HOT MEN: A Contemporary Romance Box Set

by Ashlee Price

  I glanced out to see a figure in the water out in the distance, a great whale breaching the surface, dangling a moment before falling back into the sea. Then I noticed another, not far from the first. They were a pair, I was certain, as the first two we’d seen months before had been a pair. But it can’t be the same two whales, I told myself, it just couldn’t be possible.

  Could it?

  They seemed to be dancing, celebrating life, even celebrating our union from afar. I couldn’t help but smile. One thing I knew for sure was that there was much more to life than appeared at a glance. That dream I’d had, of a man I hadn’t met, had proven to be a premonition. The rest, other visions, had merely been that. They’d been wrong, and so they hadn’t come true. I looked at Langdon in a moment of silent reflection, sharing a wordless smile, and I couldn’t help but think, Langdon is true. Langdon is right. We’re right together.

  And when they’re just right, dreams really do come true.

  ~The End~

  Rekindled

  A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

  By Ashlee Price

  Prologue - Callie

  "Woohoo, sounds like Jeff is finally gettin' some!" the boys who'd sneaked through the dense brush in a crouch verified.

  The dancing bonfire flames had burned down to a steady glow that spring night. We had gorged on burnt hotdogs roasted on severed sticks, marshmallows sandwiched between graham crackers... and beer. Lots of beer. Most of us were in couples, and some had already drifted off to darker, more private nooks in the woods. A few of the single guys lurked in thickets, waiting to jump out at the first sign of a naked breast or the sound of a lowering zipper. They leapt out with a bellow and the ensuing screams pinpointed the girls who routinely "put out." I wasn't one of them.

  Woodford was a dry county, making it illegal to even be in attendance. That fact alone gave everyone a small thrill of excitement. If Bull Thornton, the former football hero now turned local cop, found us, we'd be spending the night in the county jail.

  There weren't any strangers in the group; we'd all been through school together, at least through high school and many all the way back to kindergarten. We knew the subtleties behind arcane jokes, what buttons to push to tease one another, and the hierarchy which determined who had the final say-so for any group activity.

  All except for me. I was the rogue, the unpredictable piece of the group puzzle, and that put me in a vaunted position, despite my five-foot-two-inch, eighty-nine-pound stature. Most of my power was borrowed from Michael, my boyfriend of three years, captain of the football team, and president of every other club or organization recognized as worthwhile by our inner circle. But even Michael let me have my way, although I was never sure whether it was due to his impeccable, old-money manners or the fact that he had yet to bed me.

  Don't get me wrong. I chose my battles wisely, deferring to him on any issue that didn't directly interfere with what I wanted. I liked to call it a balance of power, but I think it was more of a balance of my pussy.

  The bonfire had a special significance. It was probably the last one we'd ever all share - we'd graduated earlier that evening. Michael had, of course, been class valedictorian, and he was headed for whichever university was lucky enough to land him and his quarterback skills.

  I, on the other hand, was the daughter of a widowed horse trainer, and although in the Bluegrass Region of Kentucky that could be a lucrative profession, Dad's love for certain underdog horses seemed to take precedence over financial aspirations. Maybe he related to them.

  "C'mon, Callie," Michael pleaded, working off my bra as we lay in the distant shadows furthest from the fire. No one would bother us - they knew Michael wouldn't allow it. He'd brought a U of L stadium blanket, and although it was as red as a matador's cape, the others pretended to ignore us. He had my top off by then, and the blanket was over us and his varsity jacket below me. I could smell his cologne. The mere scent of him always made my nipples hard, and despite my diminutive size, I was generously proportioned in that area. We'd gotten to this base before, many times, but never any further. I lie. There was the time I'd touched his crotch and he'd jumped as though hit with electric current. He'd unzipped himself and pleaded with me to suck him. I was no stranger to sex, having seen many a stallion mount a mare. Once excited, the male never backed down, and to me, Michael was as dangerous as a randy stallion.

  What is it he sees in me? I'd wonder. He could have his pick; tall blondes and leggy brunettes threw themselves before him on a regular basis. He'd never taken any of them, as far as I knew. I was fairly sure that had any of them coerced him into their bed, they would have made sure it wasn't kept secret - he was too big of a catch. I had asked him about that once, and he'd told me he liked me because I was feisty, small and not full of bullshit. I was real, he'd said, and I was content with that because it had all been true. His parents thought otherwise, though.

  Michael had left the field on homecoming night and headed straight for me, pushing aside others waiting to congratulate him on his winning 55-yard Hail Mary throw. His dad had been one of them. I'd been close enough to hear their conversation.

  "Where you goin', son? This is your big chance, buddy - you're the king!" his father had berated him. "The press wants to talk to you and there's half a dozen recruiters here. This is your big chance."

  "Don't need them," Michael had responded and continued in my direction.

  "No, no, I'm not talking money, son. I'm talking about power, about connections."

  "You're talking about your own ego, Dad. I'm leaving with Callie."

  "With who? You mean that little ol' gal whose daddy can't hardly keep her in breeches? Oh, Michael, son... I'm pleading with you. Don't throw yourself away on something anyone can have. You're special."

  "She's special, Dad. See you tomorrow," Michael had concluded the conversation and put his arm around me to shield me from the press and anyone, including his dad, who might say the wrong thing.

  We'd gone to our special place that night. It was a huge dogwood tree that bloomed each spring on the edge of a pond at the back of his dad's acreage. The aged horses were put out to graze there, having earned a peaceful, bluegrass retirement as their trophies lined Mr. Shannon's study shelves.

  Now, Michael threw his jacket on me, zipping my bared skin inside, and half-carried, half-tugged me toward his Porsche.

  "Y'all aren't leaving, are you?" burst out Clayton, Michael's best friend, as he ran up to the car.

  "Too crowded here," Michael answered and shifted the car into gear.

  "Aw, c'mon, Michael. It won't be any fun without you, buddy," Clayton tried again.

  "Plenty of fun in those twelve-packs," Michael told him. "See y'all!" he called into the sparks of the night, and we roared off, but not before Clayton slammed his fist on the trunk of the car in disappointment.

  I laid my head back as the satin lining of Michael's jacket brushed over my excited nipples, drawing little bolts of sensual lightning downward. I wanted Michael more than ever, but I wanted to stick to my values. Michael was bound for great things - me, not so much. I knew that I'd already compromised my heart, but I was drawing the line there.

  The headlights flared over the field and I knew he'd brought us to our special place. The dogwood was in bloom and it seemed magical. Michael came around and handed me out of his car, grabbing the stadium blanket and tossing it over his shoulder. I spotted my original clothes in a pile on the back seat.

  Although it was springtime, the evenings hadn't yet committed to summer and there was a dewy fog hugging the ground. It looked like we were walking through clouds. Our tree was waiting for us, a little broader than the previous year and loaded with blossoms. I'd decided that their soft pink would always be my favorite color; it was as though it had been created especially for me.

  "C'mon, Callie," Michael softly urged me, pulling at my hand. This part of the pasture hadn't yet been surrendered to the horses, so it wasn't mown and there were gopher
holes to stumble over. Michael threw me over his shoulder and I buried my face in the stadium blank, my heart beating furiously.

  We arrived at the base of our tree and he set me down, spreading the blanket and kissing me until my knees gave way and we were both on the blanket. Michael's hand reached toward me, unbuttoning his varsity jacket with ceremony befitting a painting's unveiling. "Jesus, they're beautiful," he breathed in the dim light granted to us by the moon. I was a little proud of my breasts, I'll admit. I'd inherited my mother's white blonde hair and wore it long. My brown eyes matched hers, also. Some people said I looked like a sprite, or a fairy, and while that might have been flattering to some, to me it sounded like a description of a young child. Maybe that was why no one took me seriously.

  Michael's hands were around my waist, his thumbs smoothing the soft skin beneath my breasts. He always treated me with reverence, and I loved that about him. Some girls said it meant he loved me and that other girls could pick up on this and it kept them away. They knew he'd never pay them a moment's attention.

  "Michael, you know what you do to me when you do that..." I mewled with the beginning of an objection.

  "Of course I know. What do you think you do to me?" he rationalized, and I knew he was right.

  "Michael..." I began, but he put a finger to my lips.

  "Don't, Callie. Don't ruin it, huh? So much is ending tonight. Don't make us end, too."

  "What do you mean?" I asked. "Are you breaking up with me?"

  "Am I...? Oh, God, how could you even think that? Of course I'm not breaking up with you. I want to be with you always. Don't you know that by now, you silly little thing?"

  I tilted my head, drawing myself upright to be more authoritative. "You know you can't control that. Your dad is still in charge. You're going to college, and I'm not. I'll stay here, and work alongside my dad in the barns. You? You'll be throwing Hail Mary passes to your receiver and the fans will be on their feet declaring you the next best thing to Jesus himself."

  "Oh, c'mon..."

  "No, really."

  "I love you, Callie."

  That always melted my heart. I loved him so, but I couldn't do anything to show my feelings or risk losing my virginity. It wasn't that I didn't want Michael to take it - I just didn't want him to feel obligated and to hold him back from the great things I knew were in his future.

  He had the jacket completely unbuttoned now and laid back the fabric so that my chest was open to the moonlight. "Oh, God," he whispered, his hands on me as if I were something precious and rare. "Callie, please, just this once... let me see the rest of you?"

  "No!"

  "Callie, dear God, please let me see how beautiful you are. That can't hurt, just to look. I'll let you see me."

  I closed my eyes, fighting the need to feel him. I knew if I did as he asked, I'd be lost for good.

  He leaned forward and got his hand inside my waistband, his thumb working at the brass button of my jeans. His mouth was on my breast, pulling at the nipple in a repetitious movement that made me feel so wet I wondered if I'd lost it.

  I felt a release as the button was breached, and his long quarterback's fingers were now slowly lowering the zipper.

  "Michael, no..." I protested again. "You know I don't want to."

  "It's only to see you, sweetheart."

  I thought about Michael leaving for college soon, and how I'd remain behind. If seeing me was a tiny incentive for him to remain faithful, maybe it was worth it. I no longer protested.

  The zipper down, he slid his index finger inside the waist of the jeans and then inside my white lace panties. It travelled downward, and then he retreated, his hands lifting me slightly as he pulled the jeans, and then my panties, completely off. The night air hit me and my nipples stood out. He lifted me effortlessly until I was standing and then spread my legs so I was straddling his thighs.

  He drew in his breath, and I wasn't sure whether it was looking at me, the anticipation of what he thought might happen, or the idea that he'd talked me into going this far.

  His fingers ran up the inside of my upper thighs, opening me to his view. I cupped my breasts against the cold, unaware that it only excited him more. The fingers went further, parting my labia lips. His breathing sounded raspy as he slowly leaned forward and put his mouth there! His tongue emerged and flicked against the little bud there, causing it to swell and become extremely sensitive. I was torn between wanting to back off and retain my dignity - and wanting to spread my legs further and sit on his face. He solved the dilemma by reclining onto his back and pulling me atop him. His face was in my pussy, the fingers opening me to his view and his tongue. He rubbed me there and I tried to pull back because the sensation was so overwhelming. I felt his finger testing me, and then it reached inside, emerging wet and glistening in the moonlight as I watched.

  I was seated naked atop the man I loved in a magical field filled with tree blossoms as he tasted my own inner self on his lips. It was the forbidden and the ultimate. It was absolutely intoxicating. I closed my eyes and held out my arms as if the breeze would carry me into the clouds.

  Before I realized it, he'd rolled me onto my back. I opened my eyes to see him naked. I was immediately drawn to his engorged penis, bobbing and beckoning to me. I pulled back, even though I wanted very much to touch him, to feel its texture and perhaps even taste him as he had done to me. He was too large, though - almost frightening in proportion. I'd never seen a male human, but I had thought they would be a lot smaller than horses. I couldn't fathom that anything that large in girth and length would fit inside a woman. Perhaps that was why women screamed when they did it? Were they being torn open?

  Michael supported his weight as he rose above me. He pushed my thighs apart again, and this time it was not his finger that probed me, but his penis. I began to protest, but tears were pouring from my eyes with the emotion of the moment, and as insane as it sounded afterwards, I wanted to feel him inside me. I wanted to claim him for all time. I had no idea if I was his first, but I knew he was mine, and there was no one I wanted to take that virginal cap but him. It seemed right and fitting, and I was out of my mind with a need to be stroked.

  There was a splinter of pain as he slid into me. "Michael! No! No! Pull out! You're hurting me."

  "It's okay, lassie," he told me with the name only he could use. It was part of his heritage and was another way he made me feel special. "You won't tear, you'll stretch to match me. It's the way women are made. It's okay."

  "Michael, don't get me pregnant! Don't release inside me!"

  I was feeling a little hysteria rising, and it made me tense.

  "Relax, relax, lassie. I'll be very careful, don't worry. I'll pull out before it happens. Now relax and let the feeling come over you. You feel so wonderful wrapped around me. I can't tell you how long I've waited for this, lassie."

  His words were like pure honey to my ears, and I had to admit that I'd wanted him, too - it seemed like forever. I was beyond pulling away, beyond arguing. This was right, my sensual brain was telling me. Enjoy it, enjoy it, it cajoled me.

  Michael took me that night beneath our tree. It was the beginning of new lives for all of us.

  Chapter 1 - Callie

  I knew the feeling all too well, and the dread was already fueled. I felt perspiration on my forehead, my heart was sending shooting pains through my chest, and I could hardly breathe or even concentrate enough to know where I was. I recognized my dad and he was gesturing. I could see his mouth moving, but I couldn't understand what he was saying.

  I felt dirt scrape my cheek as I hit the ground - hard. My shoulder hurt and the tears began, opening the dam that was the beginning of the end. As the tears grew heavier, they took the pain and stress with them, leaving me weak and embarrassed. Dad's hand was in front of my face, offering me help to stand. I shook my head and sat in defeat a few seconds longer before I stood up and brushed off my clothes. "Why, Dad? Why does it happen every time?"

  "Can't say
, little girl, but you know as well as I do what's behind them. The doctor told you that."

  "I know, but I'm out to prove him wrong. P-T-S-D. Sounds like something that makes a cripple out of you, and I won't let it, Dad. No matter what."

  Dad stopped and turned, putting his hands on my shoulders and tilting my chin upward to look at him. "Look, Callie. Your mom's accident, that had nothin' to do with you. She loved riding, just like you do, and she was a helluva rider. Some people ride their whole lifetimes and aren't as good as she was. She knew what she was doin', and it wasn't her fault, either. Blue Boy was just too much for anyone to handle. If anythin', it's my fault she was out in that pasture when the mares were in just the next one over. Blue Boy was always randy. He wanted what he wanted, and there was nothin' your mom was gonna do to stop him. When he jumped that fence, you and I both know he landed bad and she got caught underneath."

  "But Dad, I knew the mares were there. Mom was letting me lead the way. I should have gone another direction."

  "No, Callie, you just can't take the blame for it, you hear me? It was just one of them things. God knows that if either one of us could undo it, we would. But there's just some things that God intends, and we have to accept that. You think I don't miss her, too? Damn, it's only been not even a whole year."

  I was crying full out, and when Dad turned away, I saw that his shoulders were quivering. I let him go. I knew it made things worse when I witnessed his grief. His hair had begun to turn gray since Mom's accident. I knew he missed her. With an unusual impulse, I called after him, "I'll never leave you, Dad."

  ***

  Michael's car was in the drive when I got back to the house. Dad worked as the Smithfields' trainer, and that came with living in a smaller house on the Smithfield farm. It had been home for as long as I could remember. Michael was leaning against his car, his long legs crossed at the ankle. He was wearing a black Louisville ball cap with their red cardinal logo. There was a shit-eating grin on his face, and that's when I knew.