Erin McCarthy - Full Throttle

She met his gaze steadily, her hands snaking up to wrap around his neck. He was tall, but so was she, and while he had to bend down to make eye contact, it wasn’t significant. Her eyes were an amber color, and they were shining with amusement and, if he wasn’t mistaken, attraction. As they swayed, his hands lightly on her trim waist, he gave her a slow smile.

“So what brings you here?” he asked her.

Her response wasn’t flirtatious, nor was it cryptic. It was just matter-of-fact. “Information.”

“Are you a reporter? A blogger?”

“No. We’re four women who like to be right. This is my friends’ attempt to prove me wrong.”

Interesting. Bored housewives? He couldn’t check her ring finger to see if she was married, but then again, if she was looking for a good time, she would take her ring off anyway. If she was, he would be disappointed. Married women weren’t his thing. He was loyal and committed to a single woman at a time, and he had no desire to serve as an itch scratcher for a restless spouse.

“How so?”

“I didn’t think people came to places like this. Apparently they do.” She gave him a wry smile. “So why are you here?”

He had no problem being honest. Another lesson hard learned. He needed to be up-front about his desires. “I’m looking for the right woman for me. One who likes to be led in bed.”

She gave a little laugh. “Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“Uh-huh.”

Rhett wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. He did know he was turned on. There was something very compelling about the way she never broke eye contact. What could be hotter than a woman submitting to his desires but doing so out of titillation, boldly? Nothing, as far as he was concerned. But he was getting ahead of himself. Which was evidenced by her dropping her arms to halt his creeping progress lower and lower on her back. He was at the curve of her ass when she reprimanded him, gripping his hand to stop it.

“Hey now, sport, watch the sticky fingers.”

Rhett grinned. “Don’t you mean wandering hands? I’m not trying to steal your wallet.”

“Whatever,” she said dismissively. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” He kept his hands far above the erogenous zone, wanting to respect her limits. “So give me your number.” The song was almost over, and who knew what would be played next. She might use a booty-grinding song as an opportunity to leave the floor and return to her girlfriends. He didn’t want to waste time.

Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“You never get what you want if you don’t ask.”

“How old are you?” she asked suddenly, putting more space between them as they swayed to the bass pumping R&B.

So that was it. She was older than him. “Old enough to know what I want.”

“You’re younger than me.” It wasn’t a question. She seemed certain of it.

“Frankly, Scarlett, I don’t give a damn.” Might as well make his stupid name work for him.

She gave a short laugh, smiling at him. “Nice. Corny, but effective. What’s your real name, by the way? I only give my number to Clark Kent, not Superman.”

He liked the sound of that. She was going to cough up her phone number, and he was suddenly glad she’d shifted away slightly because he was getting hard. There was something about her that he found seriously arousing, and she didn’t seem intimidated by what he’d told her, which further turned him on. “It really is Rhett.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed her face.

But before he could pull out his driver’s license and prove it, her friend approached them. “Shawn!” she said, urgently.

So her name was Shawn. It suited her. Unusual, unique. The tomboy who grew up to be a sexy woman. Or so he would guess, given the muscle tone of her waist and arms, and the perky lift of her backside. This girl liked sports, or at least the gym.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we need to leave. Emergency. Let’s go, now.”

Shawn stopped moving to the music entirely and dropped her hands to her sides. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. We just have to go. Come on.” The blonde wouldn’t look at him at all, and when there was a hesitation on Shawn’s part, she actually took her friend’s hand and pulled her away.

“Wait,” Rhett said. “I still want your number.”

But to his disappointment, Shawn just gave him an apologetic smile and a wave. “Nice to meet you,” she said, as she was dragged away.

Rhett was left standing on the dance floor having a whole hell of a lot of sympathy for Prince Charming when he’d been ditched. But unlike Cinderella, Shawn didn’t leave any clues behind.

“WHAT is going on?” Shawn asked Charity, fighting the urge to glance back at the hot hunk of man flesh she’d left on the dance floor. Despite ticking her off a little with his refusal to give a real name, she had to admit, her interest was peaked. Along with her nipples.

“We have to go because of that guy you were talking to.”

“What? Why? And where are Eve and Harley? And stop yanking on me. You’re going to pull my arm out of the socket.” Shawn followed Charity out the front door, the cold February air hitting her with a smack as she pulled on her coat that Charity shoved at her.

Eve was pacing to the left of the door, looking anxious. She darted her eyes behind Shawn. “He didn’t follow you, did he?”

“No. Why would he follow me? And what is the big deal about that guy?” Had Eve seen him on America’s Most Wanted? Was he a Gone with the Wind–inspired serial killer? First he dressed you in drapes, then he threw you down the stairs?

As they started walking toward the car, Eve said, “That was my brother-in-law. When I came back from the restroom, I saw you with him. There was no way I could let him see me there. And there was no way I wanted him to know I saw him there.”

“Your brother-in-law? You mean, like, Nolan’s brother?” She could see how that would be more than a little awkward for Eve. It wasn’t just the corner pub they’d been in.

“Yes.” Eve beeped open her SUV and they all climbed in. She turned toward Shawn in the backseat and gave a snort of laughter. “Nolan’s little brother, Rhett.”

“That guy’s name is really Rhett?” she asked in amazement. Now she felt like a jerk for doubting it. “I thought he was making that up!”

“No, it’s really his name. He’s twenty-five years old and he’s in a sex club. Oh, my God, how am I going to look him in the face?”

“Twenty-five?” Shawn squawked, horrified. “Good Lord, he’s a fetus!” Who she had been contemplating pursuing so she could get a serious look at him naked. Her cheeks burned. “He looked older than twenty-five. He looked too hot to be that young. And I thought Nolan’s little brother was well, little. It never, ever occurred to me that the fake Rhett could be the real Rhett. You always talk about him like he’s seventeen.”

“To me, he might as well be. He’s Nolan’s little brother! What the hell was he doing there?” Eve asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

Oh, Shawn had a funny feeling she knew exactly what he was looking for. She might not be particularly knowledgeable about the lifestyle, but she could pick up on a clue or two. “I think he was a Dom looking for a submissive,” she said, not at all sure how she felt about any of this.

“What?” Eve said, moaning. “Oh, shit, I’m going to die. I do not want to picture that. God!”

“I should have let you give him your number,” Charity said ruefully from the front passenger seat. “But I panicked.”

Still stunned, Shawn murmured, “I told him my name was Scarlett. I thought he was giving me a code name.”

As Eve cruised to a stop at a red light, they all looked at one another and burst out laughing.

“So what are we reading next month?” Harley asked.

Shawn figured it could only be a letdown after this selection. She settled back into her seat, shivering, and tried not to think about a certain guy who was too young for her, with the most intense green eyes she’d ever seen in her life.

It worked for about three whole seconds.

RHETT swiped a handful of nuts from the crystal bowl on the coffee table as he stepped over three of his nieces coloring on the floor, the smell of his mother’s enormous Sunday dinner cooking in her kitchen. Frowning, he searched the crowded room for his sister-in-law, Eve, wanting to discuss the plans they had going for the upcoming racing season.

But he had the distinct feeling that she was avoiding him today for some reason. Every time he got close to her, she disappeared, and other than a quick wave and a half smile, she hadn’t made eye contact with him once. It was weird.

A wail sounded from the carpet, and he realized that he had stepped on Georgia’s yellow crayon and snapped it in two. His niece was only three, and frequently at the mercy of her older siblings. Being the youngest of nine kids himself, Rhett sympathized with her.

Immediately, her older sister Jessa started mocking her. “Stop being a baby. Baby, baby, cry baby.”

“I’m not a baby!” Georgia’s face was red, her eyes and nose leaking fluid. Rhett bent down and scooped her up under his arm, slinging her back and forth.

“Sorry, G. My fault. I’m sure there is another Macaroni and Cheese crayon in this house somewhere.”

Tears trickled off into giggles.

He gave Jessa a look of reprimand. “Be nice. You don’t like your stuff getting broken either.”

Hearing his niece’s laughter usually made him smile, but he felt off today. Having a hell of a time falling asleep last night after going to The Wet Spot, he had woken up with a start and a giant boner that morning. He had dreamed of the woman from the club, Scarlett, aka Shawn. It was likely she’d never show up there again, and while her first name was unusual, without a last name or any information about her at all, he had no way to locate her. It was a huge downer because there was something about her that had gotten under his skin. Or at the very least, in his pants. He wanted her, and knowing he would never get her made him grumpy.