Out of Eden. Beth Ciotta
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at least everywhere her subconscious wanted him to touch her. The cold water pelting her body did little to cool the heat between her legs. Frustrated, she nabbed the handheld shower massage, turned the dial and directed the fast and hard pulsating stream to where she ached most. She exploded with a quaking orgasm in two seconds flat.
Breathless, she wilted against the wall of the cramped stall. Seconds later, her heart settled in her chest, and instead of satisfied, she felt a twinge of guilt and regret.
“Why can’t I make you come like that?” Bobby had once asked after he’d urged her to pleasure herself.
She didn’t know, and it frustrated her that it bothered him so much. It’s not like she didn’t enjoy sex with him. In fact, she went out of her way to please him. It made her feel good when she drove him over the edge. Why couldn’t that be enough?
She’d assured him that it wasn’t his fault. “I’ve only been with two other men and I didn’t have orgasms then, either.” That didn’t make him feel better. In fact, two weeks later he left on a travel assignment and never came back. She didn’t want to believe it was because she was wired wrong, so she convinced herself, and everyone else, he’d simply gotten cold feet.
In a way, she wished she was promiscuous. Maybe she’d benefit from more experience.
Unfortunately, Kylie had never been able to wrap her mind around sex without an emotional attachment. If she could, she would’ve indulged in casual affairs in search of a skilled lover with the magic touch. A lover who’d show her the orgasmic stars.
In her dreams, Jack was that man. She hated that she couldn’t wipe those erotic sensations and images from her mind. She hated that she was contemplating risking her heart in order to fulfill a primitive yearning. Maybe she wasn’t wired wrong. Maybe she just hadn’t been with the right man. Maybe she could handle a fling with Jack because she was emotionally attached to him. Maybe if she knew going in that it wouldn’t be forever.
“Wow,” she said as she toweled off. “Given the proper motivation, a girl can talk herself into anything.”
Thoughtful, Kylie swiped her hand over the steamy mirror and frowned at her reflection. “When Jack looks at you, he sees Spenser’s kid sister.” She hated that, too. “Maybe it’s because you haven’t updated your look in, well, ever. Maybe it’s because he’s used to slick city chicks and you look like a frumpy bumpkin.”
Inspiration struck. Or rather, an intense urge to shake things up.
She stared into the mirror, tried to envision a new haircut and color. She couldn’t.
“But Faye could.”
They’d never gotten that private moment yesterday. Faye had blown back into the hardware store, saying she had things to do at Orchard House, then she’d blown back out. The tension had been worse than before. At a loss, Kylie had decided to give her friend space and time.
That meant trusting her makeover to Petunia, the owner and primary stylist at the local beauty shop. Most of the woman’s clients walked out with a perm or last year’s hot celebrity cut. Seeing as Kylie wasn’t big on poodles or Posh, visiting a big-city stylist might be a safer bet. Except, she couldn’t afford the long drive. Couldn’t afford missing her meeting with the HPS. Plus, she probably couldn’t get an appointment for today, anyway, and she wanted a makeover now. She’d just have to be firm about what she didn’t want and hope for the best.
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