Sibyll stood in front of the full-length bathroom mirror, staring at the red markings all over her. Breasts, belly, hips. Hugh had claimed her.
Don’t give up on me,he’d said, as if the failure was his.
Her eyes filled with tears, which she was not about to let fall. She’d come here for a reason—to pulsate, contract, throb, shatter, whatever people called it. Last night with her Boot Knocker she’d been so close. He’d taken her to unimaginable heights, but right before her body unraveled, her brain had kicked in.
Her psyche had fed her screams of doubt. So Hugh had flipped her over and began working her from behind. Sibyll curled her toes into the cool bathroom tile at the memory. He’d whipped her into a frenzy, dragged her to the pinnacle, where she’d teetered.
And then slid backward down the slope as self-doubt crept in again.
Maybe she was hopeless.
With a disgusted snort, she twisted the shower knob and set the water as hot as she could stand. Some of the places Hugh had kissed felt sensitive under the spray—in particular, her neck. He’d kissed her there a lot.
Several little bottles of shower gel were lined up on a shelf, ranging from raspberry to vanilla to floral. At home she usually chose something fresh and rain-scented. But she couldn’t help but wish for that bar of cheap hotel soap she’d used the day before. The one Hugh had commented on.
She shivered. Did he sniff and tantalize every woman as thoroughly as he had her? He’d chosen her, had fought two other cowboys for her.
In the back of her head, a voice asked if either of those other guys would have given her an orgasm last night.
Her stomach dipped with guilt. In some strange way she felt an allegiance to Hugh. He’d given her more than any man in her life, and she hoped he could finish the job. But his ragged plea: Don’t give up on me had really bound her to him. Even if she hadn’t come by her sixth day on the ranch, she’d still let Hugh try.
Sibyll twisted away from the spray and squeezed some hibiscus shower gel into her palm. The scents weren’t so strong that she smelled like an old lady, at least.
After she was lathered, she leaned against the wall and ran her hands over her body. Prodding the sensitive areas brought Hugh to mind.
Who am I kidding? He’s all I’m able to think about.
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