Full Throttle (Fast Track #7)(24)
Author: Erin McCarthy

She shouldn’t ask. She knew what he meant. It wasn’t exactly subtle. But for whatever perverse reason that meant she probably needed therapy, she wanted to hear him say it out loud. “What is it that you want?” she asked, ignoring her own plate of food as she walked across the kitchen, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor as she went for a bottle of merlot.

Any other man she’d ever dated would have said, “You” or “Isn’t it obvious?” or something generically similar. She knew that wouldn’t be Rhett’s answer. He would give specifics, and they would make her wish she hadn’t asked at the same time they would turn her on. A lot.

She was right, and she did like being right.

He said, “I want you, Shawn. I want you out of that dress, strewn across this table with your legs spread for me so I can lick your pu**y until you scream. Until you beg me for my cock. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Shawn froze in front of the wine rack she had mounted on the wall next to the fridge. It was a rhetorical question, she supposed, and she knew what her answer was, but if she said it, well, would that mean she’d lost?

Then again, what would she lose? A bet that had no stakes, really? Or her dignity? No. He wasn’t trying to strip her of that.

More likely she would lose control, that’s what she was afraid of.

It was going to be a very long six months if she was terrified the entire time.

So she turned around and very slowly, she nodded. “I probably would like that.”

He smiled. Then said, “Sit down, babe. I can get the wine for you.”

“I’m fine. I have it.” Turning away, Shawn used her automatic bottle opener to uncork the wine and poured herself a healthy glass of red. This was nuts. How was she going to do this for half a year? “So I suppose I need to make a key for you. And you are free to come and go as you please, you know. No need to feel like you have to check in with me. I don’t want to . . . interrupt your life.”

Rhett pushed his chair back and stood up, and when he came toward her, Shawn shivered in anticipation. She had a feeling he was going to pull her dress down and suck her nipple, which was really a perfect way to kick off any dinner, wasn’t it? But he actually walked right past her and stared at her, expression curious, as he yanked open the fridge and rooted around, before emerging with a beer.

“Is that what you would like? For us to be roommates, accidentally sharing the same space?” He shook the beer. “Should we have separate shelves for our food and take turns supplying the toilet paper?”

When he said it like that, it wasn’t particularly attractive-sounding. “I’m trying to be accommodating.”

“Let’s not make rules. Let’s not stress out. Let’s just feel our way through it.” He popped open the beer with his bare hand, no bottle opener needed, apparently. “Now come sit down and enjoy the dinner you were so wonderful to make.”

What the hell was she supposed to say to that? He really left her very few options. She was just going to have to relax and behave like they were friends. It was maddening. Confusing. Because now she really had no idea whatsoever what it was she wanted. Did she want to sleep with him? Did she want him to go away? Did she want to sleep with him, then have him go away?

Good question.

She had no choice but to sit down and eat her meat. The answers would come later or never. Much like her.

The interesting thing was that Rhett was an easy conversationalist. She wouldn’t have expected that. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like the guy could smolder 24/7. At some point he had to make conversation. Presumably.

Which again made her feel at some sort of disadvantage. So he could toss out sexual comments and invade her personal space and then switch gears and talk casually about the weather and tell anecdotes about his family. It left her no way in which to gain the upper hand.

Though he almost never laughed. Maybe instead of trying to play a sexual cat-and-mouse game by wearing a sexy dress—a game she would most definitely lose—she could disarm him by making him laugh.

Shawn mentally eye-rolled herself. What was she going to do, dress like a clown? Do stand-up? So a priest, a driver, and a parrot all went into a bar. He’d think she was a freak.

She was starting to worry she was.

She was also full. Pushing her plate back, she said, “When I was a kid I always wanted a huge family. I felt sort of ripped off that it was just my mom, Will, and me. At the very least I wanted a sister.” Truthfully, what Shawn had wanted was some attention, any attention. Her mom had checked out emotionally the day her dad had left physically.

“You can borrow one of mine if you like. Seven sisters is a bit excessive.” Rhett had eaten everything on his plate, including the potato skin.

“They’re going to hate me, aren’t they? For ‘eloping’ with you?” Not that it mattered, since it wasn’t a real marriage, but hey, Shawn liked to be liked.

“I doubt my sisters will care. They just want me happy. Frankly, they’ll appreciate not having their kids dragged into a wedding as flower girls and ring bearers and whatever.”

“How many nieces and nephews do you have?”

“Fourteen. No, fifteen.” Rhett frowned. “Wait. Then Owen was born. Sixteen?” He started murmuring names and counting on his fingers. Finally he said, “Hell if I know. You’d have to ask my mom.”

Shawn couldn’t even imagine having a family that big. “I’m surprised someone doesn’t go missing on a regular basis. That’s a lot of kids to keep track of.”

“Once when I was five, my parents left me home by accident. They took two cars to go to my grandma’s house, and both thought the other one had me in their car. I was in my room getting my Power Ranger to take with me, and when I came out, the house was empty.” He gave a wry look. “It was my Home Alone moment. Thank God they just went down the road, not to France.”

“Were you upset? Did you cry?”

“No. I watched TV and ate chips, grateful for the silence. When the phone rang, I answered ‘Ford Residence,’ feeling pretty badass about the whole thing. It was my mom, and she burst into tears and told me to lock the front door, that they were on their way home.”

“Aw, your poor mom. I can only imagine how worried she was.”

It wasn’t hard to picture Rhett as a solemn, curious child, watching everyone, not reacting with any fear. In total control of his emotions.