Read Online Flat-Out Sexy by Erin McCarthy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Erin McCarthy
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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
“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
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