A Wife for a Westmoreland / Claiming His Royal Heir: A Wife for a Westmoreland. Brenda Jackson
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out in front of it on one of those days that was cold, snowy and dreary outside.
On the drive over, he did notice that this particular subdivision was centrally located to just about everything; shopping, fast-food places, grocery stores and a dry cleaner. That had to be pretty advantageous to her. He rolled his eyes wondering why the heck he cared if it was or not.
“I’m ready now, Derringer.”
He turned and glanced back at her. She was standing beside a floor lamp and the lighting totally captured her beauty. For a moment he just stood there and stared, unable to tear his gaze away from her. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew the answer when he felt blood rush straight to his groin. It would be so easy for him to suggest that they forget about the movie and hang here instead. But he knew he couldn’t do that.
However, there was something he could do, something he definitely felt compelled to do at that moment. He slowly moved toward her with his heart pounding hard in his chest with every step he took. And when he stood directly in front of her, he said the only words he could say at that moment. Words he knew were totally true. “You look simply beautiful tonight, Lucia.”
Lucia didn’t know what to say. His compliment caused soothing warmth to spread all through her. In the back of her mind something warned her that the man was smooth, sophisticated and experienced. Like most men, he would say just about anything to score. But at that moment she didn’t care. The compliment had come from Derringer Westmoreland and to her that meant everything.
“Thank you, Derringer.”
He lowered his head a little, bent low to murmur in her ear, “You’re so very welcome.”
He kept his head lowered to that angle and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he intended to kiss her. And that knowledge caused several heated anticipatory sensations to flow from the toes of her feet to the crown of her head.
“Lucia?”
The throaty tone of his voice seemed to stroke everything within her and was doing so effortlessly.
“Yes?”
He lifted his hand to cradle her chin and tilt her face up to his. Her pulse rate increased when a slow smile touched his lips the moment their eyes connected. “I need to kiss you.” And before she could draw her next breath, he lowered his mouth to hers.
He had kissed her that night numerous times in the throes of passion, but she immediately thought this kiss was different. The passion was still there, but unlike before it wasn’t flaming out of control. What he was doing was slowly and deliberately robbing her senses of any and all control.
His tongue eased between her lips on a breathless moan and he seemed in no hurry to do anything but stand there, feed on every angle of her mouth, every nook and cranny. His kiss burned her in its wake, sharing its heat. He tasted like the peppermint candy he’d obviously been sucking on earlier.
But now he was sucking on her—her tongue at least; and he wasn’t letting up as he probed deeply, gently but thoroughly, plunging her into an oasis of sensations as his tongue continued to sweep over her mouth.
She felt something roll around in her belly at the same time he moved his body closer, and automatically the cradle of her thighs nestled the hard erection pressing against her, causing an ache that was so engaging she couldn’t do anything but moan.
This was the sort of kiss most men left a girl with after a date and not before the start of their evening. But evidently no one told that to Derringer and he was showing her there was no particular order in the way he did things. He made his own rules, set his own parameters. Now she knew why he was so high in demand with women, and why fathers warned him not to pursue their daughters. And why heat could resonate off his body like nobody’s business.
But tonight he was making it her business.
He shifted the intensity of the kiss without warning and the hands that were already wrapped around her waist tightened in a possessive grip. The probing of his tongue deepened and she could only stand there and continue to moan while her pulse throbbed erratically in her throat. Her hips moved instinctively against his and the heat that spread lower all through her belly didn’t slow down any.
There was no telling how long they would have stood there, going at each other’s mouths, if she hadn’t pulled back for air. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, licking her lips and and tasting him on her tongue. The pleasure she felt just being kissed by him was almost unbearable. She slowly opened her eyes to calm the turbulent emotions inside her.
For the second time that night, his hand lifted to capture her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze. The look in his eyes was dark, intense, sexually hungry. At that moment, he looked as rugged as the landscape in which he lived. Westmoreland country. She never realized until now just how much that had defined him. She continued to hold his gaze. Mesmerized. Falling deeper and deeper in love.
“You, Lucia Conyers, are more than I bargained for,” he said in a deep, husky tone that sounded intimate and overwhelming at the same time.
She chuckled unevenly while wondering if this was how a kiss could easily get out of hand. Was this how a couple could take a kiss to another level without realizing they’d done so until it was too late to do anything about it?
“Is being more than you bargained for a good thing or a bad thing, Derringer?” she asked him.
He laughed softly at her question and released her chin, but not before lowering his head and brushing his lips across hers. “I’ll let you decide that later,” he whispered hotly against her lips. “Come on. Let’s get out of here while we can.”
Tonight was not going the way he’d planned, Derringer thought. Even the smell of popcorn couldn’t get rid of her scent. His nostrils were inflamed with it. This was their first date and he had fully intended for it to be their last.
But …
And there was a but in there someplace. For him there were probably several and each of them were messing with his mind. Making him not want to end their evening together. Or to spoil just how good things were going between them.
After the movie he suggested they go to Torie’s for coffee. She was everything a man could appreciate in a date, while at the same time not fully what a man expected—but in a positive way. She had the ability to ease into a conversation that wasn’t just about her. And as he maneuvered his sports car through downtown Denver, he quickly reached the conclusion that he liked the sound of her voice and in the close confines of the car, her scent continued to overtake his senses.
Derringer couldn’t help but wonder if there was something with this “scent of a woman” theory that men often talked about behind closed doors and in dimly lit, whiskey-laden poolrooms. Over his lifetime he had encountered a lot of women who smelled good, but the one sitting next to him right now, whose eyes were closed as she took in the sound of John Legend on his CD player, not only smelled good but was good to smell. And he decided then and there that there was a difference. He chuckled and shook his head at his conclusion.
“Um, what’s so funny?” she asked, opening her eyes and turning her head to glance over at him.
“I was just thinking about the movie,” he lied, knowing there was no way he would tell her what really had amused him.
She laughed lazily. “It was good, wasn’t it?”
When the car slowed in traffic, he gave her a sidelong glance. “Yes, it was. Are you comfortable?”
“Yes. And thanks. This car is nice.”
“Glad you like it.” He was certain his smile flashed in the dimly lit interior. He appreciated any woman who liked his car. A number of his former dates had complained that although his car was sleek and fast, it was not roomy enough.
“Can you believe they are expecting snow next weekend?”
He chuckled. “Hey, this is Denver. Snowstorms are always expected.”