A Wife for a Westmoreland by Brenda Jackson Page A

time he spoke his warm breath blew across her lips.
    He then pulled back slightly and gazed at her thoughtfully. “You don’t believe a word I’ve said, do you?”
    She began nibbling on her bottom lip. She could easily lie and assure him that she did, but deep down she knew she didn’t believe him. She tilted her chin upward. “Does it matter whether or not I believe you, Derringer?”
    He continued to stare at her for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face, and for a split second she thought he was going to say something but he didn’t. Instead, he reached out and cupped her chin with his fingertips before slowly lowering his mouth to hers.
    Sensations ripped through her the moment their lipstouched. She closed her eyes when his tongue eased into her mouth and he began kissing her with a hunger that had her groaning deep in her throat.
    Her heart thundered when he captured her tongue with his and began doing all kinds of erotic things to it, sucking on it as if there was a time limit to get his fill, mating their tongues as if all they had was the here and now. This was the kind of kissing that made a woman forget that she was supposed to be a lady.
    She wanted this. She wanted every mind-blowing moment because she knew there was a time limit on this fantasy. Everyone around town knew of Derringer’s reputation for getting tired of his women quickly. There was only a chosen one or two who were determined to hang in for the long haul no matter what—by their choice and not his. She refused to be one of those women. She would take this and be satisfied.
    When he broke off the kiss to shift their positions to press her back against the sofa cushions, she moved willingly with him. She gazed up at him when his body eased on top of hers. She could feel his hard erection between her thighs.
    He lowered his head and began nibbling around her throat, taking the tip of his tongue and licking around her chin. “Too many clothes.” She heard him utter the word moments before he leaned up and, without warning, pulled the sweater over her head. He tossed it to the floor. He then proceeded to tug her jeans down her legs.
    He looked down at her and smiled at her matching red lace bra and panties. She wondered what was going through his mind and why he was so captivated byher lingerie. He then glanced back up at her. “I like a woman who wears lace,” he whispered huskily before leaning down and taking her mouth once more.
    His lips seemed incredibly hot and he had no problem sliding his tongue where he pleased while kissing her with slow, deep strokes. And when she felt his fingers move toward her breasts, ease under her bra to stroke a nipple, she nearly shot off the sofa when sensations speared through her.
    “Derringer…” she whispered in a strained voice.
    This was getting to be too much and she began quivering almost uncontrollably, knowing what she’d heard for years was true. Derringer Westmoreland was almost too much for any woman to handle.
     
    She was wrong. It did matter to him that she believed what he said .
    That thought raged through Derringer’s mind as he continued to kiss her with a hunger he could not understand. What was there about her that made him want to taste her all over, make her groan mercilessly and torture her over and over again before exploding inside her? The mere thought of doing the latter made his groin throb.
    He pulled back slightly, wanting her to watch exactly what he was doing. What he was about to do. When he released the front fastener of her bra, his breath quickened when her breasts came tumbling out. They were full, firm and ripe and the nipples were dark and tightened even more into hard nubs before his eyes. And when he swooped his mouth down and captured a peak between his lips, she moaned and closed her eyes.“Keep them open, Lucia. Watch me. I want you to see what I’m doing to you.”
    He saw her heavy-lidded eyes watch as he tugged a nipple into his mouth