The Westmoreland Legacy. Brenda Jackson

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to take a peek inside but the doors were bolted up. She wondered if Gavin would allow them to keep their excavation equipment stored there. Since he seemed in a pretty good mood this morning, it might be a good time to ask. “And about that old barn?”

      “What about it?”

      “I’m going to need a place to store my heavy equipment, like the loader backhoe and tractor, for the excavation. May I use the old barn?”

      He glanced over at her and she could imagine what he was thinking. Why should he do anything to help her when he was counting on her to fail? He surprised her when he said, “Yes, you can use the old barn.”

      She smiled. Since he was being so generous she decided to go for the gusto. “There’s also a smaller building next to the barn. I understand it used to be the old bunkhouse.”

      “What about it?”

      “May I use that, as well? I’ll need somewhere to test soil samples and such.”

      He looked at her again. “Are you trying to take advantage of my kindness, Layla?”

      “Yes, I guess I am, Gavin.”

      A husky chuckle escaped his lips. “At least you’re honest. Yes, you can use that old shack, as well.”

      “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      She didn’t say anything for a minute as they drove. “Make a left turn at the next tree and drive another couple of miles,” she said. “You can park in the clearing next to the stumps. I’ve marked the exact spot where we’ll be digging.”

      “Okay.”

      The rest of the drive was done in silence. She was glad when he finally brought the truck to a stop a short while later.

      * * *

      Gavin drew in a deep breath. With his hands still gripping the steering wheel he stared straight ahead at the view out of the windshield. He needed to get his bearings. Everything about Layla was getting to him. The way she looked, her scent, the way she wore her hair. The way that same hair had blown in the wind when his truck whooshed across his property.

      “I can tell you miss coming here.”

      Did she make that assumption because of the way he was still sitting here, trying to keep his mind and body under control? Yet, she was right. He had missed coming here.

      “Yes. As a kid I used to come to this area a lot. There’s a huge lake not far from here. It separates our land from the Lotts’ property and it’s on the Lotts’ land. But that didn’t mean anything to me. Not even the no-swimming-allowed sign Sherman Lott had posted. I used to sneak into the lake and go swimming as a teen every chance I got. On a good day I would swim for hours without getting caught.”

      “And on a bad day?”

      He chuckled. “On a bad day Sherman Lott would call my grandmother and report me for trespassing.”

      She lifted a brow. “Honestly? He would actually call and tell on you?”

      “All the time. He didn’t like anyone swimming or fishing in that lake. But I had a lot of years of good fishing there, as well.”

      He smiled, remembering how defying Mr. Lott had pleased him immensely. “Time to look around. But before we get out there’s something we need to do.”

      She lifted her brow. “What?”

      “Kiss. More than anything, I want to kiss you, Layla.”

      * * *

      Layla couldn’t believe he’d said that. Kiss? Hadn’t they done that enough already? Not that she was counting but he’d kissed her twice. Why was he going for three? Why was she hoping that he would?

      “Kiss me?” she asked, softly, hoping he didn’t pick up on the yearning in her voice.

      “Yes, kiss you. It’s either that or talk you into my truck’s backseat.”

      She nibbled on her bottom lip. “And you think doing that will be easy?”

      “No, but it will be worth all the effort I plan to put into it. So how about unbuckling that seat belt and leaning a little over here? I promise it will be painless.”

      Being painless, Layla thought, was the least of her worries. “Haven’t you gotten enough? Of kissing me?” she asked, studying the look in his eyes.

      “No, I haven’t gotten enough, so lean over this way. Let’s engage in something pleasurable.”

      The urgency in his voice was so intense, it sent shivers through her. She knew they shouldn’t kiss again. Doing so would lead to assumptions on his part that she’d rather he not have. But she’d had a hard time forgetting how pleasurable their last two kisses had been. Both times his tongue had stroked hers to a feverish pitch, until she had greedily responded.

      Frustration spilled from her lungs in a sigh and with very little control left, she unsnapped her seat belt and leaned closer to him. In spite of her misgivings, she was prepared to give him the kiss he wanted because it was a kiss she wanted, as well.

      He leaned in to meet her and their lips touched. On her breathless sigh, he slid his tongue inside her mouth and began mating with her tongue. She felt his intensity all the way to her toes.

      She wrapped her arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist. They were sitting in his truck, kissing like oversexed teenagers. Like they had nothing better to do and all day to do it. How crazy was that? But the insanity was lost as she tasted him. He tasted primitive, untamed and wild with lust. How could she detect such a thing in a kiss? Was this a warning that she should back off? That Gavin Blake would be the one man she couldn’t ignore?

      The latter gave her pause, but not enough to stop her tongue from mingling with his. Not enough to refrain from following his lead when he deepened the kiss. Not enough to stop the moan escaping her throat.

      Layla knew then that she was a goner.

       Seven

      Gavin greedily devoured Layla’s mouth. Never before had any woman escalated his arousal to such a state. And never had any woman made him want to kiss her each and every time he saw her.

      Every bone and muscle in his body throbbed with a need for her that went beyond desire. Intense heat curled inside of him, threatening his control. And the one thing he was known for was control. So why were his brain cells faltering under the onslaught of such a delicious kiss? Why was his body making urgent demands for him to make love to her right here in his truck? Damn. What could he say?

      Nothing. He was totally at a loss for words, which was a good thing since he didn’t have time to indulge in any. He preferred using his mouth for this kiss. He intended to get his fill. But a part of him wasn’t sure he could ever get his fill of Layla. He saw her and he wanted her. That wasn’t good. He had to get control of his body and of the situation. And he needed to do so now.

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