Dreams of Forever: Seduction, Westmoreland StyleSpencer's Forbidden Passion

by Brenda Jackson

  “Okay, what’s wrong, Chardonnay?” he asked, his voice low, strained and concerned.

  For a moment she couldn’t reply. What could she say? I’m falling in love with you and I refuse to do so and will do whatever it takes to make sure it doesn’t happen? Instead she shrugged. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  She decided to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. “Avoiding you in what way?”

  “You haven’t been back to the villa.”

  Did the man expect her to seek him out and tumble in his bed every chance she got? Her stomach knotted upon remembering his ferocious sexual appetite and concluded that yes, he probably did.

  “I’ve been busy,” she responded, both angry and frustrated. They hadn’t been alone but a few minutes and already she could feel heated tension sizzle in the very air they were breathing.

  “Come to me at midnight,” he whispered in a voice tinged with throaty sexuality. He moved closer and drew her to him.

  She didn’t think of pulling back and although she was trembling inside, she did manage to say, “No.”

  “Yes,” he countered hotly. And then his mouth swooped down on hers before any further protest could come from her lips. The moment his tongue entered her mouth, she remembered, she relented and she surrendered. Every nerve in her body began quivering under Spencer’s skillful tongue. The hand he had placed at her waist wasn’t helping matters. It only pulled her closer, making her more aware of his powerful heat.

  When he finally lifted his head, he had to tighten his hold to keep her from falling. “I won’t go to sleep until you get there,” he whispered hotly against her lips.

  She gazed at him thinking that he wouldn’t be going to sleep after she got there, either. There was no doubt in her mind that he intended to keep her awake and busy.

  He leaned down and took her lips in his again and then she wasn’t thinking at all.

  * * *

  Donnay couldn’t sleep.

  She had tossed and turned most of the night. Her body felt hot. It was sensitive. It was experiencing a need to get physical. She kicked back the bedcovers, got out of bed and began pacing the floor. Spencer Westmoreland had gotten under her skin and as much as she tried she couldn’t get him out. As a result, she was torn between what she wanted to do and what she knew she should. She had underestimated Spencer.

  The man was turning out to be the exact opposite of what she’d assumed he would be. Of course there was a brashness about him she wouldn’t even try to discount. But there was also a sense of caring. Her grandfather was proof of that. It wasn’t just the time he’d spent with him, but also the fact that he had shared plans of the expansion with her grandfather when he really didn’t have to. And then he’d gone further by giving him peace of mind that the vineyard would remain in the Russell family. She had begun seeing another side of Spencer, and with it she felt a grudging respect for him and everything he was doing to be fair to her family.

  And she felt something else, something she could no longer deny. Love. She loved him. She sighed. She would marry him, bear his children and make him a good wife. And she hoped and prayed that one day he would grow to reciprocate her love.

  A glance at the clock on the nightstand told her that midnight was approaching. She wondered what Spencer was doing. Was he in his bed thinking about her? Waiting on her? Wanting her?

  That thought triggered chills that traveled down her spine. She took a few steps over to her closet and moments later she was slipping out of her nightgown and pulling a skirt and blouse over her head, not bothering with a bra and panties. The outfit was simple, easy to get out of and even a bit sexy. A few moments later, after easing her feet into a pair of loafers, she opened her bedroom door and quietly slipped out.

  * * *

  Spencer refused to sleep.

  He was feeling restless and positively filled with a need that only Chardonnay could quench. He glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was getting close to midnight. What if he’d pushed too hard and she didn’t come? He breathed in deeply, refusing to consider that possibility.

  He had spoken to his mother earlier and had given her his news. As expected, she had asked questions, but nothing had stopped her from being elated. Another one of her sons was getting married and she was tickled pink. He knew by tomorrow morning the entire Westmoreland clan would hear about it. He would get calls, probably more questions—especially from his brothers and cousins who knew how his mind operated—but that thought didn’t bother him. Like he’d told his mother, Chardonnay was the woman he wanted and the woman he intended to marry here in the vineyard in two weeks.

  A sense of accomplishment rolled over him as he thought of having the things that were most important to him. The most significant one at the moment was Chardonnay. He thought of her often, even times when he didn’t want to. What he’d told her mother at dinner was the truth. The reason he wanted to rush into marriage was that he didn’t want to wait…mainly to make her his.

  Deciding if she were to come to him he preferred her not making the trip from the main house through the vineyard alone, he slid out of bed and slipped into the jeans and shirt he had on earlier. His skin felt hot to the touch and he wondered if the same heat consuming his body was consuming hers. When he’d kissed her earlier that night, he had felt her response, had tasted her desire, inhaled her heat.

  He wanted it.

  He needed it.

  His mind was becoming mentally shaken, his body physically addicted. They had made love one night, numerous times over, and that was all it had taken to reduce him to a man who stayed royally aroused around her. A man who spent most of his day dealing with frustrated lust. As he left the bedroom and began walking down the stairs his mind was filled with one thing and one thing only. Making love to Chardonnay.

  Moments later he was closing the front door behind him as he made his way down the path. It was dark and the only light was from the moon overhead. The night air was cool and he wished he had thought to grab a jacket. It had rained earlier, right after he had returned home. It hadn’t rained a lot, but enough to dampen the earth, supplying a distinctive aroma of wet grass, blooming plants, thickening vines and the earthy fragrance of freshly turned soil.

  Feeling his fingers go cold, he hooked them in the pockets of his jeans. He suddenly sharpened his gaze when he heard a rustling sound. Thinking it was Chardonnay, he was about to call out to her then stopped after seeing it was her mother instead. Then before he could blink, another figure—that of a tall, muscular man—stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight in front of her.

  Spencer’s protective instincts kicked in and his senses immediately went on full alert. Then he watched as the man pulled Ruth Russell into his arms and kissed her, and it was quite obvious she was kissing him back.

  Spencer lowered his head, not wanting to intrude on such a passionate moment between the couple who, like him, were meeting for a midnight rendezvous. Moments later he glanced up in time to see them disappear into the shadows heading in the direction of the empty gardener’s cottage.

  Not that it was any of his business, but he wondered if Chardonnay knew that her mother was involved in an affair. If she didn’t, she definitely wouldn’t hear about it from him. When it came to secrets, he was the king of discreet. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder about the man’s identity. Was he one of the workers at the winery?

  Fairly certain the couple was halfway to their chosen destination by now, he began walking again. The night was quiet so he easily picked up the sound of footsteps coming his way. He stopped and focused his gaze. And then he saw her.

  She hadn’t seen him yet so he leaned back against an oak tree to study her features in the moonlight. Beautiful. And then his body began thrumming at the realization that a
lthough he was fairly certain she hadn’t wanted to come, desire had driven her to seek him out.

  Something gave him away. Possibly the sudden intake of his breath when he saw her outfit. It was one of those fit-and-flare skirts and a jersey-knit top with billowy sleeves. The way they clung to her body sent a surge of adrenaline pumping through his veins. She stopped walking and stared at him and he pushed away from the tree and strolled toward her.

  He had spent the last three hours wondering if she would show up, and now that she was here, his already hot blood was boiling even more at the thought of how they would spend the rest of their time together. He wasn’t used to a woman taking control of his thoughts like she was doing.

  “You came,” were the only words he could fix his mouth to say at that moment, he was so filled with unleashed passion.

  “Yes, I came,” she whispered, and the sound sent his insides to quivering. He battled the urge to take her then and there, to let their naked bodies roll in the damp earth, get tangled in the vines and—

  “It’s cool out.”

  He saw her rubbing her arms and quickly realized that like him she hadn’t worn a jacket. He smiled a tight, restrained smile. Anything else would cause the erection to burst in his crotch. “Then let’s go to my place where I can warm you. But that’s not all I plan to do to you tonight, Chardonnay.”

  Her incredible gray eyes gazed deeply at him when she asked in a soft, sexy voice, “What else do you plan to do to me?”

  She had a right to ask. She had a right to know. “Taste every single inch of you. Let my fingers stroke you. Let my body make love to you in all kinds of ways and various positions.”

  He took a step closer to her. “Will you let me do all those things to you again?”

  “Yes.”

  Pleased she hadn’t hesitated with her answer, he dipped his head and tasted her lips, savoring his own special brand of Chardonnay. He lifted his mouth, deciding he needed to take her to a place more private before he lost control. The last thing he wanted was for her mother to come upon them like he had on her earlier.

  “When you leave my bed tonight I want you to be totally and thoroughly convinced that I am the only man you’ll ever want and need.” And then he swung her up into his arms and began walking back toward his villa.

  He had gotten halfway there and couldn’t go anymore. The feel of her in his arms, the way her breasts were pressed against chest, the scent of her in his nostrils, the way she had tucked her hands beneath his shirt to keep them warm, all of them increased his sexual craze. He couldn’t move another inch without the threat of his aroused body exploding then and there.

  Inhaling deeply, he placed her on her feet. She gazed at him for a moment and then as if understanding what he couldn’t put into words, she took his hand and said, “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

  She led him through a thicket of low-hanging branches, parting several grapevines that blocked their way, to guide him to a grassy path. There at the end of it was a glass-enclosed summerhouse, sitting amidst vines, ferns, a cluster of oak trees and palms. She glanced at his expression. He didn’t even try to hide his smile.

  “Gramps had it built years ago for my grandmother, a place where she could get away, sew, read and rest. She hasn’t used it much over the years. It’s climate controlled and should be nice and warm inside,” she said, opening the door. He followed her inside and then she locked it behind them. It was nice and warm on the inside and the window blinds assured complete privacy.

  After she turned on a lamp, he glanced around but only for a second. His gaze immediately returned to her when he saw the frown bunching her brow. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Um, nothing, I guess. It’s just that no one ever comes out here but me to read and take a nap on occasion. However, it seems the bedcovers have been changed since the last time I was here.”

  Spencer had an idea who had changed the bedcovers but kept his thoughts to himself. “Does it matter?”

  She met his gaze and shook her head. “No. Nothing matters but this moment. With you.”

  Something tugged deep inside of him. He could not deny the sensation even if he wanted to. Even if he didn’t fully understand it. He opened his arms to her and she took the few steps to walk into them. Instinctively she lifted her head and at the same time he lowered his, covering her lips.

  A ferocious ache overtook him and he whispered words against her lips, not sure what he was saying and at the moment not caring. The only thing that mattered to him was the ravenous desire running rampant through his entire body. She arched against him and his senses went into overdrive.

  Like a man with no control, he stepped back and tugged her blouse over her head. The moment he saw her braless, he closed his hand over her breasts, reveling in their shape, their firmness and how right they felt in his hands. He then leaned down and kissed them, satisfying his hungry need to taste her.

  But he soon discovered it wasn’t enough for him.

  He dropped to his knees in front of her and tugged her skirt down her thighs and almost swallowed his tongue when he stared her feminine mound smack in the face. She hadn’t worn panties.

  He leaned forward to do his own taste test as his nose nuzzled the curls at the apex of her thighs, taking in her scent, letting his nostrils absorb her aroma just seconds before his tongue thrust deep inside her while grabbing hold of her bottom, pulling her closer to the fit of his mouth. He became lost in heavenly bliss while his tongue stroked, caressed and probed, refusing to let up or let go. He heard her moans, felt the torture on his shoulders when her fingernails dug into them, but he refused to release her from his grip.

  This was his Chardonnay and he intended to enjoy it to the fullest. Even when he felt her body explode beneath his mouth he held tight, needing to fully taste the very essence of her.

  It was only after the last tremor had left her body that he drew back from the intimate kiss. He glanced up at her, met the dazed gray of her eyes and a smile curved his mouth as he licked his lips. “Best Chardonnay I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting,” he whispered before standing and sweeping her naked body off her feet and into his arms.

  He carried her over to the daybed and placed her on it and then quickly began removing his clothes. It had started raining again, a downpour that beat against the rooftop and glass walls. The air seemed to thicken with the fragrance of flowers, grapes and sex. He inhaled it. He licked his lips and could still taste it. He was suddenly filled with a sexual rush, a need to mate to an extreme he never thought possible. He wanted her. Damn, how he wanted her.

  He moved back toward the bed. Instead of wrapping her arms around his neck like he assumed she would do, she grabbed hold of his shaft and stroked the head of his erection with soft fingers. In his already sexually glazed mind that was the last thing he needed but exactly what he wanted. Her touch was eliciting sounds from his throat, and he felt himself weaken, giving in to the demands of his body. The demands of her hands.

  He felt her touch all the way to his bones, felt himself harden even more beneath her fingertips. She mentally fractured any thoughts he had, igniting a fuse within him that could explode any minute. And when she pushed him back on the bed and took him into her mouth, he clenched his jaw to keep from hollering. He gripped the bedcovers as her mouth began ravaging him, sapping him of any strength while at the same time seizing the air in his lungs. Sensations swamped him and he gave himself up to them, and to her.

  Good God! What was she doing to him? He had to stop her before he was stripped of everything within him. A deep moan escaped his lips when he shifted and pushed her on her back, locking his thighs over hers, trapping her beneath him. Before she could mutter a single word of protest, he entered her and they both released moans of pleasure at the same time, just seconds before they began spiraling out of control.

&nbs
p; He reached under her and lifted her hips as he thrust in and out of her, and with each stroke she arched her body to meet him, creating a sensuous blend of perfect harmony.

  “Incredible,” he murmured, just seconds before dipping his head to her mouth, laving her lips with his tongue from corner to corner before inserting his tongue into her mouth. Below he felt her inner muscles clench him, milk him, attempt to pull everything out him, and she succeeded.

  “Chardonnay!”

  His body seemed to explode in tiny pieces as his seed spilled deep inside her, overflowing within her and overwhelming him. Never before had he given so much to any woman and with no regrets and no restraints. That thought became logged in his brain but he refused to dwell on it now. The only thing he wanted to think about was how he felt inside her and how his body was still throbbing from the effects of the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced.

  Their gazes connected and he felt like he was sinking in quicksand. He clung to her, afraid if he let go that would be the end of it…of them.

  As he pulled her shaking body closer to him, more sensations shot through him and at that moment, he couldn’t fathom a life without the woman in his arms.

  * * *

  Donnay came awake to discover Spencer gazing down at her. She blinked, wondering how long she’d slept. The last thing she remembered was coming apart in his arms while he was buried deep inside of her, feeling the heated essence of him shooting to all parts of her.

  “I have something for you,” he whispered huskily.

  His words made her study his features. “What?”

  “This.”

  And then she felt him slip something onto her finger, and she knew what it was. Her engagement ring. The huge diamond shone brightly in the moonlight and Donnay’s breath caught. It was exquisite, the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen.