Carole Mortimer - The Passionate Lover

‘You really can cook,’ Kyle said appreciatively after downing two platefuls. ‘We could do with you out here at branding time, Charlie is the worst cook I know.'

She gave the ghost of a smile at his attempt at light conversation, exhaustion making her slow to react to what she knew was a standard joke at the Double K. Everyone made derogatory remarks about Charlie Peterson's cooking, but Shelby had a feeling it was done more out of affection for the old man than from any real truth. ‘Your aunt told me she taught him herself,’ she said as she cleared the table of their crockery, putting it in the soapy water she had boiled.

Kyle grimaced. ‘That statement should speak for itself.'

Helen Whitney was one of the best cooks she had ever met; now she knew the jokes were only teasing. Kenny's mother ran the ranch-house with an iron will that matched that of her nephew, and Shelby had come to like her very much.

‘Let me do this,’ Kyle gently moved her away from the sink, his expression searching. ‘You look as if you're about all in. Get some sleep now, everything will seem different in the morning.'

She certainly hoped so, because everything seemed very bleak right now! Maybe tomorrow she would have the strength and mental capacity to ask him exactly what he had meant about Kenny. Right now she just wanted to sleep.

She did exactly that as soon as her head touched the pillow, heavily at first, and then the dreams began to intrude, dark frightening dreams of the snow falling in on her and burying her, bringing her to startled wakefulness. She looked about her dazedly for several minutes, despair washing over her as she realised where she was.

One of the lamps still burnt low in the cabin, and glancing at the man who slept across the room from her Shelby knew it wasn't for Kyle's benefit. He lay on his back, the face that could often be harsh and derisive smoothed out to look incredibly handsome, although the darkness of the beard that was already forming gave him a rugged look. His quilt had fallen back almost to his waist, his deeply tanned chest covered with dark wiry hair. It was a long time since she had seen a man even partially naked, and it was even more disturbing that Kyle Whitney should now be that man.

She turned away abruptly, feeling almost guilty for noticing the hard planes of his body, the skin a deep mahogany colour. She was in love with Kenny, and the attraction of his cynical cousin didn't matter to her!

And yet her gaze was drawn again and again to him, sleep eluding her. It sounded as if it were snowing again outside, and her heart sank at this further obstacle to them getting away from here, a closed-in feeling enveloping her until she began to move about restlessly.

‘Can't you sleep?'

She turned sharply at the sound of that soft rasp, blinking as she saw Kyle Whitney was now turned on his side as he leaned on his elbow looking across at her. She moistened her lips nervously. ‘I'm sorry if I woke you,’ her own voice came out in a whisper too.

‘You didn't,’ he dismissed. ‘Does your head ache?'

‘My head…?'

‘Where you fell and knocked it earlier,’ he explained patiently.

‘Oh. No,’ she shook her head. ‘I—It feels fine.'

‘Then why aren't you asleep?'

How could she tell him it was because the sight of his nakedness had disturbed her! God, she must be going insane, or snow-crazy! She disliked Kyle Whitney, and he despised her, so how could she possibly be physically disturbed by him?

‘Shelby?'

She shivered as she turned to find narrowed grey eyes on her. ‘I—It was the storm outside,’ she invented.

‘Was it?’ He clearly wasn't convinced.

She gave him a startled look. Surely he hadn't been able to guess the intimacy of her thoughts a few minutes ago? ‘I don't know what you mean?’ she frowned.

Kyle sat up completely, wrapping a blanket around his waist as he moved to throw more logs on the fire, his expression harsh as he stared down into the leaping flames.

‘Kyle?’ she prompted at his prolonged silence.

The eyes he turned on her were flinty with contempt. ‘Are you finding it lonely already?’ he rasped.

All colour left her face as he once again verbally attacked her. ‘I told you,’ she was breathing erratically, ‘I'm used to sleeping alone.'

‘But you aren't alone, are you,’ he pointed out as he crossed the room towards her.

She blinked as his meaning became crystal clear, realising how dangerous he could be in this frame of mind. ‘We don't even like each other—–'

‘Does that matter?’ he scorned.

‘To me , yes!’ she answered indignantly.

‘Why?’ He sat on the edge of her bed, so near Shelby could feel his body warmth. ‘I can assure you I'm much more experienced than Kenny is,’ he added derisively.

Shelby moistened suddenly dry lips. This was one way in which she had never thought of Kyle Whitney as being a threat, secure in the knowledge that he didn't like her. ‘Are you sure you aren't the one who's lonely, Kyle?’ she taunted to hide her fear. ‘For Mrs Judd?’ she added insultingly, the only occasions Kyle had left the ranch during the last two weeks having been on the evenings he visited the other woman.

His face darkened. ‘Sylvia happens to be the widow of my closest friend,’ he told her coldly. ‘I keep a protective eye on her, that's all.'

‘I'm sure you do!'

‘Chase would have done the same for me,’ he ground out.

‘In the same way?’ she derided. ‘Then it must indeed have been a “close” friendship the two of you had!'

She knew she had gone too far even as he reached for her, expecting to be shaken until her teeth rattled, instead finding herself pulled up against his hair-roughened chest, the quilt falling down so that her bared breasts were crushed against him, the nipples over-sensitive where she hadn't been touched so intimately in such a long time.

The colour flooded her cheeks as Kyle leant back to view her instantaneous reaction, his eyes darkening to black pools of desire. ‘Kyle, please—–'

‘You have beautiful breasts,’ he murmured as if she hadn't protested, bending his head to suck one of the pert tips into his mouth, his dark lashes fanned out against his cheeks as he became intent on arousing her with the sharp nip of his teeth and the moist caresses of his tongue.

Shelby's hands came up to push him away, but as the quick-fire excitement surged through her body her fingers curled into him in spasmodic pleasure. Always a sensitive part of her body, her nipples ached for the caress of that moist mouth, her breath catching in her throat as Kyle gave the other breast his full attention.

‘Like ivory velvet,’ he muttered against her skin, trailing a path of warm kisses down to her navel as he lay her back on the bed, his tongue, tasting her, exciting her. ‘But you're warm,’ he said softly as he moved even lower. ‘So very warm.’ His hand moved slowly from her knee to her thighs, gently parting them. His mouth traced circles on her skin.

It was madness, utter madness to let him continue, and yet this seemed to be a time out of time, almost a dream. And she didn't want to wake up, had never known such a wealth of sensual delight. Gavin had been a very gentle and considerate lover, he would never have dreamt of silencing her reluctance in such a blatantly physical way.

Gavin. God, if not for herself she had to stop this for him, out of respect for his memory, and the warm and loving relationship they had always had. By acting like a wanton she was not only being unfaithful to that memory she was also convincing Kyle that he had been right about her all along, that any man would do to share her bed in an emergency.

But even so it took some seconds for her to formulate enough strength of will to stop him, her body moving and reacting to his slightest command, opening to him as it had never done before, burning with a need to reach fulfilment.