Brenda Jackson The Westmoreland Series Books 16-20

by Brenda Jackson

  A world of absolute pleasure began closing in on him, engulfing him with an urge to move. He cupped her bottom closer, so he could delve deeper, and with slow, steady strokes, he began staking his claim on her. Every time he slid inside of her and every time he slid out, he felt a sharp pull on his sanity, an increased dose of pleasure and a fortitude to drive into her the same heated, silken force that was driving him.

  It worked. She began moving with him, joined him, clenched him, milked him to the point he felt everything was getting pulled out of him. He locked his legs with hers and then, while buried deep inside of her, he began flexing his lower body in a way to get as close as he could get, sinking into her deep, mating with her hard, thrusting into her rapidly. And when she screamed his name, he threw his head back when the same infused pleasure that ripped through her, tore through him.

  And the name that he moaned from his lips was hers. The body he was exploding inside of was hers. And the lips he knew he had to taste at that very moment were hers.

  Everything was about her, as well as her ability to make him feel things no other woman could make him feel was artfully and enticingly being transmitted in a satisfying way. Emotions he couldn’t define, and not just on a physical plane, energized his muscles and made his hunger for her that much more intense. Making love with her wasn’t just good, it was brutally good. So good he actually felt whipped. His senses shattered in a thousand pieces and, as sensations continued to race through her and spread into him, he felt a sense of fulfillment he knew that he could only find with her.

  * * *

  Pam wondered if she would have the ability to ever move again, and wasn’t sure if she even wanted to. Even now she was wrapped in Dillon’s arms, their legs entangled, their arms entwined and their bodies still intimately connected. She felt drained, worn out, deliciously sated in a way that almost made her purr.

  The way he was draped across her, she didn’t have to move her head to look into his eyes, since he was there, staring at her with the same amazement and sexual fulfillment in his eyes that she felt in her body. This was what Iris had wanted her to experience at least once in her life and now she was glad that she had. This had been the ultimate in sexual satisfaction, the most gratifying, mind-blowing passion.

  She had used muscles she hadn’t ever used before, and she’d found every part of him, both working and nonworking, to have a definite purpose. She could only lie in awe, while her heart tried to slow down from beating so fast in her chest.

  She felt cherished, protected and desired. Not only in the way he was looking at her, but at the gentle caress of his hand moving on her thigh, like he still had to touch her in some way, even in the aftermath of shared sexual bliss.

  Pam moved her lips to say something but no words came out. It was just as well, because he leaned up and captured her mouth in his. She raised her hand to his cheek, needing to touch him, and to feel the movement of his mouth on hers beneath her palm.

  When he finally broke the kiss she felt perfectly contented and when he finally released her, slowly pulled out of her to go to the bathroom, she felt a profound sense of loss. She watched for him to return and when he appeared, lounging naked in the doorway, his long, muscular legs braced apart, she thought his stance had a masculine sexiness that almost made her drool. Her gaze moved all over his body and the main thing she couldn’t help but notice was that he was fully aroused again.

  Seeing him in that state did something to her own body—made her feel alive, wanton, desired. His gaze scorched her, as he slowly scanned her entire body, lingering on her legs before moving upward to the juncture of her thighs. And there his gaze stayed, transfixed for a spell, and she felt the heat of it on her womanly core. She forced down a deep, shuddering breath when he began moving toward her and she couldn’t help noticing the swell of muscles in his broad shoulders and the wide expanse of a strong, solid chest.

  He paused by the bed, giving her a totally male smile while he proceeded to put on another condom. She watched the entire process, unable to force her gaze away. A heavy silence hung over the room.

  And then she sat up in the bed and opened her arms to him. He moved, placed a knee on the bed, went into her arms and planted his mouth on hers. And as he adjusted their positions to ease her back deep onto the bed, the thought that continued to run through her mind was that tonight was their one and only time together. She desperately wished it could last.

  * * *

  A few hours later, they stood fully dressed together in the foyer of the academy. It was a little past midnight and time for them to part. Together they had stripped the bed and changed the linen. Then she had made them a cup of hot chocolate and they’d sat down at the kitchen table. Not much was said between them, as there was nothing left to be said. They were both deep in their own thoughts.

  He had Jay Novak’s journal back at the hotel, so he couldn’t use the excuse of visiting her place to read it. But he wanted to see her again. Be with her again. In fact, he intended to be a part of her life.

  He mentally scrambled to make sense of that decision and released a deep breath when he finally did. She had touched a part of him in a way he could not walk away from. She might have assumed this was a one-night stand, but as far as he was concerned that was not the case.

  He didn’t harbor any guilt that he was no better than Raphel in cutting in on another man’s territory. If nothing else he had discovered, before even kissing her that first time, that she really didn’t belong to Fletcher; at least not the way a woman should belong to the man she was about to marry—heart, body and soul. Totally and completely.

  Now was still not a good time to bring up that fact and ask why she would even consider marrying a man she didn’t love, a man who hadn’t introduced her to passion. At first he’d thought he could get beyond that curiosity, deciding it was strictly her business. But that was no longer the case. Now it was his business, as well, mainly because as far as he was concerned Fletcher Mallard was not the man she needed.

  He was.

  Some may consider him thinking such a thing as arrogant, possibly even a little egotistical, and they probably would be right in their assumption, he thought. But something had happened tonight in that bed, something he couldn’t dismiss. Every time he went inside of her, he’d felt more than just sexual pleasure. He’d felt a sense of belonging. He’d felt a connection he could not explain and a deep, abiding need to claim her.

  As far as he was concerned he wasn’t taking anything away from Mallard, because it was quite obvious that the man didn’t have a claim on her anyway. The only stamp Mallard had on her was the ring she had placed back on her finger. And, although he didn’t particularly like the sight of it there, he would tolerate it for now.

  His gaze moved from her hand to her face. She was staring out into the night. It was time to leave but neither was making an effort to do so. He knew he couldn’t mention to her what he was thinking. For whatever reason she had decided to marry Mallard. He had news for her, but it wouldn’t be delivered tonight. He would give her time to make her own decision about things—namely in his favor. And if she didn’t, then he would intervene. He was the one who had introduced her to passion and he would be the one who would continue on with her lessons.

  In the meantime, he would learn what kind of hold Mallard had on her to make her agree to a loveless and passionless marriage.

  At that moment she looked up and met his gaze and he knew, whether she realized it or not, she was now his. That conclusion sent an immediate jolt to his nervous system, stimulated his brain and made every muscle in his body feel a strength of resolve he hadn’t felt in a long time. He needed time to think, but for now, he’d just accept things the way they were.

  Silently, he reached out and began buttoning up her coat. Surprised, she blinked, then smiled up at him while studying his face. “Thank you. You take such good care of me.”

  He smiled back, deciding not to tell her the reason he did so was becaus
e she belonged to him. Instead, he said, “You’ve been too hot to suddenly have to get cold.”

  She laughed and then reached out and placed her arms around his neck. “Yes, I have been hot tonight and all because of you. You’re special, Dillon. I’ve known you for only a short time, but it seems like I’ve known you my entire life.”

  He understood what she was saying, because he felt the same way about her. He’d never been a man who would lay claim to a woman after sleeping with her just one time. But with Pam, things were different. He didn’t know how, he just accepted that they were.

  He felt his lips curve into a smile as he asked, “I never believed in that paranormal stuff, but do you think we could have been together in another life?”

  He watched her brow furrow and then moments later the answer was in her eyes. “No,” she said. “Nothing would have obliterated from my mind the kind of passion I felt tonight had I shared it once before with you,” she said and smiled.

  “What I shared with you tonight is something I’ve never shared before with any man. So there has to be another reason why I feel so free and uncontrolled with you.”

  He felt the same way. There had to be a reason why he felt free and uncontrolled around her as well. But whereas she might accept what they had shared tonight as a casual affair, he could not. If she figured he would just walk away, leave Gamble and head back to Denver without a second glance, then she was wrong. Dead wrong.

  And to show her how wrong she was, he raised a hand to her face and caressed her cheek. “Tonight was very special to me, Pam. I’ve never met a woman quite like you.”

  He could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn’t know what to make of his words. That was fine because soon enough she would. He lowered his head and captured her lips in a slow yet greedy fashion. He felt her shudder beneath his mouth and when she tightened her arms around his neck, he deepened the kiss.

  He wanted her. And he would have her. As far as he was concerned, she was already his. That was the Westmorelands’ way. The ability to recognize his or her true mate when he encountered her or him, although they might initially try to deny it. He would be the first to admit some Westmorelands were stubborn, and he had discovered that trait wasn’t confined to just the Denver clan. He’d been told that the Atlanta Westmorelands were just as bad.

  He could now admit that he had made a mistake with Tammi in thinking she was the one. He felt certain there was no mistake with Pam. And for him to be so sure of that so soon might be a mystery to some, but not to him.

  He slowly and reluctantly withdrew from her mouth, but for the moment he refused to release her from his arms. “I’m walking you out to the car and then I’m following you home to make sure you get there safely,” he whispered against her ear.

  She pulled back and a cautious look appeared on her face. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I do.” For reasons you can’t possibly imagine, he thought. But he simply asked, “Ready to go?”

  “Yes, but…” She studied his face. “Tonight…”

  She didn’t continue, but nervously moistened her top lip with her tongue, an action that had him forcing back a rush of desire.

  “What about tonight?”

  “Tonight was tonight. Tomorrow remains the same. I’m engaged to Fletcher.”

  He looked down at her. A shaft of light from the fixtures in the parking lot came through the glass door and slanted across her face, making her look so beautiful he felt his heartbeat increase. He silenced the response he really wanted to make—one that clearly stated her engagement was evidently in name only and regardless, she was his, signed, sealed and so deliciously delivered. His stomach clenched just thinking about their lovemaking.

  Her expression indicated she expected him to understand and to accept her words. There was no use telling her he wasn’t about to do either. Instead, he knew he would do what he had to do. The first thing was to find out why she had gotten engaged to a man like Mallard in the first place.

  So to bide his time, he pushed a strand of hair back from her face. “I know,” he said.

  Those two words were all he was capable of saying to her right now. “Let me walk you to the car.”

  She held back, refusing to move an inch as she studied his face for a moment. “You don’t need to come to the house tomorrow, do you?”

  He swallowed deeply. She was trying to cut ties now. She didn’t have any regrets about tonight but she knew she couldn’t continue. “No, I’ll take the next couple of days and stay at the hotel and relax and read the journal. If you need me for anything, you know where to reach me.”

  She nodded and then moved toward the door. He walked by her side. He would give her two days and if she didn’t come to him, engaged or not engaged, he would be going after her.

  Eight

  “We don’t understand, Pammie. Why did Dillon stop coming for dinner?”

  Pam glanced across the dinner table at Nadia, knowing how her baby sister operated. Nadia would ply her with the same question until she got what she considered a satisfactory answer. Pam wasn’t sure that her response would be satisfactory, but judging by the three pairs of eyes staring at her, Nadia wasn’t the only one waiting to hear what she had to say.

  Pam could make it easy on herself and place the blame on the three of them by claiming they were the ones who’d scared him off, and that Dillon had been fully aware of their little matchmaking schemes at dinner and preferred to have no part of it. But telling her sisters that would not be the truth. Dillon had said on more than one occasion that he enjoyed her sisters’ company and that they reminded him of his female cousins back in Denver. He had taken their shenanigans in stride and hadn’t seemed bothered in the least.

  “Pammie?”

  Nadia’s soft voice pulled her back to the moment and she glanced across the table. Before Pam could open her mouth to answer, Paige spoke up in a disheartened tone. “He doesn’t like us any more than Fletcher does, does he?”

  Pam was taken aback by her sister’s assumption. “That’s not true. Dillon really likes the three of you and enjoys dining with us, but he has our great-grandfather’s journal and has been doing a lot of reading over the past couple of days. You must not forget the reason he came to town in the first place.”

  She took in a deep breath before continuing. “And as for Fletcher, you girls are wrong about him. He does like you.”

  “Then why is he planning to send us away after the two of you get married?” Nadia asked with a belligerent look on her face.

  Pam was surprised by her sister’s question. “Where on earth did you get such an utterly absurd idea? Fletcher is not planning to send you away after we get married.”

  Nadia’s frown deepened and a worried look lit her eyes. “He is, too. He told Gwyneth Robards’s father that he is, and her father told her mother, and Gwyneth overheard them talking and she told me.”

  Pam frowned. Gwyneth Robards was Nadia’s best friend. Her father, Warren Robards, owned a slew of sporting goods stores across the state. He and Fletcher were good friends. Pam was not one to believe in gossip. She wished Nadia wouldn’t do so, either. “Nadia, there’s no way Fletcher would have said something like that.”

  “So, are you saying Gwyneth’s father lied?”

  Pam frowned. “What I’m saying is that Gwyneth apparently misunderstood what she heard from her parents’ conversation. Again, there’s no way Fletcher could have said that.”

  What she didn’t add was that he knew why she was marrying him—to save her family home, to secure a future for her sisters and to keep the family together. Even if they were to lose their home, her sisters would return to California with her or they all would remain in Gamble and make do.

  “Getting back to Dillon, Pam,” Jill said. “I don’t care how much reading he has to do, he has to stop and eat sometime. Did you invite him to dinner the last three nights?”

  Pam nervously bit down on her bottom lip. She hadn’t invi
ted Dillon to dinner the first night because they had planned their secret meeting that night at the academy. And she hadn’t invited him the past two nights because she had needed time to get herself together after their night of passion.

  “No,” she finally said. “Like I said, Dillon has a lot to read. He said as much the last time he was here.”

  “So you will invite him back?”

  Pam’s stomach knotted. Again, three pairs of eyes focused on her. “Yes, I’d invite him back but it’s up to him whether he would come. Like I said, there’s a reason why he came to Gamble and it’s not to keep us entertained.”

  As if satisfied with her answer, her sisters resumed eating their dinner and the conversations then revolved around what had happened at school that day. She was glad their interests had shifted to other things, although hers remained on Dillon. Every time she thought about that night and all the things they’d done and shared, she would get all flushed inside, her body aching for a repeat. There was no doubt in her mind that if she were to see Dillon now, her body would weaken. If he were to make an attempt to kiss her, or even remotely suggest he wanted to take her to bed again, she would not be able to resist him.

  She hadn’t talked to him or seen him since that night. He had left a message for her on the answering machine yesterday indicating he’d decided to change hotels and had checked into one in Rosebud. Unlike Gamble, the neighboring city of Rosebud had a number of cell towers in close proximity so there was always a signal. She understood that he would want to stay connected to the outside world since he was a businessman.

  He had provided the name of the hotel, which was only a ten-mile drive from Gamble. She had thought about calling him back to let him know she’d gotten the message, but had eventually talked herself out of it. She knew she would see him again, because eventually he had to return the journal. She was hoping that by then she wouldn’t be thinking so much about how his kisses had felt on her lips, or just how good he’d felt going into her body. And then, how she’d felt when he was inside of her. She tightened her thighs together at the memory.