What a Westmoreland Wants

He drew in a deep breath, thinking that if anyone would have told him five years ago that he would be here in this place and in this frame of mind, he would have been flabbergasted. His mother suggested that he have patience. He’d shown just how much patience he had for the past three years. Now it was time to make his move.

“Callum?”

The sound of her voice made him turn around. He swallowed deeply, while struggling to stay where he was, not cross the room, pull her into his arms and give her the greeting that he preferred. As usual, she looked beautiful, but there was something different about her this evening. There was a serene glow to her face that hadn’t been there before. Had just two days in Australia done that to her? Hell, he hoped so. More than anything, he wanted his native land to grow on her.

“You look nice, Gemma,” he heard himself saying.

“Thanks. You look nice yourself.”

He glanced down at himself. He had changed out of his suit, and was now wearing jeans and a pullover shirt. She was wearing an alluring little outfit—a skirt that fell a little past her knees, a matching top and a cute pair of sandals. He looked at her and immediately thought of one word. Sexy. Umm, make that two words. Super sexy. He knew of no other woman who wore her sexuality quite the way Gemma did.

His gaze roamed the full length of her in male appreciation, admiring the perfection of her legs, ankles and calves. He had to have patience, as his mother suggested and tamp down his rising desire. But all he had to do was breathe in, take a whiff of her scent and know that would not be an easy task.

“What are you drinking?”

Her words pulled his attention from her legs back to her face. “Excuse me? I missed that.”

A smile curved her lips. “I asked what you’re drinking.”

He held up his glass and glanced at it. “Wine. Want some?”

“Sure.”

“No problem. I’ll pour you a glass,” he said.

“No need,” she said, walking slowly toward him. He felt his pulse rate increase and his breathing get erratic with every step she took.

“I’ll just share yours,” she said, coming to a stop in front of him. She reached out, slid the glass from his hand and took a sip. But not before taking the tip of her tongue and running it along the entire rim of the glass.

Callum sucked in a quick breath. Did she know how intimate that gesture was? He watched as she then took a sip. “Nice, Callum. Australia’s finest, I assume.”

He had to swallow before answering, trying to retain control of his senses. “Yes, a friend of my father owns a winery. There’s plenty where that came from. Would you like some more?”

Her smile widened. “No, thank you. But there is some thing that I do want,” she said, taking a step closer to him.

“Is there?” he said, forcing the words out of a tight throat. “You tell me what you want and, as I said yesterday and again today, whatever you want I will deliver.”

She leaned in closer and whispered. “I’m holding you to your word, Callum Austell, because I’ve decided that I want you.”





Ten




Gemma half expected Callum to yank her down and take her right there on the living room floor. After all, she’d just stated that she wanted him, and no one would have to read between the lines to figure out what that meant. Most men would immediately act on her request, not giving her the chance to change her mind.

Instead, Callum deliberately and slowly put his glass down. His gaze locked with hers and when his hands went to her waist he moved, bringing their bodies in close contact. “And what you want, Gemma, is just what you will get.”

She saw intense heat in the depths of his eyes just seconds before he lowered his mouth to hers. The moment she felt his tongue invade her mouth, she knew he would be kissing her senseless.

He didn’t disappoint her.

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