Home > Full Throttle (Fast Track #7)(33)

Full Throttle (Fast Track #7)(33)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Water would be great.” Shawn lifted her knees and her bottom to slide on the new panties, and Rhett caught a visual reminder of his orgasm, a wet trail down her inner thigh.

She clearly wasn’t intending to go clean it off, and he felt a hot punch of possessiveness. He liked to see his come rolling down her leg. It made her his. His wife.

Unnerved himself, Rhett moved out of the room abruptly.

In the bathroom, he cleaned himself off and stared at himself in the mirror, the harsh fluorescent lighting forcing him to squint. He was going too far. He already knew it. He was attaching.

He frowned at his reflection, hands on the smooth marble countertop, the cold a sweet relief to the heat of the bedroom. This should be a warning. He should dial back on the sex with Shawn, take a more vanilla route with her.

Instead, all he wanted to do was go back in the bedroom and start on her all over again until she was quivering with want and coming at his command.

But when he returned with a glass of water for her, she was already asleep.

He tried to tell himself it was for the best, but he didn’t believe it.

CHAPTER TEN

SHAWN woke up with a start, hot under the covers and desperate for a drink. She’d been dreaming about being chased by a tiger, who had backed her into a corner and bared his teeth at her. Heart racing, she rolled onto her side and realized why it was so unusually warm. Her body was being heated by Rhett’s, who was sleeping a mere two inches away. She could feel the warmth radiating off him like a toaster oven. The sun was starting to come up, a sliver of light spreading across the carpet of the bedroom floor.

Swallowing the thick lump that was in her throat, she pushed her hair off her face and studied him. She didn’t know if he was naked below the waist, but he was on top, his arms both out from under the comforter, his head turned toward her. She felt a tender urge to reach out and stroke his cheek, his jaw, but she squashed it, her feelings too muddled. Last night she had done things, said things, allowed things that she didn’t understand and she felt vulnerable, stripped bare.

When he shifted a little, she quickly looked away, afraid he would wake up. There was a glass of water on her nightstand, clearly brought to her by Rhett. She didn’t remember falling asleep, just that when he’d left the room, she’d been relieved. Relieved to be back in protective cotton, the covers over her, her cheeks itchy from crying, her inner thighs hot and sticky. She hadn’t been able to get up, afraid her legs wouldn’t work, afraid she might actually start crying in earnest.

A week ago, she had woken up alone, happy, healthy, content for the most part, heir apparent to the speedway, a single, confident businesswoman.

Now she was . . . what? A wife? A submissive? Terrified? Exhilarated? More sexually satisfied than she had ever been?

She didn’t know. All she knew was that last night she had surrendered to him and enjoyed it.

“Morning,” he murmured from behind her, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, caressing down her arm.

Shawn fought the urge to jerk away. Or worse, to give in and turn to him and beg him to take her again the way he had the night before.

“Morning,” she managed back, staring at the wall before reaching for the glass. The movement forced his hand to fall away from her. “Thanks for the water.”

“You’re welcome.”

The second she settled back on the bed, he was touching her again. Acutely aware of every inch of her body, Shawn’s heart started to race, and not in a good way.

Rhett kissed the side of her head. “Damn it, I have to go to work.”

Thank God. “That sucks,” she lied as she glanced back at him. “Do you want some coffee and eggs or anything?”

“I can fix myself some coffee. You stay in bed, beautiful.”

The bed creaked as he sat up and she struggled to find fault with him. He was considerate. And naked. Very, very naked. With an incredibly tight set of buns. He turned. And a very erect, above average penis. No wonder she was sore this morning. Not that any lingering awareness prevented her from wanting him to pound her again.

She forced her gaze upward again, aware he was speaking and she had no idea what he was saying. “What?”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “Distracted you, didn’t it? Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time for you to check it out when I get home.”

Home. Ugh.

He seemed to realize what he’d said because he added, “Unless you have other plans tonight.”

She shook her head. At the moment, she wasn’t sure if that were a good thing or not.

“Good.” He came back to the bed—still naked, hello—and leaned over her to kiss her fully on the mouth. “Want me to bring home Chinese food? I’ll be back around seven.”

“Sure. Thanks. Have a good day at work.” Could she be any more inane? Could this be any more bizarre?

“Thanks.” He ran his finger across her bottom lip, where she had torn into the flesh the night before, and then gave her a soft kiss. “Last night was very sexy. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

She nodded. Apparently she had not only given complete sexual control over to him, she’d become mute.

“Alright, I’m outta here. See you tonight, Scarlett.”

And that made everything just all that much worse.

Shawn lay in bed for fifteen long minutes, afraid to move, afraid he might come back into the bedroom, until she finally heard him go out the side door, the screen slamming behind him.

She heaved a sigh of relief and jumped out of bed and virtually ran for the shower, locking the door behind her, something she never did in her own house. Turning on the water, she didn’t even wait for it to heat before she jumped in, intent on washing the scent and feel of him off her skin. Using a loofah, she scrubbed every nook and cranny on her body, cheeks burning as she remembered the night before, wondering how she could have let him do those things to her.

Wondering how she could survive if she didn’t let him do it again.

When she got out she was toweling up and feeling more calm. Coffee would help even more.

Then she heard a knock on her front door. That better be a Jehovah’s Witness leaving a pamphlet or she was going to scream. The knocking continued as she pulled on her yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Rushing through the living room, she saw it was Charity and Harley standing on her front step.

Let the fun continue.

“Where the hell have you been?” Charity asked. “It’s colder than tea bagging in ice water out here.”

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