He couldn’t seem to help himself, as though driven to leave his mark on her. It felt possessive and territorial, and she loved it, even though it wasn’t politically correct to think that way. Still standing in front of the mirror, she zipped her pants and reached for a sweater. It was the first time in three days, since the night she’d become his lover, that she’d had any reason to dress or get out of bed for more than a few minutes. The weather had raged on for most of the time, making it impossible for her father and his crew to arrive. They’d taken advantage of the interlude to get better acquainted. At least physically, she thought with a small sigh, as she slipped on her sweater. She knew every inch of Reed’s body by now, and had a fair idea how to drive him wild, but she was no closer to knowing the man. He didn’t rebuff her questions so harshly now, but he didn’t answer either. She’d talked and chatted, telling him every inane detail of her life in hopes he would open up, but she’d gotten nothing.
