A Wife for a Westmoreland / Claiming His Royal Heir: A Wife for a Westmoreland. Brenda JacksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
on his back. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for the pain pills to kick in.
Derringer’s Dungeon.
Lucia slowed her truck when she came to the huge wooden marker in the road. Any other time she would have found it amusing that each of the Westmorelands had marked their property with such fanciful names. Already she had passed Jason’s Place, Zane’s Hideout, Canyon’s Bluff, Stern’s Stronghold, Riley’s Station and Ramsey’s Web. She’d heard when each Westmoreland reached the age of twenty-five they inherited a one-hundred-acre tract of land in this part of the state. That was why all the Westmorelands lived in proximity to each other.
She nervously gnawed on her bottom lip, finally thinking she might have made a mistake in coming here when she pulled into the yard and saw the huge two-story structure. This was her first time at Derringer’s Dungeon and from what she’d heard, most women only came by way of an invite.
So what was she doing here?
She brought her car to a stop and cut off the engine and just sat there a moment as reality set in. She had acted on impulse and of course on love, but the truth of the matter was that she had no business being here. Derringer was probably in bed resting. He might even be on medication. Would he be able to come to the door? If he did, he would probably look at her as if she had two heads for wanting to check on him. In his book they were acquaintances, not even friends.
She was about to back out and leave, when she noticed the rain had started to come down harder and a huge box that had been left on the steps of the porch was getting wet. The least she could do was to move it to an area on the porch where the rain couldn’t touch it.
Grabbing her umbrella out the backseat, she hurriedly got out of the truck and ran toward the porch to move the box closer to the door. She jumped at the sound of thunder and drew in a sharp breath when a bolt of lightning barely missed the top of her head.
Remembering what Chloe had once told her about how the Westmoreland men were notorious for not locking their doors, she tried the doorknob and saw what her best friend had said was true. The door was not locked.
Slowly opening the door, she stuck her head in and called out in a whisper in case he was downstairs sleeping on the sofa instead of upstairs. “Derringer?”
When he didn’t answer, she decided she might as well bring the box inside. The moment she entered the house, she glanced around, admiring his sister Gemma’s decorating skills. Derringer’s home was beautiful, and the floor-to-ceiling windows took full advantage of the mountain view. She was about to ease back out the door and lock it behind her when she heard a crash followed by a bump and then a loud curse.
Acting on instinct, she took the stairs two at a time and stumbled into several guest bedrooms before entering what had to be the master bedroom. It was decorated in a more masculine theme than all the others. She glanced around and then she saw him lying on the floor as if he’d fallen out of bed.
“Derringer!”
She raced over to him and knelt down beside him, trying to ignore the fact that the only clothing he had on was a pair of black briefs. “Derringer? Are you all right?” she asked, a degree of panic clearly in her voice. “Derringer?”
He slowly opened his eyes and she couldn’t stop the fluttering of her heart when she gazed down into the gorgeous dark depths. The first thing she noticed was they were glassy, as if he’d taken one drink too many … or probably one pill too many. She then took a deep breath when a slow smile touched the corners of his lips and those knock-a-girl-off-her-feet dimples appeared in his cheeks.
“Well, now, aren’t you a pretty thing,” he said in slurred speech. “What’s your name?”
“Puddin’ Tame,” she replied smartly. His actions confirmed he’d evidently taken one pill too many since he was acting as if he’d never seen her in his life.
“That’s a real nice name, sweetheart.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, cowboy. Would you like to explain why you’re down here and not up there?” She motioned toward his bed.
“That’s easy enough to answer. I went to the bathroom and when I got back, someone moved the bed and I missed it.”
She tried keeping the smile from her face. “You sure did miss it. Come on and hold on to me while I help you back into it.”
“Someone might move it again.”
“I doubt it,” she said, grinning, while thinking even when he was under the influence of medication, the deep, husky sound of his voice could do things to her. Make the nipples of her breasts strain against her damp shirt. “Come on, you have to be hurting something awful.”
He chuckled. “No, in fact I feel good. Good enough to try riding Sugar Foot again.”
She shook her head. “Not tonight you won’t. Come on, Derringer, let me help you up and get you back in bed.”
“I like it down here.”
“Sorry, pal, but you can’t stay down here. You either let me help you up or I’ll call one of your brothers to help you.”
Now it was he who shook his head. “I don’t want to see any of them again for a while. All they know how to say is, I told you so.”
“Well maybe next time you’ll listen to them. Come on.”
It took several attempts before she was able to help Derringer to his feet. It wasn’t easy to steer him to the bed, and she suddenly lost her balance and found herself tumbling backward onto his bed with him falling on top of her.
“I need you to shift your body a little to get off me, Derringer,” she said when she was able to catch her breath.
He flashed those sexy dimples again and spoke in a voice throaty with arousal. “Um, why? I like being on top of you, Puddin’. You feel good.”
She blinked and then realized the extent of her situation. She was in bed—Derringer’s bed—and he was sprawled on top of her. It didn’t take much to feel the bulge of his erection through his briefs that was connecting with the area between her legs. A slow burn began inching from that very spot and spreading all through her, entering her bloodstream and making her skin burn all over. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the nipples of her breasts, which were already straining, hardened like pebbles against his bandaged chest.
As if sensing her body’s reaction to their position, he lifted his face to stare down at her and the glassy eyes that snagged hers were so drenched with desire that her breath got caught in her throat. Something she’d never felt before, a pooling of heat, settled between her legs, wetting her panties, and she watched his nostrils flare in response to her scent.
The air between them was crackling more than the thunder and lightning outside, and his chest seemed to rise and fall with each and every beat of her heart.
Fearing her own rapid reaction to their predicament, she made an attempt to gently shove him off her, but found she was no match for his solid weight.
“Derringer …”
Instead of answering her, he reached up and cupped her face into his hands as if her mouth was water he needed to sip, and before she could turn her mouth away from his, with perfect aim, he lowered his mouth and began devouring hers.
Derringer figured he had to be dreaming, and if he was, then this was one delusion he didn’t care to ever wake up from. Feasting on Puddin’ Tame’s lips was the epitome of sensual pleasure. Molded perfectly, they were hot and moist. And the way he had plunged his tongue inside her mouth, devouring hers was the sort of fantasy wet dreams were made of.
Somewhere in the back of his lust-induced mind he remembered getting thrown off a horse; in that case, his body should be in pain. However, the only ache he was feeling was the one in his groin that signaled a need so great his body was all but trembling inside.
Who was this woman and where did she