Deliciously Erotic Romance Collection (The Blue Room, Frosted Midnight, Haunted Halloween, Frosted Midnight)

by Breena Wilde

  “I need you,” I whispered gruffly in her ear.

  “Not as much as I need you,” she whispered back.

  We dropped the mics and ran from the bar.

  As soon as we reached the elevator, I kissed her deeply. She kissed me back and undid my jeans.

  “Here?” I asked, sure there were cameras. Most hotels had them.

  “Fuck yes, just keep my ass covered.”

  That’s all I needed to hear. I turned her so her back was against the wall and lifted her, pulling her lace thong to one side as I rammed into her. She moaned and I covered that moan with a kiss.

  This would be quick. I was almost drunk and she was so fucking hot, but I wanted her to come. I held her up easily with one hand. With the other I massaged her clit. She made the hottest fucking moan-mewl I’d ever heard.

  “Link, I'm coming. Fuck, I’m coming!” she cried, biting my lip.

  I slammed my cock into her wet pussy once, twice, and came. “Fuck,” I whispered against her neck. “You’re a minx. An amazing minx and that’s what I’m going to call you. My Minx.”

  She smiled at me shyly. “I like that.” She kissed me softly. “Thanks for making this the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

  I wrapped her tightly against me. “Minx, you and me are going to have many, many more, got it?”

  She nodded sweetly and a single tear trailed down her cheek. “You make me feel like the sexiest woman in the world.”

  I kissed her neck. “That’s because, to me, you are.”

  The End…

  Frosted Midnight

  Break, break, break,

  On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

  And I would that my tongue could utter

  The thoughts that arise in me

  And the stately ships go on

  To their haven under the hill;

  But O for the touch of a vanish’d hand,

  And the sound of a voice that is still. ~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson

  I heard beeping. People were shouting. After a time the noises went quiet and I saw a white light at the end of a long tunnel. It beckoned and I started walking toward it. With each step the tunnel lit up. Hands reached out to touch me. I felt like I should be scared, but I was filled with love, so much love that I started to cry. The emotions filled me to overflowing and I longed for more. When I reached the end of the tunnel people stood there waiting. Somehow I knew them. One elderly woman reached out and embraced me.

  “Welcome home, Willow dear.”

  I was nineteen when I fell in love. It was that once in a lifetime kind of love, the kind of love that hit hard and didn’t let go, the kind where all I could do was think about him. Only him. Always him.

  The shine in his hazel eyes and the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle when he smiled. Or the way his dark hair fell into his face when he leaned down to kiss me.

  His name was Austin Merrick. He wasn’t a boy from my quaint tourist town of Bandon, Oregon. He was a man: tall, muscled. He wore cowboy boots, jeans that sat low on his tapered hips, t-shirts, and a cowboy hat that looked older than him. He had a square jaw, straight white teeth, and a mouth that could do things to my lips and my body…

  He was my first time, my every time. From the moment I met him I knew I’d never have to look at another man again.

  I still didn’t know why he came to Bandon, but from the moment he walked into the library where I worked, came over to my desk, and asked for my opinion on a good book, I was a goner. Yes, it was love at first sight. And I didn’t regret it.

  He was in my life for eight weeks, eight flawless weeks. And then he left. Without a good-bye. Just rolled over, kissed me tenderly, walked out of my bedroom, and never came back.

  My heart broke that day, splintered into a million pieces. After that I got sick, couldn’t keep down food. Nine months later, I had a baby girl.

  Everything changed when she was born. My heart healed. Her tiny body, her sweet cries became my first real truth. Her life, her love, her needs superseded mine.

  It was strange to think in terms of another person’s life, to gauge my own merits and accomplishments based on someone else, and maybe it wasn’t right, maybe that wasn’t how I was meant to live. But I was responsible for her. Without me she would die. I knew that. Accepted it.

  I named my daughter Emma Austin after my grandmother and her father. Emma taught me what it meant to love and be loved unconditionally.

  I never told her father. He never contacted me, and I didn’t look for him. What happened to us happened all the time in tourist towns. An out-of-towner fell for a local. When summer ended, one would leave the other behind. With Austin I thought things would be different. I believed it when he told me he loved me. But that was the way summers in tourist towns went. It wasn’t his fault I believed him. It was mine.

  So, for the last five months I raised Emma on my own. Well, with the help of my mom and my three older sisters.

  Emma was spoiled rotten, which was good. My life was good. Busy. Between work at the library, taking care of Emma, and spending time at the hospital and with family, there wasn’t time for anything else.

  In two days Emma would celebrate her first Christmas.

  I was content with the life I had. Settled even. At the ripe old age of twenty.

  At least, that was what I believed until I received an email.

  From him.

  Austin Fucking Merrick.

  I read the email again.

  Willow,

  I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been a while since we’ve talked. Maybe you don’t even remember me. We met at the library a couple of summers ago. We dated, kissed, and more.

  Anyway, I left without saying good-bye or giving you a reason.

  That was wrong.

  You deserve an explanation.

  Can you meet me on Christmas Eve at midnight? At our spot on the beach. Near the caves, remember? I’d like to explain, see you again. I’ve missed you.

  Please say yes.

  Yours,

  Austin

  There were several things about the email that irritated the hell out of me. The first was the implication that I might not remember him, as though I fell in love with guys all the time or something. The second was that he emailed me out of the blue, after almost fifteen months, asking me to meet him.

  It surprised me he knew my email. I hadn’t given it to him. While we were together we hadn’t exchanged email addresses. He’d never given me his number. I hadn’t given him mine. It was a discussion that never came up. Austin met me after my shift at the library each evening. We spent every free moment together. I never even introduced him to my family. I hadn’t wanted to share him. And it’d seemed he hadn’t wanted to share me either.

  “Ugh!”

  I flipped off my computer, picked up my hot cocoa from the kitchen counter, and took a sip. Emma was down for the night and I had—

  A soft knock sounded against my door. My heart sped up because my first thought was that it was Austin. But I quickly calmed down. It couldn’t be. My mom and sisters were supposed to come over tonight. We were going to wrap presents while we watched It’s a Wonderful Life and drank my mom’s secret eggnog.

  I peeked through the blinds. My sister, Heather, waved. I smiled and opened the door. “Hey ladies.”

  Their arms were stacked with presents. I took one from each as I kissed them on the cheek.

  “Oooh, I like your tree, Will,” Liv said with mock sarcasm.

  “Har-de-har.”

  “So glad I brought some things to spruce it up.” Sara opened her paper bag and pulled out some red tinsel.

  “Emma asleep?” my mom asked.

  “Yeah. She went down a while ago.”

  “Awesome. It’s time for eggnog.” Heather took a bottle of rum and peach brandy from her paper bag. “You picked some up, right?”

  “Of course.” I opened the refrigerator, grabbed the eggnog, and set it on the counter.

  My
mom got mugs from the cupboard and started making the drinks—lots of apricot brandy, lots of rum, and a little bit of eggnog.

  “So how long have you been in your jammies?” Liv sat at the table in front of my computer and turned it on.

  “Hey. You’re just jealous because you’re still wearing regular clothes.” I glanced down at my pink cotton pajamas and matching slippers. “These are comfy.”

  Are these new curtains?” Sara asked. She always noticed the homey touches, like the curtains or the new slipcover I put over my couch or the pinecone wreath I’d made for the front door.

  “Yeah, I made those the other day. You like them?”

  “I do. The pale green gives all the white in your kitchen a pop of needed color.”

  “I think so too.” Mom handed me a mug of secret eggnog—the secret was there was hardly any eggnog—and I brought it to my lips. It smelled strong and, as much as I wanted to get wasted and forget the email from Austin, I couldn’t overdo it. I had to stay sober for Emma.

  My mom seemed to understand what I was thinking. “Don’t worry. I won’t drink—much. I’ll keep an eye on Emma.”

  “Thanks, mom.” She meant well, but my mom enjoyed her alcohol as much as my sisters and me.

  Heather snorted. “Yeah, between the four of us, we’ll keep her safe.”

  I took a sip. It was thick, sweet, and burned.

  “Good, right?” Sara asked.

  I giggled. “Really good.”

  “So you going to tell us about this email?” Liv asked, pointing at the screen.

  “What email?” Mom asked, leaning over Liv’s shoulder. Sara and Heather joined in.

  I let them read it because they were my family. I would’ve showed it to them eventually anyway. I needed them.

  Mom finished first. “You’re going to meet him, right?”

  Heather, Liv and Sara turned to see my answer.

  I shrugged. “Do you think I should?” I took a drink. “It irritates me that he thinks I might not remember him. Like I could forget.” I gritted my teeth.

  “I forgot who I slept with last week,” Sara said with a shrug. “But then between my ex and my three kids, I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast.”

  I chuckled.

  “If you don’t go, I will. I want to hear what his explanation is,” Liv said, gulping down her drink and holding it out for my mom to refill it. Her cheeks were rosy. She was the lightweight in the family as well as the lush.

  “I agree,” Sara said, walking into my tiny living room and winding the tinsel on my bare Christmas tree.

  My mom and Heather nodded in agreement.

  “I’d go see him, Willow dear. He needs to know about Emma, take some responsibility.”

  That made me angry.

  “Why should he get to swoop in, pretend to be the hero, and have any part of her life? He missed the midnight feedings, the colic, the first time she smiled.”

  My mom pushed the thick auburn curls off my sweaty neck. “Is it fair that he’ll miss anymore? Especially with… you know… it’d be nice if Emma had her father around.”

  I sighed. Tears filled my eyes. “What if I tell him and he doesn’t want her? What if he rejects us, me, again? I-I don’t know if I can handle that.” I shook my head, sat down on my Christmas-themed slipcovered couch, and put my head in my hands.

  My mom sat beside me. Sara sat on the other side. Heather and Liv kneeled in front. I took in each of them, so grateful for my family. We’d survived without a father. Emma would survive too, especially if she kept these amazing women in her life.

  “If he makes that decision, then he makes that decision. Then we’ll know for sure he’s a fucking idiot and we can move on,” Liv said, pulling me into a hug.

  “I’ll stay tomorrow night and watch Emma. Then you won’t need to worry,” my mom said, wiping her eyes.

  “Thanks mom.” I sniffled.

  Heather stood. “’Kay, we’ve got wrapping to do and a movie to watch.”

  “Right, let’s get to it,” Sara added.

  After my mom and sisters left I read the email from Austin again. And again. And again. I also finished off my eggnog and had another. Not the smartest move with all of the medication I was taking, but Austin had thrown me for a loop. At two-thirty in the morning I responded:

  Austin,

  I’ll be there, but no funny business.

  W.

  Then I proceeded to wish I could take it back. How could I assume there’d be funny business? Of course there wouldn’t be. He left me, like, got out of my bed, walked out, and never came back. Why would I think he’d want more of that… more of what I had to offer? The stupid words ate at me until I finally fell asleep on the couch.

  It seemed like moments later Emma’s cries woke me. I went into her little room. As soon as she saw me, she stopped crying and smiled.

  That was all it took to change my mood. It didn’t matter if men didn’t find me attractive. It didn’t matter if the man I still loved rejected me. What mattered was the sweet girl smiling up at me from her crib.

  I picked Emma up and changed her. Then we went into the kitchen where I sat her in her bouncy chair, made her bottle, and turned on the coffee.

  When the bottle was warm, I went into the living room and sat in my favorite old wooden rocking chair. It was the same one my mother had rocked me in when I was a baby.

  “You ready, Emma girl?” I cooed.

  She smiled and drank. Content. Her eyes held mine and I wondered if she knew, if she understood how much I loved her, how I would do anything to protect her and keep her safe and happy. Anything within my power, anyway.

  “Positive thoughts, Will,” I told myself in a soft voice.

  Emma let go of the nipple and smiled as though encouraging.

  “I can’t die, right? I have too much to live for.”

  I spent the day with Emma. We went to the beach because she loved to listen to the birds and the rushing sound of the ocean waves coming onto the sand. Then we ate lunch at a restaurant that overlooked the beach—well, I ate clam chowder and Emma napped.

  When we got back to our cozy house my mother was there, her Rover parked in front. She got out and helped me get Emma out of the car.

  “Did you forget your cell phone again?”

  I shrugged, unsure about whether I had it or not.

  My mother clucked her tongue. “What if something happened? What if there’d been an emergency?”

  I was suddenly tense. I knew it was her job as my mother to worry, but it was irritating the crap out of me. “Nothing happened. I’m fine. Emma is fine. We’re fine.”

  My mom nodded, knowingly. “Yeah, you seem fine,” she said sarcastically.

  I shrugged out of my coat and put my purse on the table.

  “Emmy. Jemmy. Whemmy. Did you have fun with mommy?” my mom asked in a high voice, unbuckling Emma from her seat. I watched Emma smile. She squirmed and lifted her coat-covered hand. My mom pulled it from the thick coat-sleeve and kissed it. “I bet you did. Yes I do. Did mommy take you to the beach? Mommy loves the beach, doesn’t she?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Emma needs a bottle. Do you want me to make it and then you can feed her?”

  Mom waved me away. “Go take a shower. Emma and I have things under control.”

  I kissed Emma on the cheek and patted my mom’s arm. “Thanks.”

  The heat from the shower warmed my toes but, even after fifteen minutes, my body wouldn’t stop shivering. It wasn’t because I was cold. It was because I was excited, scared, afraid, terrified, and… hopeful. I wanted to see Austin. Every part of my body, heart, and soul ached for him, for the way he talked with a slight accent, the way he made me feel… up until he left, I’d never been happier.

  And for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why he’d left, what I’d done or hadn’t done to make him take off without saying good-bye or giving me a reason. That was the worst part, not knowing.

  Finally, after m
ore than a year, I’d get the opportunity to see him again. To see his face. Just thinking about it, about him, made my pulse beat faster.

  “Willow.” My mom knocked on the bathroom door. I’d been in the shower a long time and I knew she worried. I’d put her through a lot, especially in the past year. “Are you okay?”

  I sighed and turned off the water. “Yes, mom. Thanks. I’m fine.”

  “No rush. Emma and I are going to bake some cookies.”

  I smiled into the towel. “Sounds delicious. Her favorite is oatmeal, just in case you’re wondering.”

  “Uh huh, just like her mom, I guess.”

  I wrapped the towel around me and wiped the steam from the mirror. “Yep.”

  I heard her footsteps as she padded down the carpeted hallway back toward the kitchen.

  I stared at my reflection, the brightness of my green eyes, the auburn tinge to my eyebrows and lashes. My cheekbones were high and protruded. It was a side effect of the drugs I was on—lack of appetite. A month after I had Emma I’d started on them. My doctor hoped they would slow the cancer so that I could have six months to recuperate after giving birth.

  Weight loss had been the only negative consequence I’d suffered. My reflection didn’t reveal the havoc making its way through my body. That would change when I started chemotherapy next month. My doctor had advised me of the side effects. Nausea. Fatigue. Hair loss.

  What will Austin think of you then?

  The thought made my heart hurt. Why did he have to come back now? What could he possibly tell me that would make up for what he did?

  I’d already resigned myself to live the remainder of my life without him. Our eight weeks together had been amazing, the best experience of my life. And my daughter—I couldn’t have asked for a better gift than Emma. Austin was my great love. I knew I’d never feel for another person the way I felt for him, and I was okay with that. No matter what happened, I’d experienced real, true love. I’d been given a child. I had a job and family who adored me.