Chapter 6
Breely toed off her shoes, then collected her brush and toiletries kit. “If you don’t mind, I’ll jump in the shower first. I don’t take long, and I promise not to use all the hot water.”
“Go for it,” he said and stretched out on the bed, folding his arms behind his head. “Wake me up when you’re done.”
Her heart throbbed at the sight of Moe, his black T-shirt with the black denim jeans, lying against the snowy white duvet cover, a strand of his black hair falling over his forehead.
Breely longed to reach out and brush the strand back and drop a kiss on his lips.
Her breath caught and held.
What was she thinking?
That she was alone in a hotel room with a sexy man who’d vowed to leave her alone.
Unless she asked him to do otherwise.
One of his blue eyes opened. “Are you okay?”
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?
The cool air made her shiver. Breely lost her nerve and pulled the shirt over her head. She cast a glance at the damp panties and shook her head. Commando, it was!
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the bathroom and crossed to the bed. When she wanted to ask him to make love to her, different words came out of her mouth. “Your turn.”
“Thanks.” Moe rose from the bed, grabbed his shaving kit and entered the bathroom.
Breely grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the closet and dropped them on the small chair in the corner. Her back hurt just looking at the seat that had only enough room to sit, not stretch out or drape her legs over the arms.
Still, she wasn’t going to deprive Moe of the bed he’d paid for. The man had to fly the next day and needed a good night’s sleep.
With every movement, the T-shirt fabric brushed against her bare bottom, reminding her she was damned close to being naked. All Moe had to do was raise the hem. Nothing stood in the way should he decide to take her up on an offer.
If she made the offer and asked him to make love to her.
How embarrassing would it be if he declined to participate?
Worth every second of angst if he agreed. She could survive the rejection. What she couldn’t live with was regret for not even putting herself out there. She’d escaped home and come this far.
Why stop now?
Because she was a chicken with zero skills in seduction and even less in the art of making sex interesting. What if they did it, and he was bored or repulsed at her lack of experience?
Again. She’d rather live with the humiliation than with a lifetime of regret.
“No guts, no glory,” she said aloud.
“Did you say something?”
Breely jumped at the sound of Moe’s voice immediately behind her. She’d been so caught up in her internal struggle she hadn’t heard the shower shut off or the door open. Spinning to face him, her cheeks burned.
He wore a pair of gym shorts. Nothing else. His bare chest had a light coat of black curls. Six-pack abs led to a narrow waist, slim hips and thick thighs below the shorts.
“You were fast,” she said, her voice breathy. She couldn’t seem to get enough air into her lungs. Not with him and his naked chest standing so close and… Hell. So close.
He nodded toward the chair. “You can’t sleep in that chair.”
“Sure, I can,” she insisted when she should’ve asked him to make love to her.
Moe shook his head. “No. You can’t. You’re small, but even a child couldn’t sleep on that.”
“I could sleep in the tub.” She marched to the chair, collected the pillow and blanket and headed for the bathroom.
“It’s wet and hard,” he said. “No.”
“The floor?” Breely looked up into his face. The words to ask him to make love to her stuck to the tip of her tongue.
“No chair. No tub. No floor.” He tilted his head toward the bed. “It’s a king-sized bed. Plenty big enough for two people to sleep on without touching each other.” He took the pillow and blanket from her hands. “We can even put pillows between us if it makes you feel better.”
That wouldn’t make her feel better. Inside, Breely was begging Moe to make love to her. However, nothing came out of her mouth. She stood frozen to the floor, her body burning.
Just ask him!
“Moe—”
“Breely—”
They spoke at the same time.
Breely laughed, the sound verging on hysteria.
“Go ahead,” Moe said.
Breely shook her head. “No, you go first.”
“We need sleep. Neither one of us has to be uncomfortable. Seriously, this doesn’t have to be awkward. I’m not planning on making love to you or taking advantage of you in any way. I made a promise, and I won’t go back on it.”
If she wanted it, damn it, she had to take the bull by the horns and own it.
“What if I want you to make love to me?” she blurted out.
He stared down at her without touching her. His eyes narrowed. “Is this hypothetical, or are you asking?”
She slid her tongue across her lips. “Asking,” she whispered.
He tilted his head toward her as if he couldn’t quite hear what she was saying.
“Damn it.” Breely stomped her foot and lifted her chin. “Morris Cleveland, will you make love to me?”
Did his eyes flare?
Breely stared up at him, her breath lodged in her lungs, waiting for his response.
For a long moment, he held her gaze, unmoving, unblinking and completely poker-faced.
Breely teetered on the verge of accepting the inevitable, grabbing the blankets and locking herself in the bathroom for a long night of cursing and sexual frustration.
Her muscles bunched for flight.
Moe raised a hand and cupped her cheek. “Are you sure that’s what you want? We barely know each other.”
“I know your life story; you know mine.” she laughed shakily. “What more do we need to know?”