Dreams of Forever. Brenda Jackson

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Dreams of Forever - Brenda Jackson Mills & Boon Kimani Arabesque

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time. There was something about having a sexual ache for a woman you couldn’t have that made a man want to burn the rubber off his tires. Damn, he was lucky that one of Sheriff Richard’s deputies hadn’t been parked along one of the back roads with a speed trap.

      Once McKinnon opened the door to his home, he headed straight to the kitchen for a beer. A half hour later, after enjoying his beer and taking a cold shower, he slipped between the crisp white sheets intent on getting a good night’s sleep. But before he could close his eyes his mind went to the past and the reason he was sleeping in this bed alone.

      He had purchased this land when he’d turned twenty-five knowing when he had bought the ranch house that he would live in it alone. He’d also known he would be one of those men who died a bachelor—refusing to take the risk of ever having a wife and children—once he’d found out about the rare bone disease his biological father had passed on to him.

      When he’d met Lynette, he had fallen for her and thought she had loved him just as much—so much that he had felt comfortable for the first time to ask a woman to move in with him, as well as to reveal the full extent of his medical history to her. He had all intentions of asking her to marry him if she was willing to accept him the way he was. But no sooner had he told her, less than forty-eight hours later, she was gone. She left a letter that merely said she couldn’t marry a man who would deny her the chance to be a mother.

      He received another letter from her almost a year later, apologizing for her actions and letting him know that she had met someone, had gotten married and was expecting his child.

      He cursed as he threw the covers back, got out of bed and slipped into his jeans. It was nights like this when he needed to escape and become part of the wild. He knew when he walked into the barn and Thunder saw him, his friend would understand. That horse was smarter than any animal had any right to be. Whenever they rode, it was man and beast together, flying in the wind in a way his Ford Explorer couldn’t touch. At least not within the confines of the law, anyway.

      Tonight he needed speed which was faster than lightning and, in his mind, swifter than any speed boat. Tonight he needed to put out of his mind the one woman he needed to keep at a distance, and stop imagining how she would feel in his arms, how that ultra-fine body of hers would feel molded tight against his. But what was really driving him insane was fantasizing about her taste and how delicious it would be on his tongue.

      Damn. Casey Westmoreland was getting under his skin—and that was something he’d sworn not to let another woman do again.

      * * *

      Casey stood at her bedroom window and looked out, clearly seeing the mountains beneath a moon-kissed sky. Shivers ran all through her body at the memory of being in McKinnon’s presence tonight, sitting across from him at the dinner table trying to concentrate more on her food than on him.

      And then there was the part of the night when she’d helped Savannah clear the table and he’d handed her his plate. The moment their hands had touched she felt a heated sensation shoot from the bottom of her feet all the way to the top of her head. There were also moments she had caught him staring at her like she was the dessert he would get after the meal. Just thinking about that deep look of desire she’d seen in his eyes had heat flaring up inside her and no matter what she did, there was nothing she could do to smother it.

      She’d tried sleeping but her thoughts wouldn’t let her be. Heat would start in her stomach and move lower down her body while visions of McKinnon Quinn danced in her head. How could she concentrate on getting Prince Charming trained when something else dominated her thoughts?

      Knowing going back to sleep was out of the question, she slipped into a robe after deciding to take a walk outside. There was a courtyard connecting the cottage to the main house that was surrounded by the flowers Henrietta had planted. It was a beautiful night and she wanted to stand underneath the Montana sky and smell the flowers.

      She had been standing outside in the courtyard for well over fifteen minutes and was about to go back inside when she heard a sound. Her heart jammed in her ribs and her breath caught. She blinked, not sure if she was seeing things or if McKinnon was actually there within ten feet of her, sitting bareback on his huge black horse and staring at her.

      She blinked again and watched as he slowly slid off Thunder’s back and she realized it wasn’t a hallucination.

      She shook her head to clear it before her gaze latched on to his. She felt her breathing grow shallow as he slowly moved closer.

      The moon overhead cast enough light on him and his devastatingly good looks to make her appreciate that she was born a woman. His hair hung loose and wildly around his shoulders, and he was bare chested and wearing jeans. His body was solid, muscular and for a moment her breath caught because he reminded her of a savage beast. But she knew that the man coming toward her—although private and reserved—was no threat to her. At least not physically. Emotionally was another matter.

      “What are you doing out here?” he asked in a deep, husky drawl that sent goose bumps spreading all over her body. He came to stand directly in front of her.

      From the moon’s glow she could see the intensity in the depths of his dark eyes. “I couldn’t sleep and decided to come out here for a spell,” she said as her hands automatically went to the belt around her robe to tighten it, fully aware that her meager clothing offered no protection against the heat she saw in his eyes.

      “You should go back inside,” he said in a gruff voice.

      “I was about to,” she said, taking a gathered breath. Then she asked, “What are you still doing up?”

      At first she thought he wasn’t going to respond, but then he said, “I couldn’t sleep either and decided to ride Thunder.”

      “Oh.” She inhaled deeply. “Well, I’d better go back in. Good—”

      “I know the reason why neither of us can get any sleep,” he said, taking a step closer to her.

      She stared up into his dark eyes. “Do you?”

      “Yes. We need this.” And then he wrapped his arms around her and lowered his mouth as his lips captured hers. Then he placed his hands on her hips, molding her body firmly to the fit of him. Without wasting any time, his tongue found hers and he heard her gasp at the contact and immediately knew…at thirty years of age, Casey Westmoreland had never been properly kissed before. And damn it all to hell, he planned on doing the honors, here and now.

      His fingers tightened at her waist the moment he deepened the kiss, taking what appeared no man had before, an in-depth taste of her. Being inside her mouth felt soothingly warm and downright delicious. A wave of sexual need entrapped him when she parlayed each stroke of his tongue and his brain cells started to overload. At that moment nothing else mattered except having Casey in his arms, kissing her, devouring her this way.

      One part of his mind said he needed to stop, but another part said to continue what he’d started since this would be the last opportunity he would have to do so. Tomorrow she officially began working for him and he would have to be sensible. He would not become romantically involved with one of his employees—especially this one. She was a Westmoreland for heaven’s sake! But tonight he wanted as much insensibility as he could get.

      A sigh escaped from her mouth into his and he continued on and on, mating their mouths, exchanging their breaths, sharing their taste. His tongue moved all over her mouth, in every direction, sucked, licked, nibbled, dabbed, all while performing some of the most inherently erotic things he’d

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