Full Throttle (Fast Track) (15 page)

Shawn almost laughed. Almost. Because she was still annoyed about the tattoo ten years after the fact, she didn’t. “It’s your fault we have such bad ink, you know. I’m never going to admit otherwise.”

“It’s your fault, too!” Eve protested. “You started it by egging me on about coming in last at the fair when I entered a shooting contest and slipped on a discarded onion ring and shot the light out.”

“Yeah, then you told me that the only way I was going to get a guy between my thighs was if I tattooed one there. And that Stoney White, who you know I had a massive crush on, had called me lanky and had mimicked a pelican walking. That was bullshit.”

“I did you a favor. Stoney White was a loser. His name was Stoney, for Chrissake. Plus I didn’t make you take that car bomb. Or the second. You were bound and determined to prove to Stoney that you could do a shot of whiskey in thirty seconds.”

Huh. Perhaps she hadn’t matured as much as she thought in the last decade. It seemed her seduction techniques had not improved. “Well, I could. It wasn’t just bragging. I still can, you know.”

“And I still have a tattoo on my inner thigh that says ‘Open 24 hours.’ ”

Shawn grinned. “That was a beautiful night, wasn’t it? We were such idiots, but damn, we always had fun.” She wondered why Rhett hadn’t said anything about her tattoo. He had certainly been down between her thighs, so he had to have seen it. Most men burst out laughing the first time they got a glimpse of it.

Eve laughed. “Maybe a little too much fun.”

“Nah. Truth is, we let too much fun slip away from us. We grew up and both became workaholics.”

“I’ve been working on a better balance myself. Nolan helps. How about you? Seriously, not to sound like your mother—or rather like anyone’s mother but yours—how is it going? You still haven’t answered that question.”

“It’s intense,” she admitted, much preferring to be as honest as she could without having to lie to her best friend. “It’s hot, it’s sexy, it’s new, it’s an adjustment. But it’s good. For real. No worrying about me.” She would worry about herself a shit ton, so no need for someone else to get in on the action and stress themselves out.

Eve studied her for a minute. “Okay. Cool. I won’t get in your business anymore. You know you can talk to me about anything, and it won’t matter that Rhett is Nolan’s brother. I’m a steel trap.”

“Unless we’re going head-to-head. Then you’ll spill every secret I have if it will throw me off my game.”

“That is not true,” Eve protested. Then she grinned. “Much. But you know I’ll only tell embarrassing secrets, not painful ones.”

“Thanks for the distinction. But I can’t exactly bitch you out, because I’m the same way. It’s ultimately why we get along.”

“Alright, let’s go get laid.” Eve fist-bumped her. “To the power of the V. And whiskey. And shitty tattoos.”

“To finishing first. And friendship. To the Brothers Ford.”

“Amen, sister.”

That was as warm and fuzzy as she and Eve were ever going to get. They were essentially guys with vaginas. But they had both come to terms with who they were years ago.

“I think this was our middle school fantasy, you know, to marry brothers,” Eve said with a laugh as she headed back down the hall.

Unfortunately, it was still a fantasy.

Shawn fought the urge to sigh.

“So I have to ask . . . is he kinky?” Eve said, looking both super curious and super horrified. “Does he have . . . contraptions?”

“I am not talking to you about that other than to say there are no contraptions.” Good Lord. She didn’t even want to consider what Eve was envisioning.

“So he’s kinky.” Her eyes sparkled and she gave a choking laugh. “Shawn, if only Stoney White had known you have a penchant for kink, he could have been all yours. In all his idiotic meathead glory.”

“Shut up, Eve,” was her opinion on that.

Eve just laughed harder.

 • • • 

“I
can keep my clothes and stuff in the guest room,” Rhett said as he surveyed the space, or lack thereof, in Shawn’s bedroom. She wasn’t a housekeeper to his mother’s standards, that was for sure, and she had odd things propped in the corners of her bedroom, like a large stuffed gorilla and a hunting rifle, which didn’t contain bullets. He’d checked when she was in the bathroom.

“No, it’s okay. I can clear some space in the closet for you,” she said. Which she promptly did by shoving her clothes to the right until hangers were jammed out at awkward angles and her sweaters looked like they were choking one another. Then she ripped a black-and-white dress off the hanger and balled it up and tossed it on the floor of the closet. “I hate that dress. It makes my ass look big.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he said wryly as he pulled clothes out of his box and hung them up in the three point five inches of space she’d given him. He was no neat freak himself, so he couldn’t say the chaos of her closet and bedroom bothered him. He just wasn’t sure he was ever going to find a clean shirt again.

“So I have a question for you.” It was something he hadn’t wanted to ask in the intimacy of bed, because he had a feeling it was going to embarrass her or make her laugh.

“Yeah? What?”

“Why do you have the face of a little boy with curly hair tattooed on your inner thigh?” He had to admit, it had given him a start the other night, but he had managed to ignore it. Now it was generating a lot of curiosity. He couldn’t figure out what crazy story was behind it, and he knew there had to be one.

Shawn made a face. “It’s not a little boy! It’s Justin Timberlake, back in the day when his hair looked like a chia pet.”

“Really? Okay, so why would you tattoo a portrait of him diving into your vagina? Any particular reason?”

“It was a bet, and no, I’m not going to tell you the full story. Let’s just say that Eve didn’t fare any better than I did.”

Rhett raised his eyebrows. He didn’t even want to consider what was between his sister-in-law’s thighs.

“I’ve thought about getting it removed but it’s expensive, time-consuming, and painful.”

“You could cover it with another tattoo. The right artist could make JT disappear.”

“Yeah.” She gave a noncommittal shrug. “It is kind of fun to see the reaction of the gyno when I get my Pap test, but I have gotten some negative reactions from former boyfriends. That’s probably why I keep it.”

Rhett laughed. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“Now that I think about it, you’re the first guy ever who didn’t stop and ask me about it.” She looked over at him, curious. “But you obviously saw it.”

It was his turn to shrug, pleased that she had made the distinction. It had been a conscious choice to ignore that silly tattoo in the heat of the moment. “It wasn’t worthy of my attention right then. The only thing worthy of my attention was you.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat.

Rhett put his baseball bat and glove in the corner. He didn’t play much these days, but back in high school he’d loved cracking that bat against a ball. He didn’t want to part with the option that he could play a ball game for fun.

“What’s with the gorilla?” he asked, because as he studied it, he realized he and Shawn had gotten busy the other night with the big lug watching them. He wasn’t sure how he had missed it in the first place, but now that he’d noticed, he didn’t like it. The gorilla had a creepy smile, and Rhett had seen enough horror movies to dislike it.

“I won it for selling a crapload of Girl Scout cookies. I had to win it, you know, once I saw him in the prize brochure. He was calling my name.” Shawn bent over the dresser, yanking open a drawer and pulling out socks, which she dumped on the bed. “His name is Coconut.”

“He has a name?”

“Of course.”

“Can we, uh, turn him to the wall while we sleep? I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.” Rhett decided he didn’t want his baseball bat next to Coconut. He moved it next to the bed, where he could easily access it.

“Are you serious?” Shawn blew her hair out of her eyes as she finished emptying the drawer and closing it again. She then opened the one below it, stuffing the socks back into it, ignoring the fact that there wasn’t really any room for them. “Does the gorilla actually bother you?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t going to lie about it. “He’s fucking creepy. I don’t need him staring at me while I sleep.”

“He’s not real,” Shawn said with a grin, trying to shove the overstuffed drawer closed. It only made it halfway. “He’s a stuffed animal.”

“I know. That’s why he’s creepy. Why does anyone need to make something so realistic-looking as a stuffed toy? I don’t like it.” It was like some of the dolls his sisters had played with as kids. They were freakish in their attempt to look like real babies. It had disturbed him then, and it disturbed him now.

Shawn laughed. “Okay, then. I never would have guessed you had a secret fear of stuffed animals.”

“It’s not fear.” Why was she failing to see the distinction here? “It’s like seeing someone have their fingernails pulled out. It’s disturbing.”

“How would you know what it looks like to see someone’s fingernails pulled out? Do you have a secret past as a terrorist interrogator?”

She was lucky he found her so cute. “Yes. So don’t piss me off.”

“Did you just make a joke?” Her eyes lit up in delight, and she laughed. “I love it. And don’t threaten me, Ford. I’ll sic my monkey on you.”

He walked toward her and was amused to see her back up against the dresser, darting her gaze around for an escape route. “Gorillas aren’t monkeys, and who is threatening who?”

All he had to do was reach his arm out for her, and she shrieked and tried to rush past him. Laughing, he didn’t find it a particular challenge to halt her progress. Despite her athletic strength, he was happy to say she was no match for him. “Where are you going?”

“I have to, uh, put the grounds in the coffeemaker for tomorrow morning.” She wiggled in his hold. “Let me go, you oaf.”

“Oaf? Okay, Gran, I’ll let you go.” Rhett was amused by Shawn, by their banter, by how comfortable he felt around her. He was also aroused by the way she was willing to tease him, the way she didn’t cower and back down, the way other women had with him.

“Gran?” she asked indignantly. “Is that a cougar slur?”

“No.” He grinned at her, pulling her tight against his chest so she would quit squirming. “I actually forgot you’re a cougar. Though I’m not sure you qualify since I initially approached you.”

“Well, I did ask you to marry me in exchange for money, so I think that makes me a model cougar.” Her expression was wry, but she did stop struggling.

“For totally different reasons. Not because you couldn’t score me all on your own. Because you could have. I would have been eager and willing.” He leaned forward and bit her bottom lip, just to hear her expression of shock and the follow-up sigh of pleasure.

“Really?”

“Really. And I’m eager and willing right now to make you scream with pleasure.” Rhett rested his hand on her waist and pulled her hard against his erection. “Now you have four minutes to deal with the coffeemaker and get back here.”

Her eyes darkened and her voice was husky. “Oh, yeah? What happens if I don’t?”

“I’ll come into the kitchen and I’ll punish you for making me wait.” His heart started to pump quicker at the thought of what he could do to Shawn, at how amazing it would feel to bury his cock inside her wet and willing pussy. His blood thickened, and saliva filled his mouth.

“You’ll spank me again?” she asked, and she sounded titillated by the idea.

Rhett shook his head, because it was important to keep her guessing, to maintain the control. “Probably not. You’ll never know what your punishment is until I hand it out. It could be anything.”

Her response was a low sound in the back of her throat. But then she disarmed him by kissing him sweetly and saying, “My time starts when you let me go.”

Holy shit, she was so hot it made his body ache in ways he hadn’t known were possible. Rhett released her and stepped back. “Go.”

She moved quickly to the door, not pausing to look back. Rhett checked the time on his phone. He wasn’t sure if he would actually hold her to the four minutes or not. But he didn’t think he would have to make that decision because Shawn was too competitive to miss the mark.

Waiting for her, he stripped off his sweatshirt and the tee beneath it and tossed them over Coconut’s face. He took his watch off and set it on the nightstand. He knew a lot of guys had quit wearing watches, but he liked the feel of it on his wrist. But not when he was going to be sliding his hands over every inch of Shawn’s body. He was cracking his neck, taking his chin in both hands and twisting it left, then right, when Shawn returned.

“Are you limbering up?” she asked, with a small smile. She was slightly out of breath from her efficiency.

Rhett glanced at his phone. “Three minutes. Impressive.” He didn’t answer her question, because he didn’t need to. “Good job.”

“Thanks.” Her gaze raked over his chest, his abs. “Do I get a reward?”

He should have known she would take it to that conclusion. It was her personality. Shaking his head, he told her, “No. Your reward is not being punished.”

Her lips parted, her eyes flashing with something close to irritation, and he waited for her to protest. It would be logical for her to protest, given Shawn’s need for control.

But she didn’t, and that was by far the sexiest response she could ever give him. “So what should I do?” Her hands were fiddling with the bottom of her sweater, like she wanted to strip it off and dive onto him. It was there in her expression. She wanted to take charge, shove him back on the bed, and climb on and ride him to a fast orgasm.

Efficient.

Get off and get on with it.

That’s the sex life Shawn had experienced before him. But Rhett wanted more than that. He wanted submersion, loss of control, total capitulation to the pleasure between them . . . the kind of pleasure where she forgot her name, what day of the week it was, or where she was.

So the erotic dance had to start where it had the night they’d met, with his hand taking hers and guiding her onto the dance floor. “You dance with me.”