Loving Miranda by Teresa Bodwell

Author:Teresa Bodwell [Bodwell, Teresa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2005-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Miranda slipped out the back door of Rita’s. She couldn’t go through the saloon or the kitchen, for fear Rita, or someone else she knew, would see her and figure out she’d been up to the guest rooms. There wasn’t a good reason for her to be up there. Whatever they imagined she might have been doing, it would be no worse than what she’d actually done.

Her hands shook as she checked the buttons of her shirt. She had offered herself to a man thinking he wanted her. Thinking this was her chance to find that magical pleasure Mercy had described to her. After months of promising herself to keep away from men, to stay out of trouble, she’d jumped with both feet right into a kettle of hot water. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She moved down the alley into the shadow of Rita’s storage shed. Again, she checked her buttons and looked down to be sure her skirt was straight. Breathing in and out deliberately, she willed her hands to stop shaking. Nothing torn, no outward evidence of Ben’s touch. She pulled the blue ribbon off her hair and rearranged it, binding her wild locks tight into the same ribbon. Her fingers brushed over her cheek, which was still tender from rubbing against the stubble on Ben’s face. Likely her face would be pink, but riding in the sun usually left her rosy. No one would notice the difference, she hoped.

Her index finger moved over her raw lip, remembering his lips on hers. She felt tears pooling in her eyes again. No sense in crying. Miranda cleared her throat. He’d been warm against her—and hard—pressing with the force and fury of desperation. But not desperate enough for the likes of her, apparently. He had wanted her, then something changed. She’d done something to displease him.

She thought back; everything had been fine until she was on the bed. Lawrence had always urged her to be ready. He hated waiting and blamed her if he didn’t get hard. Sometimes he seemed ready, hard and full of desire, but he’d go soft and that was always her fault, too.

Ben had still been wearing his trousers, but she could see he was ready to come inside her. She’d done her best to hurry. Had even lifted her skirt so that he didn’t have to. One tear escaped, then another. There was only one explanation. It wasn’t anything she’d done. When he’d looked at her face, he’d been so repulsed he couldn’t even look at her as she left the room.

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