Too frazzled to argue, she headed up the walk and glanced over her shoulder at the arresting and confusing man watching her as she unlocked the door. She gave a quick, awkward wave and walked inside. Only then did he start his bike, but she heard him idling out front while she washed her face and got ready for bed. It wasn’t until she climbed under the covers and turned off her light that she heard him drive away.

Chapter Two

SWEAT DRIPPED DOWN Tracey’s temples as she punched the pads her martial arts instructor, Lior Levy, was holding. She’d been studying under the ex–Navy SEAL for a year and a half, and she was mentally and physically stronger for it. But today her thoughts were all over the place, and she was having trouble focusing on the workout. Diesel had messed with her head far more than the jerk at the bar had last night. She’d spent half the night picking apart the looks Diesel had been giving her lately and the other half battling dirty dreams in which he’d shown her exactly what those dark looks meant. Her dreams had been so vivid, she could still hear his gruff commands, still feel the heat of his flesh and the weight of his massive body as he drove his hard length into her. She’d woken up sweaty and on the verge of orgasm twice and had been forced to ease the tension herself. When she’d closed her eyes, it was his chiseled face she’d seen and his gruff demands that had pulled her over the edge.

“Come on, Trace. Get your head in the game,” Lior encouraged, jarring her from her thoughts. “Explode into each strike.”

She felt her cheeks burn and tried to focus, but right jab, left cross, right hook warred with a combination of Diesel’s gruff commands from her dream—Suck harder. Take it deeper—and the memory of his hands around her middle as he’d plucked her off the steps at Whiskey Bro’s like she was as light as a butterfly and plunked her down on his bike. He was cold, brutal, not at all the kind of guy Tracey imagined herself with, so why was he the only man she’d dreamed about for the last few months?

Right jab, left cross, right hook.

Suck harder. So fucking good.

Right jab, left cross, right hook.

Ride me faster.

Tracey’s insides clenched with desire. “Ugh!” She threw her hands up, trying to walk off her frustration. “I’m sorry, Lior. I need a minute.” She grabbed her water bottle, taking a swig as she paced.