A Wife for a Westmoreland(3)

By: Brenda Jackson

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.


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 come from? Was he supposed to know her? Why was she enticing him to do things he shouldn’t do? A part of him felt that he wasn’t in his right mind, but then another part didn’t give a damn if he was in his wrong mind. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted her. He could eat her alive and wouldn’t mind testing that theory to see if he really could.

He shifted his body a little and brought her in the center of the bed with him. He lifted his mouth only slightly off hers to whisper huskily against her moist lips, “Damn, Puddin’, you feel good.”