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 ass**le-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 br**sts 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 cle**age to have his c**k 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 f**king 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.”