right places to touch, and while she knew she should stop him, the words  never seemed to leave her mouth. It was too busy opening for his  assault, too busy kissing back, licking and nipping at his bottom lip.  God, she was aroused over nothing, and she squeezed his biceps just for  the thrill of it, ran her hands over his firm back, down to his tight  behind.

Cupping that firm, bare flesh, she might have actually pulled him  forward hard, forcing his hips and erection to collide with her again,  but if anyone ever asked her about it, she was going to deny it.

"I'm feeling luckier already," Elec said, breaking off the kiss and staring at her, his breathing ragged.

That was it? He was going to take the kiss and leave? Tamara felt profoundly disappointed.

"Have a good race," she said for lack of anything better to say.

"Oh, I'm not ready to leave just yet. I want another kiss."

She didn't know him well enough to read the expression in his dark eyes  but it was obvious he was telling the truth. He was making no move to  leave the bed and somehow she doubted another kiss was all he was asking  for. Common sense and years of being around the track compelled her to  remind him, "You'll be late. If you miss the drivers' meeting, they'll  send you to the back of the qualifying pack."

"I won't be late. If we stop talking and start kissing."

So now he was all logic. Tamara couldn't help but smile. She flicked her  finger against his chest, loving how muscular it was. "You're the one  who started this conversation."

"Good point. Okay, I'm shutting up now. After I ask you to kiss it."

It? "Kiss you, you mean?" she asked, feeling her cheeks heat up. She  knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had given him oral sex the  night before, but that had been spontaneous. Hearing him ask for it,  well, it was a touch embarrassing. Unless that wasn't what he had meant.  It probably wasn't what he meant at all. It must mean his mouth and she  was a total hooch for thinking otherwise.