Welcome to Wardham: Contemporary Erotic Romance Bundle

by Zoe York

  “Not nearly enough.” His tongue found hers and conversation was abandoned as they lost themselves in the taste of each other. She couldn’t help but crawl into his lap, hungry for more of him. He dominated the kiss, even from below, and she let him lead, but took every opportunity he offered to give back in earnest delight.

  An unspoken understanding passed between them that they were going to stick to above their clothes petting, and after a time their kisses slowed, turning languid and bone-meltingly sweet. They exchanged innocent, amazing little touches, a hot press of a palm against her side, branding her through her t-shirt, which she returned against his chest, feeling the thump of his heartbeat against her fingers. His remarkably steady, calm heartbeat. For a guy so conflicted about letting loose, he seemed quite at ease with what they were doing.

  And why shouldn’t he? She’d done everything she could to be non-threatening. While she really wanted to rip off his shirt and lick him from collarbone to navel, because frankly, they were adults, and with all the tax-paying, overtime-working, community-involvement responsibilities that entails, shouldn’t they be able to enjoy the one big benefit—an unencumbered social life?

  Of course, that led her in the direction of guys like Blake. No, thanks. Not anymore. A dangerous hope flickered in her tummy at the idea that Paul was different. She pushed back at her sub-conscious. He was different alright, but not in a good way. Well, this was pretty good. Amazing, even. But while Paul wasn’t a friends with benefits type of guy, he wasn’t a more than friends option either. He was just a friend. With whom she was going to get one delicious night of kissing and petting, to fuel a future of fond fantasies. Nothing more. If she let her gut wander away with hope of anything else, her heart would soon hear of the idea, and then it would all be over.

  “You’re thinking again.” Paul traced the ridge of her earlobe with his tongue. He’d slipped sideways and was now lying on the couch, holding her firmly on top of him, stretched out against his hard, lean frame.

  She propped herself up on his chest, trying to ignore how the movement pressed their hips together. “I’m not sure how I feel about being so transparent to you.”

  He ground his erection into her belly. “I think it’s going both ways right now, don’t you?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. There was no doubting the level of physical attraction between them. “Yeah, but that’s just one facet of you. You have a central tap into my brain.”

  He kissed the end of her nose and regarded her face with careful perusal for a moment before responding. “I just know that it’s working. I really can’t read your thoughts. But I’d like to.”

  No, you wouldn’t. He’d run away screaming if he knew the thoughts that flickered around the edges of her mind. The picket fence possibilities that she couldn’t help but envision. And wasn’t that reason enough to call it a night and head back to reality. If they could. She might not be able to read all of his thoughts, but the turmoil roiling inside her was clearly reflected in his stormy grey eyes. That was an unguarded depth she’d never seen before, in his eyes, or anyone else’s, and it both scared and thrilled her.

  Maybe the friend zone was a better place to be. Easier, anyway.

  “Karen?”

  “What did you say before? Shut up and kiss me, right?” She offered what she hoped came off as an easygoing smirk.

  He furrowed his brow. “Hard to argue with that, but—”

  She cut him off with a hard press of her lips, tracing the seam of his with the tip of her tongue. He let her in with a groan, and she willed her mind to fade to black.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The quiet hum of fluorescent overhead lights was a subtle soundtrack for the moment she said goodbye to a lifelong dream. She’d always liked the Essex library, bigger, more modern than the Wardham location, but at that moment, it felt like hell.

  Karen shifted her hips in the wooden chair and wondered if it would be poor form to just leave. The human resources coordinator had all but said that the positions were reserved for graduates of a Master’s program. She’d used phrases like competitive marketplace and rapidly evolving field, and interspersed them with polite smiles and kind words about her experience, but Karen knew a brush-off when she experienced it.

  Now she was waiting in the hall like a high school junior caught skipping class, listening to the occasional squeak of the restocking cart and wondering if she could chain herself to it in protest. Except then the books wouldn’t be returned to their rightful homes, and that just wouldn’t do.

  That she wanted to shift from managing inventory at a grocery store to basically the same thing at a library was not lost on her. If anything, it proved that the new Wardham library would be the perfect place for her—no one else would care as much. But apparently passion didn’t rate for bupkis in a competitive marketplace. Bah.

  “Ms. Miller?” The petite ice queen in a pastel pink twinset stood in front her, a manila envelope in her outstretched hand. “Here’s the package on internships I mentioned. Something to consider.”

  Karen nodded numbly and stood to accept the package. And run away. Bittersweet tears burned at the back of her eyelids and thick emotion clogged her throat. Thirty-four years old and her only option was an internship.

  Not the only option. Until the other night, she’d been ready to pack up and move to London or Toronto to study Library Sciences again. And she still was. As she pushed through the double glass doors at the front of the non-descript mid-century single story municipal building that housed the Essex Central Library, Karen recommitted to herself that she wasn’t going to limit herself to jobs in Wardham. Not for the town, and not for Paul.

  Definitely not for Paul. She paused in the bright sunlight and pressed her fingers to her lips. A shiver trembled through her at the memory of his kiss. His hands, firm and warm and oh so talented. They’d necked on her couch for almost two hours, and it had been one of the most satisfying sexual experiences in her life. Quite something, given the lack of orgasms. At one point she’d been tempted to grind against him, knowing it wouldn’t take much to get herself off, but something held her back.

  Something smart, because when they walked to the door, bittersweet longing hung over them like a funeral shroud and Karen knew that if they’d gone any further, she wouldn’t have recovered. Wouldn’t have been able to look Paul in the eye and promise that she understood that night couldn’t lead to anything else.

  And she’d been fine. Really, truly fine.

  Until today.

  Mildred had set up this meeting for her, and Karen was appreciative, but she hadn’t needed the extra dose of reality. Not this week. She already got it—this was karma for three decades of taking the easy path through life.

  She slid her sunglasses on and remotely unlocked her car. At least it was a nice day to roll the windows down and turn up the radio. A grin curled up her face as she moved toward the Camaro. If nothing else went her way, at least she had a wicked ride.

  You and me against the world, Hermoine. Her brothers hated the name. No amount of justification stemmed the ribbing, but she didn’t care. Her car was fearless, brave and bold. And she wasn’t embarrassed about the fangirl naming decision.

  As she trailed her fingers along the curve of the front hood, a sweet caress for her baby in advance of the goodness about to happen on the drive home, a faint trill sounded from inside her bag. A text message. She slid the phone out and warily eyed the screen. She hadn’t told anyone about the appointment, and she doubted Mildred would betray her confidence.

  You can do anything. Believe in yourself.

  A random message from a random number. There was no hyperlink, but it read like spam. She’d gotten a few of those the previous year, and put herself on the no-call list. Apparently, that no longer mattered to telemarketers and phishers. Delete.

  The phone and her bag stashed on the floor of the passenger side, Karen smoothly shifted into reverse and peeled out of the parking space.


  The fifteen minute drive down the county road back to Wardham took the edge off her mood, and she considered turning east and heading along the lakeshore for a while, but her pointy toed heels were pinching, so she headed home.

  As she screeched into the driveway, not going too fast but not being cautious either, she belatedly realized that Paul was in his backyard. He shot her a furrowed brow look, which promptly restored all grumpiness that had dissolved on the drive. She didn’t need any judgment on her driving today. Or ever, but definitely not today.

  And definitely not from Paul. Their lives couldn’t—wouldn’t—mix, so he could take his thoughts and stuff them.

  He moved toward her, but she waved him off with a snarky, “Sorry, Constable.”

  She stomped inside, regret niggling at the back of her head as she caught sight of his shocked expression. It wasn’t fair to take out her frustration on him. She’d have to find a way to apologize later. Without throwing yourself at him or sticking your tongue down his throat.

  She’d barely made it through the kitchen when her phone rang. She yanked it out of her bag without so much as glancing at the screen. Enough with people already. “What?”

  “I like your skirt.”

  She whirled around and peered through the window. “Uh, hi?”

  He raised his hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Talking to you.”

  “On the phone?”

  “I thought it would be safer than approaching in person.”

  “I’ve had a bad day.” She turned away from the window and headed for the stairs. She’d wanted to change into comfy pants since she’d left Essex.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She stopped at the top of the stairs and dropped her head. “No.” It came out as half word, half groan. And it wasn’t really true. Ignoring everything else that was or wasn’t going on between them, Paul was surprisingly the one person with whom she felt safe sharing her secrets. “Yes, but not right now. Are you going to be around later? We could have a beer and commiserate on how much life sucks.”

  “I’ve got a shift tonight.”

  “Oh.” Hot pressure built behind her eyes and she swiped furiously at her lids, refusing the tears. For any reason, but definitely not because he wasn’t available for a backyard chat. That was ridiculous. She thought about turning around and going back outside for a few minutes, just to see him, but she wasn’t sure that wouldn’t just feed the monster inside her who wanted all that could not be had.

  “You’re not at the window anymore. Where’d you go?”

  Fantasyland. “Upstairs. I’m done with the fancy clothes.” If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in grumpiness, she might have noticed his silence right away, but her blouse was half unbuttoned before she realized Paul hadn’t responded. “You still there?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yep.”

  “Distract me. Tell me something interesting.”

  “Uhm…I can’t think of anything right now.”

  “Oh. Do you need to get back to your yard work? I can let you go—”

  “No.” He interjected quickly enough that she stopped what she was doing and sat down on her bed. “Hang on a second, I just need to wash my hands.”

  A screen door clapped shut, then the white noise of running water obscured everything else. She lay back on the bed and kicked first one heel across the room, then the other.

  “You still there?” Out of breath and deeper than usual, his voice vibrated through the phone and straight to her core.

  She pressed her eyes shut and willed herself not to drift again. “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Would you rather hear about Megan’s science project, or the grow-op bust that was actually an oregano farm?”

  Warm relief washed over her. “Both. Oregano farm first.”

  He chuckled and launched into his story, pausing from time to time when she laughed, or asked a question.

  It didn’t take long to sink into the conversation as they traded warm murmurs back and forth, and at the next natural lull, she took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Distracting me. I don’t even need to change into my comfy clothes now.”

  “You didn’t get changed?”

  “I started to, got halfway undressed, but then I gave up and lay down.” This time, she caught on to his silence right away, and flushed a deep scarlet as she rewound her words and realized what she’d just shared. “Uhm, was that too much information?”

  “God, no.” She wasn’t imagining that husky tone, right? “If there’s information I’ll always want more of, it’s your state of undress in a bedroom.” Right.

  “That’s not friendly.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “You know what I mean. It’s too friendly.”

  “Can’t help it.”

  “We can’t do this, remember?”

  “Talk on the phone? Because that’s all we’re doing. Talking. No harm in that, right?” His voice was taut with tension, and a challenge. She could handle one night of making out, but ongoing flirting? It hurt her heart that Paul wasn’t open to a relationship, but now that wasn’t the only barrier. She would probably be leaving town soon. Zero chance of anything happening once Paul knew that fact.

  “Right. Just talking.”

  “About your state of undress.” He dropped his voice to a lower register. “I can’t get the taste of you out of my mouth, Karen. Have you been thinking about that night?”

  Even though there were many walls and a driveway between them, Karen was suddenly very conscious that she was just wearing a bra and a skirt. And underpants. She was also quite aware of her underwear. “Uhm, yeah.”

  “Tell me.”

  “That was nice…making out.”

  He chuckled. “It was. You make me want to forget my principles, Karen.” The growled words sounded like a compliment, but she wasn’t so weak that she couldn’t push back at the unintended truth.

  “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

  “It’s not, but you are. Maybe I need to re-evaluate.”

  Let me know once you’ve done that, buddy. But she couldn’t voice the brush off. She didn’t have a co-dependent bone in her body, but something about Paul made her want to promise to wait. Made her want to accept whatever half-measures he could handle. Except she probably wouldn’t be around when he sorted his shit out. “Let’s not make this complicated. Can we go back to talking about making out?”

  “We can start there.” His voice was silky, pure sex in her ear, and she found herself holding her breath. And then go where? “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

  “A skirt.”

  “I saw it. Very pretty. Can you spread your legs in it?”

  Oh god. “Uhm, no.”

  “Take it off.”

  She tucked the phone tight under her chin and rolled to the side so she could grab the zipper in the back. After laying the skirt over her footboard, she scrambled up to the head of the bed and fluffed up a couple of pillows to recline against. “Okay.”

  “I love the little panting noises you were making as you did that, Karen.” His words dripped over her skin like sweet oil. “Listening to you made me hard.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” He sounded amused, but in a way that included her. “Everything about you turns me on.”

  “Wow. Okay, I like that.”

  “Good. Are you wearing anything else?”

  “A bra and…panties. They match.”

  “Describe them.”

  “They’re pink, pale pink, and mostly see-through.” She paused as he groaned and shifted. He was right. The little noises were awesome. “The underwear are bikini style, so they just have little straps on the sides. The bra is a demi-cup—”

  “Off. Take them off.” The words came out strangled and her heart swelled at the effect she was having on him. “Wait. Just the bra. Leave the panties on. I want your hand inside them.
Imagine the fabric pressing against your skin is my hand guiding you.”

  Her bra sailed across the room and she wiggled into the center of the bed, pausing for a second to put her phone on speaker. “Guiding me to do what?”

  “First, we’re going to find out if you’re wet. Are you wet for me, darlin’?” If she wasn’t already—which she totally was—she would be after that question.

  “Yes.” Her answer came out in a breathless rush.

  “One hand in your panties, the other cupping a breast. Don’t touch your nipples yet.”

  She wasn’t going to, that wasn’t something she would normally do when touching herself, but as soon as he gave that directive, she was suddenly aware of both nipples, her areolas pebbling and the dark pink tips jutting sharply toward the ceiling. She licked her lips, imagining him above her, propped up on his forearms, gazing at her breasts. She plumped up her left breast, offering him a taste. Her right hand, previously nestled on top of her pubic hair, now drifted lower to press on her sex. “What are you doing?”

  “I’ve got my eyes closed. One hand on my cock, moving up and down, nice and slow, the other holding this phone so hard it might just break.”

  She shifted her head to look at her bedroom wall. Thirty feet separated their bare skin. “Are you imagining that it’s me touching you?”

  “Not right now. I’ve had that fantasy before, though. We’re in the shower. You wrap your fingers around me until I come all over your stomach. But right now, I’m there, in your bedroom, standing at the foot of your bed, watching you touch yourself.”

  “I want you on top of me.”

  “I’ll get there. Right now I want your legs as wide as they can get. You’ve got the longest legs. They’re so hot. I get distracted every time I see you in shorts, thinking about them wrapped around my waist.”

  Her pussy clenched under her roving fingers. She needed to buy more shorts.

  “I’m looking at you now. In my head, you’re not wearing anything, and I can see how wet you are.” She gasped at the picture he was painting. She wasn’t a virgin, not by a long shot, but to the best of her recollection, no one had ever looked at her spread eagle on a bed. If anyone else had suggested it, she’d be mortified. But Paul…his appraisal would be heated and wonderful. He’d make sure to reward her vulnerability. And she’d be able to watch him, watching her. See how it affected him.