She shrugged. “A while.”
“Ever think of callin’ a taxi?”
“My wallet was in...” Shit.
He eyeballed her. “In?”
“The car,” she finished reluctantly.
“Whose car?”
Her mouth twisted.
With a curse, he mounted his bike. “Get on my sled. Discussin’ this somewhere other than here.”
“D, I don’t think I can straddle the bike in my skirt.”
“Take it off.”
Her eyes bugged out. “What?”
“Take. It. Off.”
“I’m only wearing a thong,” she whispered.
He dropped his head and stared at his boot for a second, then two, then for more than thirty seconds.
Finally, with a tight jaw, he shrugged his cut off his shoulders, ripped his T-shirt over his head and without even looking at her, held it out. “Put it on. Take that shit off, then burn it. Don’t want to see you in that again.”
There was no way she was burning her skirt. It was cute and she looked good in it. She just wouldn’t wear it to church. Or the garage. Or in front of Diesel.
With a sigh, she plucked the oversized tee from his fingers, yanked it over her head and then, after unzipping it, she shimmied out of her skirt. His T-shirt was so big she felt like she was wearing a muu-muu. It covered her practically to her knees.
She wrinkled her nose. And it smelled funky. She couldn’t quite place it.
“You done?”
“Yeah,” she answered.
“Then why we still sittin’ here?”
After a slight hesitation, she climbed on behind him, grabbing onto his thick waist over his leather vest, which he had shrugged back on over his bare torso.
Well, his anger would have to keep him warm on the ride back, she thought. At least she had his shirt covering her formerly bare legs since the nights were starting to cool down as they approached the end of summer.
“Gotta hold tighter than that, woman. Otherwise, your ass is gonna be on the pavement.”
With a sigh, Jewel wrapped her arms as much as she could around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back. She jerked her head back. She finally recognized the smell. “You and your shirt smell like pussy.”
“Yep. Shit you get when you call me in the middle of the night.”
“It’s morning.”
“Like I said, middle of the fuckin’ night.” He kicked his starter and the bike roared to life, his straight pipes rumbling through the city streets, echoing off the rowhomes.
Learn more about Down & Dirty: Diesel here:
http://www.jeannestjames.com/down-dirty-diesel-damc
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