Erin McCarthy - Full Throttle

He stopped on his way across the kitchen and studied her. “You like to play this game, don’t you? You want me to get aggressive and throw you down on the floor and prove you like my attention.”

Maybe. “No, of course not. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Hell, the truth was, she did want him to throw her down and make her forget that they were married. Which was messed up, she had to admit.

“Liar.” He laughed softly. “But the answer is no. Because I don’t dance on a puppet string. If you want me to fuck you, just ask and I’ll decide if I want to give it to you or not.”

Shawn felt her jaw drop. “You’ll decide? Oh, you’ll decide? Screw that!” Any sort of tender feelings she’d been having toward him disappeared pronto. She was sorry she’d let him gag her. Shawn Hamby was not to be gagged. She had things to say, damn it. Opinions that mattered. “I am not the kind of woman who is going to beg you for sex.”

“Who said anything about begging? I meant I think you’re strong enough to ask for what you want without dancing around in passive-aggressive style. Don’t hint, then expect me to do all the work. It doesn’t suit you.” With that, he went down the basement steps.

Shawn was tempted to throw a coffee mug at the back of his head. “Asshole,” she muttered in frustration, and it felt good. She didn’t understand him. At all.

Wouldn’t he want her to be sly about sex? Wasn’t that the point of a man who wanted to dominate? She was supposed to be coy and shy, and he was supposed to grab her and do her? He was right, she was willing to play that game. But this one? She didn’t even know what game they were playing, let alone what the rules were.

Which pissed her off. She didn’t like to lose. She was a born competitor.

So when he came back upstairs with tools in hand, knelt down, and leaned into the dishwasher, she couldn’t let it go. “I thought you wanted to do the work. I thought that was the whole freaking point. So what am I supposed to do, Rhett? What am I allowed to do? Not that I ever agreed to be your submissive, but what does a submissive do exactly if it’s not flirt, beg, hint, or demand?”

His head popped out of her dishwasher. “You’re supposed to trust me. You’re supposed to trust me enough to be honest and direct with me.”

It wasn’t an answer that was going to satisfy her. Ever. “How is this for direct? You can sleep in the guest room tonight.”

Rhett didn’t say anything, which further annoyed her. He just fiddled and unscrewed and pulled something that looked like a dead mouse—holy shit, was that a mouse?—out of her dishwasher. Shawn waited until he had dropped the pile of yuck he was holding, expecting him to answer her. But he didn’t.

“Aren’t you going to answer me?”

“I wasn’t aware that was a question,” he replied.

She threw her soapy sponge at him. “Don’t be a smart-ass.”

The sponge bounced off his knee, leaving a trail of suds down his shin. He didn’t even look up. “You told me I’m sleeping in the guest room. I told you that this is your house, and I’ll do whatever you say. So I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

That was a deflating response to her anger.

No. She definitely did not understand Rhett Ford.

“What happened to ordering Chinese food?” It was an emotional hook to hold on to her anger, she knew that. Was fully aware of how juvenile it was. Yet couldn’t stop herself from seeking some sin to lay at his feet.

“I came home early. But I can order it now if you’d like. I can go and pick it up.”

Said the man very respectfully as he fixed her dishwasher. She was stymied. “We can just get it delivered.”

Finishing the dishes, Shawn dried her hands off and reached for her cell phone. While Rhett worked, she found herself dialing for delivery, asking him what he wanted.

By the time the food arrived, he had finished with the dishwasher and was washing his hands. “We can test it with the Chinese food dishes,” he told her. “But it should run just fine now.”

“Thanks.” Because she was grateful and sheepish and uncomfortable. What was happening between them? It was something. It was nothing. It was nothing she’d ever encountered and nothing she understood.

She wanted to trust him, but to what end? She didn’t know. And she wasn’t quite there yet.

While eating, they talked about the track schedule and about Rhett’s car and who to hire as a marketing director. His advice was sound, his tone respectful. After watching the cup series race on TV, Shawn went to bed.

Alone. Rhett just said good night and gave her a yawn, still on the couch.

It should have felt like a victory.

Instead it just felt unsatisfying. Like diet ice cream.

In her PJ bottoms and a USC T-shirt, she poked her head out of her room and called down the hallway, “Do you need help moving tomorrow? I can come to your apartment and help you pack, or clean the apartment, or whatever.”

“No, that’s okay,” he called back. “I’m sure Nolan and I can handle it.”

That wasn’t satisfying either. “No, really, I can help.” She wasn’t a total bitch. She was helpful, a hard worker, a good friend. She just didn’t like being told what to do. But she could offer. “You want the apartment clean or you won’t get your deposit back.”

“Yeah, Nolan would probably appreciate that since it’s his.” Rhett was just in her line of view, even though he was twenty feet away. She couldn’t read his expression. “Thanks, Shawn.”

“You’re welcome. And thanks again for fixing the dishwasher.”

“My pleasure.”

She hovered in the doorway, feeling like an idiot. Then she said, “Good night,” yet again and retreated, closing her door behind her.

When she climbed into bed, she swore she could smell him on her sheets.

The vibrator stared at her in the dark from the nightstand, mocking her, while her vagina berated her for being so stubborn.

Maybe her pillow would like to insult her while they were at it. Shawn punched it so it wouldn’t get any ideas, and threw her head down, feeling bitter, determined not to think about Rhett.

So far marriage was a dress that didn’t fit her.

She’d much rather be naked.

With Rhett. Naked, him thrusting into her again, her cries trapped by the tight fabric over her mouth . . .

Uh-oh. If this was her not thinking about it, this was going to be a long night.

Because she knew from experience that he would not come into her room.

And she was right. He didn’t.

RHETT threw the last of his clothes in one of the boxes Nolan had brought with him and surveyed his empty bedroom. He wasn’t sorry to be leaving this small and dark apartment, though he was sorry he’d been relegated to Shawn’s guest bedroom. But it was for the best, for now. He wasn’t going to live with that passive-aggressive shit, where she poked at him and circled around what was bothering her and jabbed with sly, underhanded comments. So he would stay in the guest room and hope she would learn to trust him, learn that she could say whatever she was thinking, feeling, and he would respect that.

He wanted to make her happy. It was that simple.

But he wasn’t going to be put in a position where he never knew if a sponge, or worse, was going to come at him.

Was he demanding and intense? Yes, he was. He couldn’t change that, and he was honest about it, had been from the first minute he met her. But he was also fair, helpful, polite. So he liked to think. So why was Shawn fighting him so hard at every turn? It was like she was determined to wrest power from him.

“You okay?” Nolan asked him, appearing in the doorway. “You look like you could chew glass and like it.”

Rhett shrugged. “I don’t know, man. Why didn’t you warn me that marriage was complicated?”

Nolan’s eyebrows shot up. “Because I didn’t know you were going to elope about three minutes after meeting Shawn. If I had, I might have suggested you wait a month or twelve and get to know her before getting hitched. But you did, so you’re in it now. What’s going on?”

“I feel like Shawn is trying really hard to hold on to her independence and prove that she can’t be controlled. But I don’t want to control her. I just want to be partners, and when you’re partners, sometimes one is the leader and sometimes the other is, depending on the situation. It’s natural.” That was what he had seen with his parents’ and his siblings’ marriages, and he wanted that for himself. He wanted to lead their intimate sexual relationship and let her lead the rest. Why was that so difficult? Hell, he’d think a woman would jump at that.

“You’re right, it is. But maybe because this is a brand-new relationship, you’re going to need time to sort that out. Moving in together is a big step, let alone getting married, so cut Shawn some slack.”

Nolan was right. Especially considering they weren’t really even married. What the hell did Rhett really expect from her? “You’re right. And I am figuring her out, that’s for sure. She’ll be here in a few minutes because she feels guilty about getting short with me last night. She’s the kind of woman who throws something out there in anger and impulse, then immediately does something thoughtful that’s totally unrelated because she feels bad.”

“I think she and Eve are friends for a reason. They’re similar personality types. But I don’t get the sense Shawn worries as much as Eve does.”

“Oh, I think she worries plenty.” Rhett dropped the box on the floor and lifted the mattress from his bed off of the box spring so he could start to disassemble the bed frame. “Funny, neither of us married a woman like our mother. Momma never worries. She has total confidence the world will bend to her will.”

“Ha, that’s true. But I’m not surprised you didn’t. You’re basically Mom, you know. I’m more like Dad. But I have a need to mediate, calm things down. I think Eve and I are a good fit that way.”

Rhett realized that marriage had already changed his relationship with his brother. They were talking man-to-man, friend to friend, instead of big brother to little brother, or adult to child. As of yet, they’d barely even made fun of each other in the last hour. It was nice to be able to share with Nolan, yet there was a limit to how long they could talk about their feelings without a drop in testosterone.

“I am not my mother. That’s disturbing.” He shoved the mattress against the wall. “Now are you going to stand there and scratch your nuts, or are you going to help me?”

Nolan grinned. “Definitely nut-scratching.”

His sister Jeannie and her husband, Mark, were in the living room, picking through the remains of Nolan’s old furniture that Rhett had inherited and no longer needed. They were trying to furnish their finished basement on a budget. Rhett figured when he and Shawn divorced and he moved out of her house, he would just start fresh with new stuff. It would be a small reward to himself for surviving the six months intact.

The doorbell rang. “Come in!” Rhett yelled as loud as he could, already wresting the box spring up.

They could hear Jeannie greeting someone and Nolan took the box of clothes and went out into the living room, leaving Rhett alone with the box spring, which, while not heavy, was awkward for one person to maneuver. “Thanks, dick!” he called at his brother’s retreating back.

Nolan’s response was his middle finger thrown over his shoulder.

Yep. They were back to being brothers.

A second later, Shawn’s head popped into the bedroom. “Hi,” she said, sounding breathless, her dark blond hair tousled from the wind.

Rhett smiled at her because, the truth was, he was glad to see her. He liked the companionship between them, despite the speed bump of the night before. He wanted their relationship to work. He didn’t know what he meant by that exactly, but he did. He wanted to be with her, in some legitimate capacity, for whatever time they had together.

“Hey, beautiful, how was your day?” He slammed the box spring against the mattress propped against the wall, and bent down to get his wrench out of his toolbox.

“It was good.” She sounded surprised by that fact. “Eve had some great suggestions for PR, and I posted the job listing for a marketing rep. I cleared more stuff with the lawyer, and I signed vendor contracts for the season. How about you?”

“I slept in. It was awesome. Then I worked out. And now here I am, breaking down a bed I don’t need.”