The Westmoreland Legacy: The Rancher Returns (The Westmoreland Legacy) / His Secret Son (The Westmoreland Legacy) / An Honourable Seduction (The Westmoreland Legacy). Brenda Jackson

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The Westmoreland Legacy: The Rancher Returns (The Westmoreland Legacy) / His Secret Son (The Westmoreland Legacy) / An Honourable Seduction (The Westmoreland Legacy) - Brenda Jackson

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Eleven

      The moment Layla walked up the porch steps her nerves tightened. Was she doing the right thing? Was following her desires rather than common sense the best move for her tonight?

      Her gaze swept over at the man at her side. Gavin had been quiet since parking his truck. Now he was walking her to the door and she knew it would be her decision how tonight would end. He wouldn’t even kiss her good-night unless he knew for certain more came with that kiss. Was she ready to give him more?

      They had been careful not to touch all night. Holding hands would have led to heaven knows what. The sexual chemistry between them was that explosive. She had been aware of everything about him all evening. His breathing pattern, the sexual vibes that poured off him and the heavy-lidded eyes that stared at her.

      Even now, there was this sensuous pull of desire between them. She was aware of it and she knew he had to be aware of it, as well. That consciousness was a slow roll of longing in her stomach and a throbbing intensity at the base of her throat. Never had she felt such primal awareness of a man before.

      When they reached the door she turned to him. Although his Stetson shaded his eyes, she felt his stare. She inhaled his masculine scent. The man was a living, breathing sample of testosterone at its best.

      Drawing in a deep breath, Layla tightened her hands on the shoulder straps of her purse. “Dinner was wonderful. So was the movie. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a musical.” His taste in movies surprised her. Last time it had been a chick flick and tonight a musical.

      “Glad you enjoyed both.”

      She smiled up at him. “I did. Thanks for asking me to go. To be with you.”

      He nodded. “I can’t think of any other woman I’d rather have been with tonight, Layla.”

      His words sent profound happiness spiraling through her. He could have spent the evening with Tammy, who was almost six years younger, and to Layla’s way of thinking, a lot prettier. But she was the one he’d asked out. “Thank you for saying that.”

      “It’s the truth.”

      When she didn’t respond, she heard Gavin draw in a deep breath before saying, “I know you have a lot of work to do so I’ll let you get to it.”

      He was giving her an out. He wouldn’t pressure her. He’d stated days ago where he stood. If things between them escalated it would be up to her.

      Swallowing deeply, she asked, “Would you like to come in for a drink, Gavin?”

      He held her gaze for a long moment before smiling. “Yes, that would be nice, Layla.”

      As she opened the door to let him in, Layla knew it would be a whole lot better than just nice.

      * * *

      Gavin followed Layla inside. Removing his Stetson, he placed it on the rack by the door. She walked ahead, toward the living room and his groin tightened with each sinfully erotic sway of her hips.

      “Beer or wine cooler?” she asked over her shoulder.

      “Beer.” He closed the front door. He actually needed something a lot stronger. A straight shot of bourbon might do the trick, to stop his testosterone from overloading. But then he figured there wasn’t a drink on earth that could deaden his desire for Layla. It went too deep. He could actually feel a throb in his veins. Drawing in a deep breath he inhaled her scent.

      “Here you are,” she said, reentering the living room.

      He recalled the last time she’d offered him a beer and what had occurred when their hands touched. What he’d felt. Would she avoid touching him this time? There was only one way to find out.

      When she handed him the bottle, he deliberately held her gaze. Intentionally, he rubbed his finger against her hand. Hearing her sharp intake of breath, he’d gotten the reaction he’d hoped for. Unlike the last time she didn’t wipe her hands on her jeans.

      Still holding her gaze, he opened the bottle and took a huge gulp. He then lowered the bottle, licked his lips and asked the same question he had asked that night. “Want a sip?”

      He’d given her an opening. Instead of retreating like she had before, she covered the distance separating them. “Yes, I want a sip.” But instead of taking it, she said, “I’d rather sip it from your lips.”

      He lifted the bottle to his mouth. Then she took the bottle from him and placed it on a nearby table before leaning up on tiptoes to place her mouth over his. With a boldness he hadn’t expected from her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and began sipping the beer from his lips.

      Gavin felt light-headed and hot at the same time. Never had a woman stirred such passion within him. Never had any woman made his erection throb to this point. Layla was full of surprises and she was driving him insane with need.

      As their mouths mated, he wrapped his arms around her. He wasn’t surprised by how fluidly her body aligned with his. Sensations swamped his body. He knew from the way she was tasting him that tonight would not end with this kiss. The mating of their mouths was just the beginning. Tonight they were on the same page.

      He swept her into his arms. Breaking off the kiss, he whispered against her lips, “I’m taking you to bed, Layla. If you have a problem with it, you need to say so now.”

      A seductive smile touched her lips. “I don’t have a problem with that, Gavin.”

      Sexual excitement rushed through his veins as he moved quickly toward the bedroom.

       Twelve

      When Gavin placed Layla on the bed she looked up at him and saw eyes filled with intense desire gazing down at her. She’d meant what she said about going to bed with him. But he might not feel the same way after she said what she had to say.

      “We need to talk first, Gavin.”

      He pulled her sweater over her head. “Okay, I’m listening.”

      Was he really? Or was he concentrating on undressing her? “A while back you asked me when I last did this. Do you remember that conversation?”

      Her sweater was off and his swift hands went to the front clasp of her bra. Within seconds he had her breasts tumbling free. She watched his eyes get smoky as he stared at her nipples, which hardened as he watched. When he brushed against one with a feathery stroke of his fingertips, she drew in a sharp breath.

      “Yes, I remember that conversation,” he said in a husky voice, stroking her other breast as if fascinated with its size and shape. “What about it?”

      Layla had to think a minute to remember the conversation. His hands were driving her insane. And when he began stroking her nipples in earnest, it created a throbbing ache in her center. She couldn’t help but moan.

      “Layla?”

      “Um?”

      “What

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