Erin McCarthy - Full Throttle

And Lordy be, wasn’t he cold? It was February after all.

Shawn took the USC afghan off the easy chair and slowly, carefully draped it over Rhett.

“Thanks,” he murmured, eyes closed.

She jumped. Shit, he was awake. Sort of. His breathing was even and steady, like he was already sliding back into sleep. Shawn stood there for a minute, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did, so she went back to bed. Alone. And cursed herself to the ends of the earth for falling for another double-dog dare.

It was cold and lonely and very unsatisfying in her queen-size bed solo.

* * *

IT didn’t help when Rhett came in at seven in the morning, fully dressed, and gently shook her awake. “Shawn.”

“What?” she asked crossly, running on about zero sleep, her dreams plagued with erotic images of Rhett stroking her to orgasm, over and over.

“I have to go to work. I just called a cab. Are you going to be home later when I get back, or can you leave the door unlocked for me?”

Oh, my God. Details. More effing details. They were killing her. “I’ll be home.” Masturbating, apparently, since she was even hornier now than when she’d gone to bed. “And I can drive you to your car if you want. You’re going to need it, obviously.” Even though she would rather walk through a fire anthill naked, she would get up and drive him. Right after she pried her eyes open. They felt slightly glued together, but she managed to focus more clearly on him.

He looked wide-awake and sexy. Bastard.

“Don’t worry about it, babe. I’ll have Nolan take me to my car. You sleep in.”

She tried to find something asshole-ish in any of that, but there wasn’t anything. Geez. He was making this so difficult. “Are you sure?”

He smiled. “Yes, I’m sure. See you later. And I’d love steak for dinner if you were wondering what to fix.”

That had her eyes popping back open. “Excuse me?”

Rhett actually laughed. “I’m kidding. God, the look on your face was great.”

“You’re not allowed to joke,” she told him, completely serious. “It’s out of character.”

That just made him grin even wider. “Go back to sleep, Shawn.”

He leaned down and kissed her, which made her squawk in alarm. She had saliva in the corner of her mouth, damn it.

Not that it mattered. It was a very brotherly sort of kiss. Or grandson to grandmother on her birthday. Coupled with his complete lack of interest in nailing her the night before, she suddenly felt very grumpy as he left her alone in her bed. What the hell was going on? Yes, she was fully intending to reject him, or more accurately fend him off for the next six days in order to prove her point, but the thing was, he was supposed to be making it necessary to fend him off. There was no need to fend, because he wasn’t trying anything. What was up with that?

Was she just no longer attractive to him? Did he see this as a purely business deal after all? The idea of being forced into celibacy for the next year was more than a little horrifying. Never mind that it had been a year since she’d had sex anyway, at least then she’d had the option of sex. But if Rhett didn’t want to diddle her, then she was going to be diddle-less.

That was not going to fly. Shawn shoved the covers back and decided she was going to brew some coffee, and then she was going to make Rhett Ford want her more than any woman he’d ever met in his entire life.

* * *

RHETT pulled up to Shawn’s house at six, exhausted and admittedly a little bit irritated. It had been a long day at work, juggling his usual responsibilities with having to repeat explanations over and over that yes, he had gotten married. No, he wasn’t an idiot. Yes, his new wife was older than him, and why did that matter? It had been harder than he had expected because he wasn’t really the kind of guy to share his feelings with anyone, least of all his coworkers.

What he would really like to do to turn his mood around was walk inside that house and bend his wife over the kitchen table and bury his frustration inside her wet and willing thighs. Only she was acting skittish and like she regretted this fake marriage, even though it had been her idea. It both insulted and hurt him, which just further increased his bitter mood.

There would be no easy conversation, no cuddling, no ball-draining endless nights in her bed. At least not yet. It was going to require patience and finesse he wasn’t entirely sure he had to coax Shawn into understanding this would all go a whole lot faster if they spent some of it in bed.

It had him wound tight, and he shoved the side door open harder than he intended.

What he saw in the kitchen was very possibly the only thing on earth that could have improved his mood.

Shawn was bent over the oven in a short dress and heels, pulling a couple of T-bone steaks out of the broiler. As he kicked off his muddy boots on the doormat, she turned. The front view was even better than the back. Her dress plunged in a V, and her breasts had been pushed up and together, like a couple of perky grapefruits in the grocery, on display perfectly. Just for him.

She smiled. “Oh, good, you’re just in time for dinner.”

Hello. “Well, then good thing I’m hungry.”

Fanning herself with the oven mitt, she said, “Whew, the broiler made me so hot. I think I need a cool drink.” She tugged her dress down lower, exposing enough cleavage to have his cock standing up to take notice as he went up the steps to the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything? A beer?” She picked up a cherry that had been used to garnish a pie—a fucking pie—and sucked the syrupy sauce off it, the plump fruit between her lips, a sassy glint in her eye.

Seriously? What alien had abducted Shawn and replaced her with this little flirt?

He wanted to ask her if she had hit her head, but the truth was, he didn’t really want the answer to that question. Whatever her game was—and it was clearly a game—he didn’t want to prevent her from playing. In fact, she sparked his competitive nature. If there was a game going on, he was bound and determined to win it. That was why he liked to be behind the wheel racing instead of on a crew. He liked to control the situation.

So he went over to her, still wearing his coat, and immediately gripped the back of her head with his hand, pulling her to him for a kiss, a hot, wet, tongue-plunging kiss that transferred the cherry from her lips to his mouth, where he bit it, then shared the sweet tangy juice with her.

Then he broke away and told her, “I stole your cherry.” He swiped the remnants of the juice that were clinging to her swollen lip and sucked it off his finger. “Mmm.”

“You didn’t even ask,” she said, her voice husky with desire. Her nipples jutted out prominently in her stretchy black dress, and her hair was loose around her shoulders. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing more makeup than usual, her eyes carefully outlined in a charcoal gray.

Someone was trying to mess with him.

“You didn’t stop me,” he told her. “By the way, I like this dress. What’s the occasion?” He fiddled with the neckline, following the trail as it descended to her rib cage, his flesh brushing against the creamy exposed hills of her breasts.

“Just trying to get off on the right foot,” she said, leaning back on the counter. “We have to live together for a while. It would be better to do it in harmony.”

“It would be better to do it naked,” he told her, slipping a finger inside the dress to stroke lazily across her swollen nipple. “Pull your dress down, Shawn. Show me your breasts.”

“What? No!” Her cheeks pinkened from more than the blush she’d put on them.

Like he believed her indignation. “Why not? You clearly want me to notice them, otherwise you wouldn’t have put this dress on, and this bra that so nicely thrusts them out in my direction. So pull down the neck and let me really see them.”

“No. Does being so bossy work for you?” she asked, even as her hand fluttered up to her chest, her fingers playing with the fabric of the neckline, which was really more of a navel line, the plunge was so pronounced. “Because you’re very good at it.”

“Not really,” he told her truthfully, shifting his leg in between her ankles. “I haven’t met a woman strong enough to handle me yet.”

“Strong enough? Don’t you mean passive enough?”

He shook his head. “No. That’s been my mistake. I only scare those women. What I need is a woman strong enough to trust me, confident enough to enjoy obedience. I don’t want you to pull your dress down at my command and feel ashamed to do it. I want you to do it and be turned on by it, aroused by my demands. It’s a big difference.” His lust was dark and swirling inside him, a hot desire on his tongue, and he wanted her with an urgency that had him clenching his fists by his sides, his cock thick and throbbing in his jeans.

Her breathing had grown deeper, her eyes wide. “Oh. I guess I get that. But I’m not having sex with you tonight.”

“No,” he agreed. “You’re not having sex with me until I say so.”

She wouldn’t like that. At all. But it was true.

Then she did exactly what he had known she would. She peeled down her dress, taking her bra with it, so that her breasts sprang out, her nipples just barely in view. “Is this what you wanted to see?”

What she didn’t realize was that in her attempt to thwart him, to exert control, she had in fact submitted to him. It was immensely sexy.

She was also wearing the red lace bra he had given her, if he was not mistaken, which was deeply satisfying.

“Yes, that’s what I wanted to see.” Rhett just drank in the sight of her, color high in her cheeks, head held tall and proud, ripe breasts gloriously bare, a mere foot in front of him. If he leaned over, he could suck the taut bud up into his mouth and sink his teeth down on it, turning them both on with the sharp tang of her pain before he soothed her with his tongue. But he didn’t.

Instead, he kissed her mouth, a soft, gentle, worshipping kiss, but not of the fervor of their earlier tongue tangle. Her hands were trapped behind them, her breasts pushed against his chest between them. “Thank you,” he told her as casually as he could manage. “Now let’s eat this dinner you were so sweet to make before it gets cold. Where are your plates?”

He moved out of her personal space and opened a cupboard to look for plates, knowing she would be baffled by his withdrawal. Just like he wanted.

SHAWN wasn’t sure exactly what had just happened, but it definitely wasn’t what she had intended. Yes, she had purposely dressed in an outfit that would get his attention, and she had made dinner to throw him off-kilter. The only one in this damn kitchen who was off-kilter was her. Somehow, he had effectively turned the entire situation to his advantage.

Now she was just sopping wet and aching to be taken by him.

She had proved to herself that he was interested in her, and wow, wasn’t that a satisfying victory? Not. He seemed to want her, alright. Wanted to torture her.

It wasn’t every day she flashed a guy. It seemed like it should be a little more noteworthy than “Where are the dinner plates?” But maybe that was just her.

“In the cupboard next to the fridge.” Shawn bent over again to retrieve the twice-baked potatoes out of the oven, hoping that Rhett was looking so he would see that she had logged a lot of time at Zumba and yoga classes to get these legs.

He hadn’t even noticed that she was wearing the bra he had gifted her with the day before. She was also wearing the matching thong, not that he was going to see it.

“I hope you like twice-baked potatoes and asparagus,” she said, using tongs to pull the broiled vegetables off the pan and onto the two plates Rhett brought over to her.

“I do.” He stood next to her, facing her, while she was facing the counter, which brought him in close and intimately. “Thank you again. I appreciate this.” And he tucked her hair back behind her ear, a personal gesture that made her want to step away, retreat.

But she held her ground, and she transferred potatoes to plates. “You’re welcome. So does everyone know we’re married? Did you tell your parents?”

He nodded. “They were more than a little surprised. And we’re the subject of gossip at the track. Most people seem to be of the opinion that you’re pregnant.”

“What?” Shawn carried the two plates over to her kitchen table and set them down. “I guess I’m not surprised, though nothing could be further from the truth.” According to seventh grade health class she couldn’t get knocked up from a toilet seat, and it wasn’t going to happen any other way, so she was safe.