Full Throttle (Fast Track) (11 page)

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.”

Shawn blinked, both at that image and at the uncertainty as to why her friend was pushing past her into the living room on a Sunday morning. Charity wasn’t exactly known as a morning person.

“We were at the side door, but for some reason the doorknob is locked, so we couldn’t get in. You never lock your door.”

“Rhett must have locked it,” she said, running her hands through her damp hair. “He left for work and he doesn’t have a key yet.”

Talk about it like it was normal. Make it normal.

Charity grinned. “Dude, you’re insane, do you know that? I never thought you had it in you.”

Harley looked more worried than anything else as she closed the front door behind them, the blustery February wind cutting through Shawn. She wanted coffee and a pair of socks. “So what brings you two by today? Do you want some coffee?”

“We’re here to help you plan your wedding party, remember? We made plans yesterday.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right.” She had totally forgotten about Harley’s offer to help with her fake Valentine’s Day love-fest celebration. Gag. “My brain is fried.”

“You’re probably running on no sleep. I’m surprised you can actually walk after two nights of Mr. Wet Spot.” Charity flopped on her sofa.

Shawn tried not to blush, but it was an epic failure. “So how do we plan a wedding party? Not that I really want a wedding party, but I’m sure Rhett’s mother already hates me, so I don’t want to make it worse. He said she’ll be hurt if we don’t have a party.”

“You have to have a party of some sort,” Charity told her. “Come on. How many times do you get married? Twice, maybe three times tops. The very first one at least should warrant a little boogying down.”

“I think this is it for me,” Shawn said truthfully. There was no way she wanted to do this again once she and Rhett got their divorce a year from now. Then again, when would this bizarre set of circumstances ever present themselves again? “I’m putting some coffee on.”

“The whole house smells like coffee already,” Harley said, following her into the kitchen. “Do you have an automatic coffeemaker?”

“No.” But she had a
husband
. Who in addition to giving her three orgasms, left hot coffee in two thermoses on the kitchen counter, a note next to them.

“Hot coffee for you. XO R”

XO
? Hugs and kisses? Shawn studied the scrawl of his handwriting and tried to interpret the meaning behind it. He hadn’t known there would be anyone there to witness the note, so why would he write that?

Her head hurt. Her chest hurt. Her cooter hurt.

If this was marriage, it blew donkey balls.

“Ah, that’s so sweet,” was Harley’s opinion.

Donkey balls were sweet?

Oh, she meant the note. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Because that’s what she was supposed to say. And it was sweet. How could she argue that it wasn’t?

“Do you ever wonder if Rhett has an ulterior motive?” Charity asked, joining them in the small kitchen.

“Charity!” Her twin squawked, clearly appalled. “It’s a love-at-first-sight thing! It happens!”

Probably not, but the truth was a lot less shiny.

“What kind of ulterior motive could he possibly have?” Shawn asked Charity, actually feeling a little insulted. How nice to hear that her friend thought no guy would fall head over ass for her.

“Maybe he thinks the track is worth more than it is. Maybe he’s after money and sponsorships.” Charity shrugged. “I’m not trying to be a dick, but you have to admit, this is just cray-cray. Totally out of left field for you.”

“He signed a prenup before we got married on Friday. He can’t touch the track. He doesn’t get anything.” Except the hundred grand she’d promised him. “Don’t be so cynical. Maybe I was just ready.”

“Ready for what? To marry the first guy who asked you?”

“Charity . . .” Harley said in a soft voice, the warning clear.

Shawn felt herself bristling, but she beat it back. The truth was, if either of the twins had done what she just had, she would be concerned herself. However, she suspected she would be a bit more tactful than suggesting a man had married her for money. Or that she was so desperate she’d grab the first male to show interest and get hitched.

“Seriously, Charity, I’m going to pretend that what you just said wasn’t nearly as rude as it sounded. I think it is possible that I’m smart enough not to just marry any man who asks me. If I wasn’t, I would have eloped at fourteen with Bryan Johnson when he told me he’d marry me if I blew him.”

“Was that what Rhett offered?” Harley said, in a rare comedic moment for her.

Shawn laughed. “Something like that.”

“Wait, you blew Bryan Johnson?”

“No! That is not what I meant!” Shawn went into the cupboard for a mug. She clearly needed her coffee. Now. “I wasn’t blowing anyone at fourteen.” In fact, she wasn’t blowing anyone now. That had not entered into their bed sport the night before, which Shawn found curious. In her experience, men were forever trying to wave their pecker in her face, and yet Rhett hadn’t at all. He had spent the majority of the night focusing on her.

Hmm. That was interesting.

“So how many people are coming to the party?” Harley asked, leaning on the counter as Shawn unscrewed one of the thermoses.

Good question. “Well, Rhett has seven sisters and a brother, plus all their spouses.” Though, truthfully, she had no idea if they all lived in the Charlotte area or not. “Plus sixteen nieces and nephews. His parents. My mom and my brother and his wife. You two. Debbie, Linda, and John, who have all been working at the track for years. Rhett’s fellow crew members. How many is that?”

“I think we’re at forty-seven,” Harley said.

“Holy crap.” Shawn poured coffee into a mug that read “If only Mondays were as easy as I am.” The mug had been funnier a week ago, she had to admit. “That’s a lot of people for a small party.”

“You always wanted a big family,” Charity said. “It looks like you have one now.”

Except it wasn’t real. Shawn bit her lip and took a sip. She realized that someone was knocking on the side door. “Okay, now who is that? Eve is at the track today, so it can’t be her.”

“I’ll get it,” Harley offered. The minute she opened the door, a gust of wind and an older woman rushed in.

Arms instantly enveloped Harley. “Honey, it’s so good to meet you. I’m your momma-in-law.”

Oh, God.

Harley automatically hugged her back as Rhett’s mother continued, “Now I can’t say I’m thrilled that you got married so suddenlike and at the courthouse, but you know what? I say who cares when what really matters is that my youngest has found the right woman for him.” She pulled back. “Let me look at you, Shawn. Oh, you’re just too cute. Exactly Rhett’s type.”

Shawn coughed, not sure whether to be amused or offended. Harley sputtered a little, her head shaking.

“Oh, I’m not Shawn.”

“I am,” Shawn volunteered, raising her hand a little and really wishing she were wearing a bra. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Ford.”

“Oh.” Rhett’s mother swung her view from Harley to her. “You’re Shawn?” she asked, incredulous. “Oh, goodness, well, of course. It’s just you’re not Rhett’s usual type.” Then she laughed. “Of course, he didn’t marry any of those girls, did he?”

Shawn laughed weakly. Except that he hadn’t intended to marry her either until she’d offered him money. So girls like Harley were normally his type, huh? Petite, blond, natural-looking. Clearly sweet, clearly passive. Unlike her. She was tall, her figure more athletic than traditionally feminine, her hair a low-maintenance, tousled shoulder-length mess. She couldn’t be bothered to flat-iron it or curl it. Or really even cut it all that often. Nor was she particularly passive. At least, not generally speaking.

The memory of Rhett spanking her popped into her head and she shoved it aside. So she’d been passive in bed. What of it?

She was not going to feel inadequate because she was independent and something of an adult tomboy. Hadn’t she come to terms with that self-esteem crap twenty years ago?

So she moved away from the counter and toward Rhett’s mother. “Come in, come in. Let me take your coat.”

“Oh, thanks, hon.”

Shawn found herself enveloped in a hug before being handed a basket. “I brought you some muffins. I know, it’s not much, but I didn’t have a lot of notice.” She wagged her finger at Shawn and gave her a rueful look.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ford.” Shawn took the basket and set it on the counter.

“Oh, Lord, call me Sandy. Technically, we’re both Mrs. Ford now.”

Oh, God, she was, wasn’t she? Wait. She didn’t have to change her name. That would be stupid, because then she’d just have to change it back in a year. She was still Shawn Hamby and always would be. Feeling a profound sense of relief, she gestured to her friends. “This is Harley and Charity. They’re here to help with planning the wedding party.”