CHAPTER ELEVEN ALLIE poured shower gel into her cupped hand and began to work it into her skin, wondering as she did so if she would ever feel loved again. She’d been used, but not abused, and whatever violation there’d been was of her heart, not her body. He’d taken her quickly and casually, as if demonstrating that although she might still appeal to him physically she had no hold over his emotions. But what else could she expect? Had she really believed that offering herself sexually might change Remy’s mind, or soften his attitude towards her? If so, she’d made a desperate mistake. All that she’d done was make him despise her even more. And, once again, she had no one to blame but herself, she thought wearily. Except—except that the hand asserting its dominant sweep down her body had seemed to tremble a little. Or was that simply a forlorn hope? It certainly did nothing to alleviate her sense of shame. Of failure. Or the agony of regret that clawed at her even now. The realisation of all she had lost.
