Shannon scooted backward until she felt the warm vise of Whip’s thighs closing on either side.
«More,» he said.
She edged back an inch or two. «How’s that?»
«Not enough. I still can’t reach your hat without letting in the storm.»
Shannon dug in her heels and rocked her bottom slightly, pushing herself against Whip until she felt the heat of his muscular thighs seeping into her.
«Okay?» she asked.
Whip dragged in a slow, hidden breath. The feel of Shannon’s hips rocking softly between his thighs had hardened him in a wild torrent that all but stopped his heart.
«Closer,» he said thickly.
«I can’t. There’s no room.»
«There’s lots more room. You’d be surprised how close two bodies can get if they put their minds to it.»
Shannon muttered beneath her breath and dug in her heels once more, rocking backward a fraction of an inch at a time. She felt Whip’s breathing break, heard a low sound that could have been a groan, and sensed the vibrant tension in his body.
«Whip?»
He managed a questioning sound.
«Are you all right?» Shannon asked.
«A little cold around the edges,» he said, lying through his teeth. «How about you?»
«A lot more comfortable than I was. You’re better for warming than a campfire.»
She sensed as much as heard Whip’s amusement.
«But my hat is still halfway off,» Shannon added. «It’s tickling my nose.»
«Sit tight. I’ll move around until I can get a hand free without freezing us.»
Before she could answer, Shannon felt Whip’s big body shift against her. The sensual, moving prison of his chest and thighs rubbed over her, sending heat like lightning through the center of her body.
«What are you doing?» she asked in a strained voice.
«Trying to sit on a corner of the damned tarpaulin so I can get a hand free to fix your hat. Why?»
«Nothing.»
Shannon’s nose twitched as a lock of hair slid free and slithered over her face. Hail drummed down on the tarpaulin, gathering coldly in the creases. Thunder chased lightning through the storm. Whip’s movements continued to send a different kind of lightning spearing through Shannon.
«There,» Whip said. «That should do it.»
Shannon let out a sigh of relief and tried to relax. She didn’t know her own body when Whip was this close to her, moving against her, sharing the very air she breathed.
«Lean back against me,» he said.
«Why?»
«Do you want that hat fixed or not?»
Grumbling, Shannon leaned back until she felt the hard coils of the bullwhip on Whip’s shoulder. Her hat loosened, shifted, and was tugged firmly back into place on top of her head by Whip’s hand.
«How’s that?» he asked.
«Better. But now my hair is in my face.»
«You’re more trouble than a sack full of puppies.»
Despite his complaint, Whip was smiling as he reached around Shannon, caught the lock of hair, and tucked it behind her ear.
«All set?» Whip asked.
«Yes. Thank you.»
«Nothing else bothering you?»
«No.»
«Good. I want you to be able to concentrate on what you’re feeling.»
«Right now I’m feeling — Whip!»
«Hang on to that tarpaulin, honey girl. The hail is damned cold.»
Shannon barely heard Whip’s words. His big hand had slid inside her jacket and cupped her right breast. Slowly, tenderly, he caressed her until her nipple peaked. He caught the hardened tip between his fingers and pinched lightly.
A gasp came from Shannon as fire licked out from her breast, consuming her. The flames leaped higher as Whip kneaded her soft flesh and tugged at the nipple until it stood proudly against her worn shirt.
«There are times when leather gloves are a real nuisance,» Whip said. «Help me, honey girl. Set your teeth in the leather and pull.»
«But —»
«I’m just giving you the answer to your question about how you can learn without being touched. You can’t. So I’m touching you. If you don’t like the way I’m doing it, tell me what’s wrong and I’ll change it.»
Shannon bit down on her lip, trying not to cry out as Whip’s fingers teased and delighted her at the same time.
«Shannon?»
The low word was her name and a question and a caress spoken against the nape of her neck.
«Do you want me to stop?» he asked.
«Yes. No. I don’t know!»
She took a swift, wild breath. The movement pressed her nipple against Whip’s hand. Pleasure rippled through her.
«Yes,» Shannon whispered. «Touch me. Teach me.»
Whip tried to still the elemental response of his body to her husky words.
It was impossible.
Thank God it’s the middle of a hailstorm, Whip thought ruefully. I’m going to have a hell of a time stopping at a little petting.
«Help me with this glove,» he said in a low voice. «It will feel much better. For both of us.»
Whip’s hand lifted from Shannon’s breast and slid up to her chin, then her lips. Blindly she found the tip of one of his fingers, bit down on the leather, and tugged. She did the same with each finger until he was able to free himself of the glove.
Instantly his hand returned to her breast. Beneath her unbuttoned jacket, his fingertips circled the rigid peak without touching it.
«Does this feel better for you?» Whip asked huskily. «It damn well does for me. You make me think of hot satin and sunlight and a slow, aching kind of lovemaking.»
Shannon bit back a cry. Her back arched as she tried to bring Whip’s hand closer to her hungry nipple.
With a smile that Shannon couldn’t see, Whip bent his head and nudged her hat upward until he could set his teeth against the nape of her neck.
The primitive caress dragged a low sound from Shannon’s throat. She bent her head to give Whip greater freedom and was rewarded by another hot, tender bite. At the same time, his fingers caught her nipple and plucked.
Fire blossomed in Shannon’s belly. She didn’t know that her shirt was giving way a button at a time, making room for Whip’s big hand. She only knew that her skin was on fire and his fingers were hard, cool, delicious in their blind caresses.
Whip felt the shiver that went through Shannon’s soft breast, felt the rigid crown he had drawn from her, and wished that they were naked in a warm bed rather than fully clothed with a hailstorm beating at their frail shelter.
With a throttled groan, Whip eased his hand over to Shannon’s left breast. It was already firm, pouting for his touch, and when he plucked the nipple, it became a velvet dagger thrusting against his palm.
«You have the most responsive breasts,» Whip said. «A touch, and they harden.»
«I don’t — they don’t usually — I mean — unless it’s cold — wet — oh Lord, I can’t think.»
