Home > Full Throttle (Fast Track #7)(23)

Full Throttle (Fast Track #7)(23)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“You didn’t even ask,” she said, her voice husky with desire. Her ni**les 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 br**sts.

“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 br**sts.”

“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 c**k 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 br**sts sprang out, her ni**les 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 br**sts 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 br**sts 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.

CHAPTER SEVEN

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.

“Good to know. I’d hate to think I was your cover for having an illegitimate child. I don’t really want to end up on the Maury Povich show. Rhett Ford, you are not the father.”

Shawn laughed. “Yeah, me either. Do you want some wine?”

“What I want is something that’s not on the menu,” he told her, even as he glanced down at his steak. “Though this looks very tasty.”

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