by Anne Mather
‘Is that how you men deal with everything? With threats of violence?’
Kyle’s head went up at that. The hard, sculpted line of his jaw commanded her attention like nothing else as the action brought the stunning male beauty of his features into vivid and sharp relief.
‘He’s lucky he got away with mere threats. If I’d gone with my true instincts I’d have taught him a lesson he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.’
‘And that would have solved everything, would it?’ Megan’s fingers gripped and ungripped the solid mahogany frame of the armchair.
‘No.’ Kyle’s glance was measured and assessing to the point of coolness. ‘But it sure as hell would have given me great satisfaction to know that I’d inflicted pain on the bastard who maimed you for life.’
Megan felt as though all the life had been sucked out of her. She moved round the chair and slumped wearily down onto its plump red cushion. The stark delivery of Kyle’s words had brutally brought home to her the gravity of her situation. No matter which way she looked at it, the fact was that Nick could have killed her. In one mindless act of violence he’d inflicted a serious injury that would affect the rest of her life. And it could have been even worse. If she’d fallen any more awkwardly she could have broken her neck, and she wouldn’t be sitting here now feeling as if she didn’t have the strength to get up—never mind carry on with the rest of her life.
‘You seem to be making a habit of coming to my rescue.’ Glancing up at Kyle, she managed a smile of sorts, but it slid away from her naked pink mouth almost as soon as she’d attempted it.
‘Why did you walk out on me this morning?’ His voice hoarse, Kyle walked slowly across to where she sat, glaring down at her with barely suppressed irritation.
All her muscles tightened in response to his nearness.
‘I—I just didn’t know how to deal with what happened between—between us,’ she admitted softly, her mouth trembling.
Kyle dropped down onto his haunches at her feet, his hands reaching out to stroke the gentle folds of her skirt across her knees. ‘Why was Nick here?’
He kept stroking her through the material and Megan wondered how his touch simply just didn’t burn a hole right through it. ‘I don’t want to talk about Nick.’ Her breath expelled on a tremulous sigh as Kyle suddenly rested his head on her knees, then began stroking his hands up and down the sides of her thighs in a manner that was both sensuous and spine-tingling.
‘You shouldn’t be alone with him. Ever.’
‘I know.’ She gasped as he maneuvered a hand beneath her skirt and slid it arousingly up her calf.
‘Too many clothes.’ He raised his head and stole her breath with his sexy riveting smile. All languorous golden gaze, high cheekbones and even white teeth in a mouth that promised kisses to die for. ‘You’re always wearing too many clothes, Megan. All I want to do whenever I see you is peel them off, one by one. Like this.’
She’d hardly realised his fingers had worked their way up to the sides of the cotton panties she wore beneath her skirt, so transfixed was she by his outrageously sinful smile. But shockwaves throbbed through her now as he jerked them purposefully down over her hips and discarded them in one devastatingly fluid movement.
‘Kyle…!’ Mindlessly she drove her fingers into the thick tousled strands of his hair as languid heat poured into her, making her immediately and shockingly moist, her skin flushing as he slid her skirt up over her knees, then started to kiss the soft tender flesh of her inner thighs.
‘Oh, God…’ She cried out loud when his lips moved downwards to gently kiss the raw, slightly ridged network of scars crossing her knee. ‘Please don’t.’
‘I don’t want you to hide anything from me,’ he said raggedly as he gently pushed her restraining hand away. ‘There isn’t one part of you that isn’t totally exquisite.’
Tears blurred Megan’s vision. She could barely swallow over the egg-sized lump that had formed in her throat. Their gazes met and melded into each other’s growing heat.
‘I want to be inside you,’ Kyle said roughly.
‘Yes.’
She found herself urged carefully down onto the floor, her gaze in direct line with the white-painted ceiling and the terracotta shade that swung from the ornate ceiling rose as Kyle deftly undid the button fly of his jeans then thrust himself fully inside her.
Megan’s mind exploded with the sensation of heat and velvet hardness inside her body, her tender muscles clenching and unclenching around him as he filled her again and again with his wild hungry possession, his gaze like trapped sunlight, eyes half closed with molten languorous need. Then, just as he bent his head to touch his lips to hers, her pelvis clenched tight as need and desire exploded into unexpected earth-shattering bliss, and she found herself with tears streaming unchecked down her face as Kyle’s tongue glided expertly and hotly into her mouth.
As he consumed her body and soul with the destroying devastation of his ardent kiss Megan thought she might just die if she didn’t have this wild untrammelled pleasure at least once a day for the rest of her life.
Chapter Nine
KYLE paused in the doorway of the summerhouse to savour the arresting sight that met his eyes. Megan was painting. Standing in front of the easel he had carefully positioned for her, caught in the shaft of sunlight that poured through the window. Her eyes were captivatingly dreamy, sooty black lashes framing orbs of a luxuriant, sensual brown. Paintbrush in hand, thoughts far away, Kyle had never seen her look lovelier. The expression on her beautiful face was almost beatific—and there was an incandescent glow about her that was perfectly compelling.
The scene had the kind of soulful presence he strove to bring alive in his work, and a surge of pure pleasure warmed his heart as he gazed at her, silently admitting he would be more than content to just stand and look for the rest of the day. She was wearing one of his old white paint-spattered shirts over her pretty white camisole and jeans, the shirt tails almost reaching the backs of her knees, her rich dark hair falling gently over the soft womanly swell of her breasts. His shirt had never looked so good and probably never would again—unless Megan was wearing it, of course.
Deep in thought, she wrinkled her nose prettily in contemplation of whatever it was she was painting. He’d given her carte blanche to do whatever she wanted, and right now she was totally oblivious to his presence and his silent perusal. So much so that Kyle wrestled with the idea of disturbing her at all.
Then, as if some infinitesimal thing had somehow alerted her, her gaze swung round to collide with his and Kyle experienced the full sensual impact of the ensuing contact like a firework erupting in his stomach. He straightened, shaken by the force of his attraction, swallowing down a deep gulp of air before trusting himself to speak.
‘Didn’t mean to disturb you, but I’ve made some lunch.’ He grinned as he stepped inside the light airy studio, mainly because he couldn’t seem to help himself. Right now life didn’t feel as if it could get much better…for him, anyway.
The thought side-swiped him, taking him by surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt either so sanguine or so excited. He certainly couldn’t recall the last woman in his life who’d made him feel that way. But something told him this was an entirely new experience.
‘Tuna and pasta bake with salad. You are hungry?’
For a moment Megan didn’t know what to say. All her faculties for speech suddenly seemed to desert her. When she’d turned just then to find him staring her insides had all but melted with the intensity of her feelings for him. The sensation had been no less than staggering. The unmitigated joy of seeing him, spending time with him, had suddenly become the most essential component of her life, and every living cell in her body was sublimely and intimately attuned to everything about him: from his supremely male yet undoubtedly graceful stride, and the way he could make a smile seem like the sexiest thing you’d ever seen, to the fascinating aura of energy that he emanated that was like a m
atch to the tinder of her heart.
‘You really are a dabhand in the kitchen, aren’t you? When I first saw how immaculate it was I thought it was just for show, but you can really cook, can’t you?’ A small dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth as she stole a helpless glance, then became frozen on her face when his own drop-dead gorgeous smile devastatingly deepened.
‘My mother wouldn’t have it any other way.’ He shrugged, hazel eyes emitting a playful twinkle that finished off the complete hijacking of her heart. ‘She’s a firm believer in “real” men knowing how to cook. In a way it’s not unlike being an artist. You get all the right ingredients or colours together and hopefully create something beautiful.’
Megan couldn’t help but sigh. ‘You make it sound so…so straightforward and simple.’
‘That’s how it should be. I didn’t say it was exactly like that. Sometimes it can be pure torture.’ He was walking slowly towards her, sinewy muscles taut beneath his black sweatshirt and jeans, handsome face reflective. ‘Sometimes it’s the hardest thing to coax out the vision you have in your mind and transfer it onto the canvas. You live and die in the process.’
Megan shivered. Instinctively she knew what he meant. It was the same with her. There were times when her pencil or brush could flow like a dream, and others when the whole thing was like trying to climb Mount Everest without any climbing gear. That was when disbelief and doubt set in. When that cruel little voice inside her said she was a self-deceiving fool for even daring to dream that she might one day earn her living as an artist. Not that she’d attempted very much in those long years of artistic drought. Not when Nick had heavily curtailed her longing for self-expression. But still she had had her dreams, her own vision of what she might accomplish. And they had never gone away, even when things were at their most dire.
But thoughts of Nick and the disturbing unhappy events of that same morning snatched at the ray of hope that Megan had allowed herself, and her face clouded with unease. Why had he had to show up and take her by surprise like that? She’d been so unprepared to see him, so…so pathetically unassertive. No wonder he had treated her as he had. But even if she had been prepared, would she have dealt with the situation any better?
Frustration and shame crawled up her spine as she silently cursed the fact that she’d allowed her self-esteem and self-respect to take such an unrelenting battering for all those long lonely years. How could she have done that to herself? A half-choked sound emanated from her lips and her throat tightened in helpless anguish.
Kyle’s shoulders stiffened. In less than a minute he was behind her, sliding his arms around her waist in an instinctive bid to offer whatever solace he could. He heard her soft gasp of surprise, felt the muscles in her ribcage grow taut, then sensed her relax against him even as she trembled, her supple body pliant and oh, so feminine beneath his touch, her vanilla-laced scent drifting round him, reeling him in.
Sensation overload. He was instantly aroused. Hell, he couldn’t even be in the same room as her without being turned on—let alone stand behind her, feeling the luscious curve of her delectable bottom pressed up close into his groin. But even so he knew she was hurting inside, and that the pain was deep. Soul-deep.
Nick Brand was lucky he had got off with mere words and a warning. For Megan’s sake Kyle had kept his hands off him, and only for Megan’s sake. If he had had his way he would have demonstrated unequivocally exactly what he thought of a man who deliberately pushed his wife down the stairs and maimed her for life. The thought made the blood pound in his temples.
‘Don’t be sad.’ He lifted her hair, his lips seeking out the beguiling heat of her nape to taste the intoxicating flavour that he was already more than just a little addicted to.
‘I’m not sad.’ Letting her head drop back against his chest, Megan felt her initial resistance desert her as she absorbed his strong silent strength, his beguiling hardness, his instinctive ability to comfort and console, silently conceding that in his arms was the only true haven she craved. Not just for now, but for always…
The magnitude of the thought hit her like an oncoming car. She’d fallen for this man just about as hard as a woman could, and in mere days, too…
‘I’m just sorry that you had to witness the sorry depths that Nick has obviously sunk to. I wish you hadn’t,’ she confessed softly, momentarily squeezing her eyes shut at the realisation that she was head over heels in love.
‘What I don’t understand is how you stuck nine years of marriage with the man. Why did you stay so long?’
‘Fear. I stayed out of fear.’ Megan trembled as Kyle’s lips moved with painstaking thoroughness up to her ear, igniting a volatile trail of lust and longing as his teeth and tongue nibbled and mercilessly teased the tender flesh of her lobe. ‘That and the fact that I always thought I could fix things. Stupid, I know. How I deluded myself. I thought most of the fault was mine. If I could just be more organised, more thoughtful, more caring, then maybe a miracle would happen. I thought Nick wouldn’t look at other women any more…that he would stop drinking. I thought he might just learn how to be happy with me.’
‘He’s a lost cause, sweetheart. Make no mistake about that. The man’s a fool, but his loss is my gain.’ With devastating intimacy, Kyle slid his hands up to her breasts and cupped them in his hands, testing their weight.
The act was destroyingly erotic. Heat sizzled in her stomach, like electricity along a fuse wire. Glancing down, she saw his beautiful slender artist’s hands, with their clean square-cut nails, spread out across her chest and a raw little sound of pure desire was expelled from her lips on a sigh. Her body was already tingling and aching with a sweet ferocity from their lovemaking earlier, and it astounded her that she wanted him again so soon, craved his touch with such a wild raw hunger that she could barely think straight.
‘I thought—I thought we were going to have lunch?’ She twisted in his arms, her limbs turning to water when she saw his eyes grow dark with longing.
‘You’d put food before this?’ he murmured, his voice thickening like molasses as his mouth hovered bare inches from her own.
‘A body’s got to eat.’ Heart pounding, Megan nonetheless found the strength to push away from him. She laid the slim sable paintbrush on the little shelf beneath the easel, then, turning, smoothed her hands down the sides of her borrowed shirt in a bid to stop them from trembling.
As much as she wanted to make love, she knew she had to engineer a little sane distance between them. If they persisted in falling on each other at every turn they’d probably go up in flames! But, more than that, Megan needed time to think. She couldn’t let her life be like a runaway train again. She had to put herself in the driving seat; take stock; think what to do.
‘I wonder if the great masters had this much trouble with their protégées?’ Kyle quipped, his expression teasing but undoubtedly frustrated as his gaze alighted on her face.
‘Am I your protégée, then?’
‘Muse, protégée, witch…I don’t care. All I know is that you’ve put me under a spell. You intoxicate me, Megan, like a fine cognac that goes straight to my head.’ He smiled ruefully.
‘Do you pay such generous compliments to all your clients?’ She meant the women, of course.
Megan pinned him with a hungry jealous glance, wisps of silky black hair drifting softly round her face as she waited with bated breath for his answer. When he didn’t immediately reply, but simply stared at her with equal if not more intensity; she curled her hands into fists by her sides and felt a slow trickle of perspiration slip down her spine like syrup. The truth was she was envious of every woman he had ever known, sick with jealousy at the idea of him having an intimate relationship with anyone but her.
She hadn’t even known she was capable of such an extreme emotion. Nick had played around, but her uppermost feeling through it all had been one of wounded pride and hurt. She’d never really been jealous of any of the other women he’d been with, come to think
of it. Not even Claire. She’d been more distraught because her friend had betrayed her than because her husband had done the same…
‘What exactly are you asking me, Megan?’ His expression implacable, Kyle folded his arms with slow deliberation as he studied the dark-eyed beauty in front of him.
‘I…I just want to make sure that I’m—that you’re not—’
‘That I don’t make a habit of sleeping with every female client that walks through my door?’
Put like that, it sounded sordid and crass, and Kyle had every right to be angry with her. Megan fiddled with the collar of her borrowed shirt, sensing her face turn crimson.
‘I’m not promiscuous, Megan. I’ve never been a monk, but I don’t sleep around. Now that’s been established, perhaps we should go and eat. What do you say?’
Turning on his heel, he headed for the door, his back straight, but with a distinct tension in the taut hard line of his shoulders.
Megan sucked in a shallow breath that was barely even there, struggling hard to keep a lid on her sudden temper. ‘I don’t understand! How can I be having a relationship with you when I don’t even know your name?’
Emotion welled in her throat as he stopped in his tracks and did an about-face. Certain that he’d be furious, Megan was completely disarmed by the perfectly wicked little smile that was playing round his lips. A smile that made her feel utterly, devastatingly boneless.
‘You know my name.’
‘I mean your full name!’
‘Why is that so important? You only need one name to call me when we’re making love.’
Stopped in her tracks, Megan felt her mouth drop open. ‘I—I’d just like to know. Can’t you tell me? It seems so ridiculous not to know…’
She recalled the postcard that Penny had hijacked from Mrs Kureshi’s newsagent’s, signed with a succinct and mysterious ‘KH’, and wondered if she knew all that much more about him now than she had then. Especially when it occurred to her that he certainly knew a hell of a lot more about her than he had revealed about himself.
