The Passionate Lover. Carole Mortimer

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.

      But Shelby couldn't let herself reach that fulfilment, no matter how much she needed or wanted it, her fingers rough in his hair as she pulled him up to her. ‘I meant please stop,’ she lied, her pride already in shreds. ‘Please stop kissing me, Kyle.'

      For a moment he looked dazed, then cold reality returned to the bleakness of his eyes, his mouth twisting as he looked down at her flushed nakedness. ‘But I didn't kiss you, Shelby,’ he pointed out softly. ‘Not here, at least,’ he touched her lips with a hand that smelt of her body.

      Confusion washed over her as she realised he only spoke the truth. He hadn't kissed her mouth, not once had he acknowledged her with that intimacy. She had been a female body for him to arouse and caress, she as a person hadn't mattered to him, he couldn't have shown her that any more clearly.

      He looked down at her with coldly merciless eyes. ‘Should I apologise for showing you I was right about you?’ he derided with contempt.

      She swallowed hard. ‘No…!'

      ‘Don't look so stricken, Shelby,’ he moved back to his own bed, his expression mocking as she instantly pulled the quilt up over her nakedness. ‘I was merely saving you the trouble of trying your wiles on me now that Kenny has put himself out of the running.'

      ‘I—–'

      ‘You see I'm not interested in more than slightly used goods,’ he added sneeringly. ‘And certainly not a woman on the make like you are.'

      Shelby was very pale, from the shock of her own actions as much as from his insults. She was about to marry his cousin, she deserved every insult he hurled at her about her morals! ‘You're so wrong about me,’ she began pleadingly.

      ‘Am I?’ His eyes looked her over coldly, making Shelby conscious