I Have Lived And I Have Loved: A Charity Romance Collection

by Willow Winters

  We’re on dangerous ground, and I can’t seem to stop. “We can be friends.” I lean down, getting closer. “Friends who do this.”

  Capturing her lips with mine, I spread them apart. I pull her tongue into my mouth, stroking it with mine, curling and tasting her sweetness like I want to do between her legs.

  I wonder what Daisy Sales would sound like when she comes, and my dick hardens.

  Her fingers tighten on my coat. Her body in my arms is pliant. She’s like a coconut-vanilla, soft and juicy treat, and I want more.

  I want all of her.

  Lifting my head, I look into her eyes. They blink open slowly, and she’s breathing so fast, she puts a hand on her chest.

  “Oh.” It’s all she says before shaking her head. “I don’t think we should do that… or we might not be friends anymore.”

  That makes me grin. “No?”

  Her eyes finally meet mine, and instead of girlish and flustered, the smart-girl is back. Daisy arches an eyebrow at me and shakes her head.

  “I don’t know, Scout Dunne. But I think you’re going to be bad at being friends with me.”

  Clasping her chin between my thumb and my forefinger, I lean down to kiss that insolent nose. “I think you’re going to be bad for all my plans, and it’s going to rock.”

  Her lips press into a smile, and she turns, walking slowly up the stairs to her aunt’s front porch. That dress sways over her ass, and I’m pretty sure she adds a little extra hip-shake for my benefit.

  I’m tempted to catcall, but I don’t want to wake the neighborhood.

  When she gets to the door, she does a little finger wave before disappearing inside, and I know. This year is going to be way more than I ever bargained for….

  * * *

  Thank you for reading!100% of the profits from this anthology will be given to the Live A Thousand Lives charity.

  This charity donates audio players - equipped with hundreds of hours of classic stories - to low-to-no mobility patients in nursing facilities and hospitals.

  The Live A Thousand Lives Project has been fueled by prolific Romance writers and unabashed book lovers who appreciate that audiobooks boost mental health, improve memory and stimulate the brain in ways that mirror reading printed text.

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  * * *

  WAYS TO HELP:

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  Thanks so much for reading Scout and Daisy’s introductory short story!

  Their full-length romance, TWIST OF FATE, is coming Feb. 15 to Kindle Unlimited.

  Order your copy now

  Read JR’s romance THIS MUCH IS TRUE (link), Out Now…

  JR is a grumpy single dad on a mission of revenge, until he meets a girl he can’t leave behind.

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  The Devil’s Chessboard

  By Skye Warren & Amelia Wilde

  Chapter 1

  Gabriel

  A man in a dark suit sits down next to me.

  We’ve never met in person, but I know who it is before he speaks. “Thanks for meeting me,” I say, raising a glass of aged whiskey. “Do you want one?”

  He sits down, graceful despite his large frame. “Thank you for the invitation. I’ve heard about the Den but never had the pleasure.”

  A cocktail waitress steps close. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Coffee,” he says.

  When we’re alone again, I lean forward. “I’m building a chess set. The board will be made of African Blackwood and White Oak. Interlocking parts, immovable, no hardware. The pieces will have marble bases and intricate mixed metal sculptures on top.”

  “And what do you need the diamonds for?”

  I name the artist I’ve commissioned for this project. She’s made a splash in the post-modern art world. She’s also a third generation jeweler, which is why Luther Hades will know her.

  He raises an eyebrow above his black, bottomless eyes. No—almost black. My sources were incorrect about this detail. A thin ring of blue surrounds huge pupils. “Impressive. I know rich people tend to throw their money around, but is there a reason you’re building a chess set instead of buying an island or taking a man to the moon?”

  That pulls a wry smile from me. “My wife.”

  “Ah.”

  “She loves chess, and I love her. We’re expecting our second child soon, and this will be my gift to her. Of course it can’t compare to the children she brings me, but it will have to suffice.”

  “So the designer wants diamonds.”

  “Two large stones. Smaller ones to form eternity bands. For the queens.”

  “Only the queens?”

  “The kings will have to content themselves with copper.”

  “I suppose that’s what they get for being so fucking useless.”

  We share a low chuckle at that, and pause as he receives a steaming mug. Both of us are kings of industry, authorities in business, billionaires on paper, but I know from my sources that he’s recently married. Society may look to us as leaders, but we both bow to our queens.

  He meets my direct gaze. “You could have called my Director of Operations. We have a very capable team for direct high-dollar sales.”

  I smile. “Those are for the diamonds you sell. I want the ones you don’t.”

  A look of surprise passes over his granite features. I get the impression he isn’t surprised very often. His personal collection isn’t exactly public knowledge, but people whisper. Massive geodes, museum quality tapestries.

  And of course, the best diamonds from his mine.

  “What makes you think I’m willing to part with them?”

  “Everything has a price.”

  “Don’t you mean everyone has a price?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Your reputation precedes you. I know what you’re worth. Even so I’m not sure you can tempt me. When a man makes enough money, he starts to want other things.”

  He wouldn’t have taken this meeting if he weren’t willing to make a bargain. “I think we can come to an agreement. Perhaps you would like to join my wife and I for dinner tomorrow night?”

  Hades pauses. “So that’s your game.”

  “You can ask my wife what she loves so much about chess.”

  He laughs abruptly. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m an arrogant bastard. So are you. Let’s work together.”

  The empty coffee mug meets the table. “There are some other things I hope to take care of during our visit to Tanglewood. And yes, I’m willing to meet you. Persephone will appreciate having new friends. But I make no promises on the diamonds.”

  I shake his hand before he leaves, then I sit back to finish the rest of my drink. The whiskey here really is the best in the world. When a man makes enough money, he starts to want other things. Yes, Avery taught me that. Love. Family. She’s brought me a peace I’ve never thought possible. I’m determined to spoil her with the very best this earth has to offer.

  When I’m done with my drink, I head outside. The waiting limo takes me home.

  I walk in to a house full of quiet.

  The black cat curled up on the large wooden chess set peeks one eye open but doesn’t move as I walk through the living room. The Christmas tree twinkles against the balcony.

  A large curving staircase takes me to the bedroom, where I find my family asleep. Avery curls around our little girl while He
len naps with her mouth open, arm flung over her mother’s pregnant tummy in peaceful little girl slumber.

  Part of me wants to wake Avery. Helen doesn’t nap every day anymore, and we have precious few moments alone during the day. But moreso, I know that my wife needs her sleep. Her second pregnancy is rougher than her first.

  More morning sickness, though that part has passed. More discomfort at night.

  So I’m silent as I slip off my shoes and take off my jacket. I curl around my girls—all three of them, still and safe in my arms, and fall into a peaceful sleep.

  When I wake up both of them are coming drowsily alert. Helen’s already slipping off the edge of the bed with a cheeky grin and running off, most likely to get into trouble.

  Avery leans back against me and rests her head under my chin. I pull her close. “Do you want to keep sleeping?” I murmur against her hair. “I can keep the little imp away.”

  Her hand captures my arm, pulling me tighter around her. “Don’t go.”

  Her breasts warm and heavy against my arm, her ass tight against my abs, both of them have the predictable effect. I become hard, and she wriggles when she feels me.

  A low moan escapes her, and I shudder at the sensual sound.

  “Naughty,” I mutter.

  I can hear the smile in her voice. “Are you going to punish me?”

  Behind us the door is open, but I know that our child is already in her room playing. She’s usually good by herself after a nap, playing on her own, as if she’s afraid that if she comes to us she’ll be trapped in another afternoon nap.

  I pull the blanket over us to be safe, covering my hands as they pull up her dress and slip beneath her underwear. She’s always so welcoming. Her legs spread for me, giving me access, and I slide my fingers deep inside her.

  “How can I punish you, darling?” I find the special place inside her and rub the pads of my fingers over it, making her squirm and gasp. “When you feel so damn good?”

  I thrust in and out of her, fucking her with my hand as I grow hard and desperate against her ass. She comes in urgent little mewls and tiny thrusts of her hips. I continue stroking her softly, softly, letting her sink gently back to earth.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, voice heavy with satisfaction.

  When I press my lips to the curve of her ear, she’s already asleep again.

  Ruefully I remove my hand. I lean down to breathe in deep from her hair, her skin, her musky sexual scent. My hard cock will have to go on throbbing, because she needs her sleep.

  Chapter 2

  Hades

  I don’t travel, as a rule.

  Not to meetings in places I don’t own. Not to shadowy street corners in a nondescript car I’ve driven here myself. And not to stakeouts on jewelry stores.

  Rules, of course, always have exceptions. They come up against conflicting parameters.

  For instance:

  I do not deny my wife anything, as a rule.

  There are exceptions to that, too. Persephone likes to be denied some things, in some ways.

  Not this.

  Many of my rules are coming under fire today. Interesting how that happens the moment you’re outside your own kingdom. Fortunately for me, I won’t be here long enough to bend this whole city to my will. Unfortunately for others, I’ll be here long enough to bring parts of it to heel.

  One part in particular.

  When Oliver, my head of security, told me about this scheme I brushed him off. It’s absurd on its face. No one sells my diamonds but me. Everyone knows this. They have their suspicions and rumors about the things that go on in the mines I own, but they never question the integrity of the diamonds. It makes no difference to me if some cretin from Tanglewood is running a con.

  Oliver is an intelligent man. He knew better than to press me on bullshit. But Persephone insisted.

  “Tell him the rest.”

  Oliver sighed. Persephone raised her eyebrows. A battle fought and lost in the space of an instant.

  “Children,” she said, before he could get a word out. “They’re using children. For labor.” She didn’t have to say the rest: and what else?

  “We’ve gotten word that they’re sending another shipment in two weeks,” Oliver said.

  “Of diamonds?”

  “Of children.”

  A straight line travels from those words to me, sitting behind the wheel and watching the lazy fall of snowflakes from sky to street.

  The jewelry store across the pavement has no distinguishing features. It looks like all the other buildings around it. A glassed-in front entrance. A slim alleyway off to one side.

  No lights. The shop is closed.

  Nothing happens.

  Nothing happens for so long that I start to fantasize about firing Oliver for this waste of time and resources.

  I could be in the hotel suite with Persephone right now, doing any number of things to her. With her. I don’t lie to her, as a rule. Tonight is yet another exception. A lie of omission is still a lie.

  And now it’s for nothing.

  It would be a pleasure to respond to the anger heating my palms, but I won’t. Not until later. Not until it’s convenient. Persephone has a way of turning that sensation into something else entirely.

  I’m reaching for the key to the ignition when something moves in the alley.

  It’s almost imperceptible, a shadow inside a shadow. The permanent state of my eyes means I have no choice but to see it.

  Well, fuck.

  The shadow resolves into a shape—a small, red coat.

  Perhaps I’ll let Oliver keep his job.

  The red coat is only the first in a line of jackets. Six, seven, eight.

  I don’t regret leaving my dog, Conor, with Persephone. Not until this moment, anyway. Because five men are following the children.

  The number doesn’t concern me so much as the possibility of collateral damage. Disgust burns the back of my throat. These useless pieces of shit.

  A flash of white at the far corner of the street illuminates the whole setup. The van is huge and white and could be from any delivery company in the city. Only this one is going to deliver children from one hell to another.

  This will never be my daughter. But if it were...

  Well.

  Nothing on this street would be left standing.

  I send a single text to a prearranged number and get out of the car. Adrenaline swan dives into my veins. Down to my toes. Down to my fingertips. I cannot fucking believe how cavalier and obvious they’re being. It’s as if they were sure I wouldn’t care.

  One of the men moves first. He’s big and weighed down with a bulletproof vest. His nose cracks under my fist, no thanks to the vest. He falls into the brick corner of the alley.

  I can feel the rest of them weighing their options. The van is coming. The children are scattering, three of them sprinting across the street.

  I’ve already chosen my next move.

  The closest one is a scrawny thing and I get one hand around his throat before he’s made the decision to run. His nearby friend is loyal to someone, at least, because he tries to stop the strangling in process. I end it early out of convenience. It leaves just enough of an opening for the last one to try and tackle me from behind.

  To tackle me.

  Like a fucking fool.

  He succeeds in scratching me across one eye—or is it a knife? The cut catches on my cheekbone. Fuck that. My eyes are what they are. That doesn’t mean I’d be better off with one missing. I throw him over me and onto the concrete and plant one shoe on his neck.

  Oh, look. The van has arrived.

  There are no children left to climb in, but there are three remaining men who scramble for it, fumbling for the handle on the door, pounding on the windows.

  Fucking cowards.

  And late cowards, too. Because the cavalry have arrived.

  Red and blue lights pierce the dark at the end of the street and drive knives into my pupils. Th
ey’re alternating with sun-bright flashes and a single flicker of concern for myself blinks its way into being. There’s no time to indulge it. Not in the immediate scramble of other people arriving to make arrests and search out the children. I offer an anonymous statement and leave.

  The drive back to the hotel hurts. So do the lights in the lobby, and the ones in the elevator.

  At the entrance to the penthouse suite the door opens before I can reach for the handle. Persephone is adorably disheveled, one cheek pink from sleep. I have my hands on her even before the door closes behind us. My mouth on the side of her neck. She’s so warm, so soft, and I’m going to wreck her. Just the way she likes. I get a hand between her legs and she gasps, slinging one arm around my neck.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “I don’t care.”

  I take her to bed without caring. I don’t think about it again until much later, when she’s curled dreamily around a pillow, her breathing even and deep. Conor rustles in the corner, turns around, goes back to sleep. He hasn’t noticed my return. So much for man’s best friend.

  The cut is shallow, but it still stings.

  And the fight was too easy.

  Chapter 3

  Gabriel

  The next day, Uncle Christopher and Aunt Harper agree to be our last minute babysitters. Helen greets them at the door already in her Peppa Pig pajamas, eager to eat popcorn and watch Christmas movies. I welcome Christopher with a handshake.

  Harper tries to convince Helen to watch It’s a Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart. “There’s an angel that comes down from heaven, a run on a bank, and a romance for the ages.”

  My little girl frowns. “How the Grinch Stole Christmas has a cute puppy.”

  “She knows her own mind,” I warn Harper. “A cute puppy is hard to beat.”

  “I think they have a dog, the family.” She looks at Christopher. “Don’t they have a dog?”