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Caught staring, Breely’s cheeks flooded with heat. “I’m fine,” she said and scurried into the bathroom, closed the door and leaned against it, trying to remember how to breathe.
Not wanting to hog all the time in the bathroom, she pushed away from the door, reached in and turned on the shower, adjusting the water temperature to a little more than lukewarm.
A cool shower should help to tamp the flames threatening to overwhelm her.
She’d hoped that getting to know Moe would help to establish a solid friendship. Lord knew she needed friends. Especially one with the kind of skills he possessed.
Getting to know him had blown past friendship to something grittier. Something that made her blood burn so hot that heat coiled low in her belly.
Breely couldn’t remember being this attracted to the cowboy whom she now had difficulty recalling his name.
She untied the knot in the T-shirt’s hem and slipped it over her head, hanging it on the hook on the back of the door. Her bra followed, joining the T-shirt on the hook. After unbuttoning her jean skirt, she dropped it to the floor and kicked it aside.
She stepped into the shower, still wearing her panties, the only pair she had in her possession. Filling her hand with shampoo from a dispenser on the wall, she rubbed the soap into her hair, building up a good lather. The soap bubbles dripped off her hair onto her shoulders and over her breasts.
What would it feel like to shower with a man? In particular, the one lying on the bed in the other room? Hadn’t they toasted to new experiences? That would be new to Breely.
Her nipples hardened into tight little nubs, soap and water dripping off the tips. She reached up and pinched them, imagining Moe’s strong hands in place of her own.
A moan escaped her lips before she could stop it. She tweaked her nipples and massaged her breasts with her palms, loving how it felt, knowing it would feel so much better with Moe’s hands. Hands that had held hers as they’d walked along the streets of downtown Denver.
She let her hands drift lower, passing her ribs, skimming over her belly button and coming to a halt at the apex of her thighs. Did she dare pleasure herself? She’d managed to bring herself to orgasms before, which took time and patience. If she did commit, her promise to be quick in the bathroom would be at risk.
Her lady parts clenched and released, a silent plea to go there.
First things first.
She drew in a deep breath, the motion raising her breasts to the spray. As she released the breath, she slid her panties down her thighs and past her ankles. Holding them up to the spray, she rubbed shampoo into the fabric and scrubbed them clean, rinsed and draped them over the curtain rod.
Hopefully, they’d dry by morning. In the meantime, she had only a few minutes to play.
Breely slid her hands over her breasts and down to her sex, sliding her fingers between her folds. When she touched her clit, she sucked in a sharp breath, electrical shocks rippling through her.
Wow. She was on fire. The slightest touch stoked the flames higher.
With the tip of her finger, she flicked the nubbin ever so softly.
More sensations followed the first. Her channel tightened with a delicious ache she couldn’t satisfy on her own. But hell, she was willing to try.
Flicking her clit turned to swirling motions, her finger moving faster and faster.
She turned her back to the shower spray and propped her leg on the tile bench, opening herself to more exploration. While one hand worked the nubbin, she slid two fingers on the other hand into her slick channel.
Faster and faster, she stroked herself. Tension built, and her muscles tightened until that tingling sensation exploded at her center and spread throughout her body.
Her hips rocked with the force of her release as she milked the orgasm to the very last spasm.
She wasn’t sure, but she might have moaned a few times. Yes, she’d managed to coax her own pleasurable release, but her body demanded more. Her channel throbbed, unfulfilled, empty and wanting.
Breely turned the water colder until she shivered and shut it off. Her skin was chilled, though she’d never been hotter inside.
The one thing that would satisfy her needs lay on the other side of the wall. All she had to do was ask him to make love to her.
He could say no.
Hadn’t he said she wasn’t his type?
Breely toweled dry, brushed the tangles from her wet hair and stood at the door. Should she step out naked and ask Moe to make love to her, or pull on his T-shirt, crawl into the little chair and try to sleep?
