Seduction, Westmoreland Style - Brenda Jackson [43]
Moments later he slowly released her mouth and she glanced up at him, her nostrils filled with his sexy scent. “That’s the welcome I needed, Casey,” he whispered against her moist lips. “The kind I thought about getting once I returned.”
“I hope I didn’t disappoint you,” she said, smiling up at him.
He gave her one of those rare McKinnon smiles and said, “You could never do that.” Then, moments later, he asked, “Have you given any thought to what I asked you to think about while I was gone?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
She knew what he wanted to hear. “I accept your terms, McKinnon. There will be no expectations, only enjoyment.”
He stared at her for a long moment before nodding. “And you can live with that?”
“Yes, I can live with it.”
He nodded. “How did you get here tonight?”
“Cole came and picked me up.”
McKinnon was glad it hadn’t been Rick. “I’ll let your brother know that I’ll be taking you back to the ranch when the party’s over.”
“All right.”
He leaned down and kissed her again before reluctantly pulling away. “I guess we need to go back inside now,” he said in a tone that said he would rather stay out there with her. “And I guess it wouldn’t be a good thing for me to dominate all your time tonight,” he said, taking her hand.
“I wouldn’t complain if you did.”
A long, tense silence stretched between them and Casey wondered what he was thinking. She had no idea but she knew what was on her own mind. She would make sure that after tonight the thought of putting distance between them again would be the last thing McKinnon would want to do.
She intended to turn the tables on him and hit him with a little taste of seduction—Westmoreland style. Never before had McKinnon thought the distance between his parents’ home and his was so long. It seemed like he’d been driving for hours instead of minutes. He should feel relaxed, relieved by Casey’s decision for them to get involved in a no-strings-attached affair, but all he felt was tension and a deep desire for the woman sitting beside him in his car.
After arriving from the airport he had parked his truck and decided to take his toy, an ‘85 Corvette he’d restored a couple of years ago. It provided him a type of horsepower that Thunder couldn’t. He took a quick glance sideways at Casey. She hadn’t said much since they’d left the party.
When they had gone back inside after their kiss, it hadn’t surprised him that Rick Summers had tried seeking her out again, determined to stay glued to her side. But she had handled Summers by saying that as the guest of honor she had to spend time with everyone and not just him. McKinnon smiled, remembering that that hadn’t gone over too well with him and he’d eventually left.
He also remembered the second dance he and Casey had shared nearly at the end, which had prompted them to leave the party as soon as they could without raising any eyebrows. The moment he held her close to him, knowing that later that night she would be his in every way that a woman possibly could, had set his loins on fire. And from the way she had shivered in his arms, he’d known she’d been acutely aware of his aroused state.
He inhaled deeply and instead of the fragrance of bitterroot, the purplish-pink flower that was abundant in the area, his nostrils were filled with the scent of Casey and he became drenched in a wave of intense yearning. He wanted her. He wanted her in a way he had never wanted any woman before, including Lynette.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he felt a deep ache in his gut. On the flight back to Montana from D.C., he had thought about the moment when he would hold her in his arms, kiss her…make love to her. He hadn’t been able to stop his mind from going there. Whenever he closed his eyes he thought of her in his bed, burying himself inside of her so deep that—
“I was really happy to see Spencer come in,” she said of Durango’s brother who made his home in