Merry Christmas to all my fans and supporters!!!
When Breeze of Life was released I was inundated with readers asking me if there would be a sequel, or if Sean would get his own story. I'm striving to be an author who doesn't find a good thing than milk it completely and utterly dry. So, while BOL was a good thing there will be no sequel. I think the story sits perfectly well on its own. BUT, you all loved Harper Somerville and Bree 'Breeze' Delaney soooo much I couldn't help but give you a tiny peek at their life down the track.
I hope you enjoy it, and I also hope this brings you some BOL closure.
PLEASE NOTE: THE FOLLOWING IS RECOMMENDED FOR ADULT READERS 18YRS +++
Bree – Six years later
I was standing in our shower, the familiar white walls and glass surrounding me. Hot water fell over my skin, running a path from the top of my head to my toes. My eyes followed the flow of water over my breasts, down my stomach, and that’s when I realized something was wrong. I was bare again down there. My heart began to thump painfully in my chest. When I ran a hand through my heavy wet hair, I sucked back a strangled breath as I stared in horror. In my hand, I held a clump of dead, lifeless hair. I grasped another handful of hair and it too came away. I glanced down at my bare body only to discover the soft curves that had settled to my stomach, hips and legs were gone, and in their place boney limbs had protruded. How did I get like this? My mind began to scramble for my last cognitive memory—Pipeline, Hawaii two weeks ago. Harper had won that round and consequently this year’s Surfing World Title. It had been his third year running as champion and I had been so proud of him. I had also been healthy and whole. Had the entire thing been a dream? A horrible callous dream taunting me of the things I wished I had but would never? A sob broke free from my lips as I continued to pull my hair out, letting it fall to the shower floor.
“Baby girl...” The sound of Harper’s familiar voice caught my attention. In novels, waking from a dream is often described as a long hazy pull from the land of slumber. In reality it’s more like a rubber band snapping. One second you’re there, the next you’re not. My breathing was rapid and panicked as I looked around the darkened room trying to reassure myself that it had just been a bad dream. “Baby girl?” Suddenly there he was; his sparkling blue eyes full of concern as he looked down on me. The corners of those eyes held a few creases that were proof of the laughter that filled this man’s life. I didn’t know another person who laughed as much as he did. His brown hair tinged lighter by the sun. It was in a chaotic disarray of just woken mishap. Seeing it reminded me of my dream and I immediately raised my hands to my head. There, under my fingers, was the familiar texture of long soft hair. Harper sighed and gave me a small smile as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead. “It’s still there, baby girl, it was just a bad dream,” he breathed as kisses continued to whisper across my face. I didn’t have dreams like this often anymore, but when I did they left me consumed with the what ifs? What if the cancer comes back? What if it comes back and they can’t treat it? “Breeze,” Harper growled as he turned my chin so I was looking straight into those blue orbs that not only captured my attention, but also captured my heart. They were so full of honesty and love. “Stop!” he ordered. My husband, ever the alpha male of my dreams.
“Everything is okay isn’t it?” I quietly whispered.
His eyes softened. “Everything is perfect. You are perfect, we are perfect.” His lips crushed against mine and his kiss centered me, dragging me away from the taunting nightmare. When he finally drew away I gasped for air. Harper didn’t stop though, his lips wandered a path down my jaw, neck and finally chest. “This isn’t perfect though,” he deliberated, looking at the shirt I wore. “I mean, yeah, you look fucking perfect in my clothes but wearing it right now is going to restrict what I have planned for you.” Before I could ask him what he had planned for me, he pulled me to sit and lifted the shirt over my head. With one hand on my chest he pushed me back down. “Much better,” he said with a sinful grin that promised all sorts of wicked depravity. He leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nipple before drawing it into his mouth, sucking and teasing until I was shifting restlessly under him. He moved to the other nipple and gently grasped it with his teeth, teasing it to a tight peak. He continued to lower himself down my body, pressing kisses to any exposed skin he could reach. Hooking his fingers in the sides of my knickers he pulled them down my legs. Sitting back on his haunches he admired my now naked and most likely flushed body. I didn’t feel nervous or embarrassed under his gaze anymore. If anything I felt confident and daring. Harper was completely naked, as usual. He had tried to get me to sleep naked beside him, but I had a deep-seated fear that I might wake and need to flee the house in the middle of the night and I didn’t want to do it naked. So not going to happen. I loved that Harper slept naked beside me though. I was the only one who got to see him this way; his spectacular toned, bronze body was mine. And that impressive thick cock, which was currently wrapped in his hand, was also mine. He glided his hand over himself slowly, from tip to base, and I licked my lips at the thought of taking him in my mouth. “Don’t even think about it,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I wouldn’t last five second with your lips around my dick.” Harper grabbed my knees and pushed them further apart before settling his head between my thighs. “So fucking perfect,” he groaned as he used his thumbs to spread apart my intimate lips. I wanted to thrust my hips to meet his mouth, but however bold I thought I was, I wasn’t quite that daring. Harper didn’t leave me waiting though. He buried his mouth over me, sucking, licking, teasing until I was riding that wicked mouth. He groaned deep with satisfaction as he lifted my hips to his face. I found my hands tangled in his hair, pulling hard. When I came it was with such force that caused me to scream loudly, and before I had a chance to recognize the consequences of it, Harper was crawling over my body. “I have to be inside you, baby girl, it took everything I had not to come when you screamed.” With one long, hard thrust, he buried himself deep, and we both moaned at the intimate connection. “I could live here inside you forever,” he whispered as he began to thrust slowly.
“When would we eat?” I murmured.
Harper grinned. “Well, I just did, so I’m fine.” His words should have made me blush, and once upon a time, they would have. Now though, they just made the muscles in my core clench tighter with lustful passion. As his eyes rolled back in unrestrained pleasure, I forced my muscles to tighten around him again. Harper groaned loudly. Thank you kegel exercises. Suddenly he sat up a little and grabbed the backs of my thighs, pushing me open wide. Then he began to slam into me, hard and fast. His clever fingers found the little bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. He had already brought me to orgasm once and in no time at all I was screaming again as he pounded me towards my second. When I finally stilled, I realized Harper’s thrusts had become slow as he finished emptying himself inside me. Falling forward over my body he crushed me into the mattress, but I didn’t care. I loved having him in me, on me like this, completed, exhausted, sated, and oh so very much mine. Harper turned his head so his lips were at my ear. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Somerville.” He pressed a kiss to the shell of my ear, and I laughed.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Somerville. Was that my gift?”
He chuckled as he rolled off me, his arm still wrapped around my middle. “That was you’re first gift of the day.”
“I hope I get more like that then,” I admitted.
“Baby girl, by the end of today I doubt you’ll be able to walk.” Harper quickly washed his face and brushed his teeth before climbing back into bed beside me. Harper was still a morning person and I still wasn’t. Somehow he always ended up back in bed with me while I gathered the strength to face my lazy morning routine. We lay there in companionable silence for a long time, while the sun slowly began to rise.
“Are you going for a surf?” I asked him. I knew what the answer would be, but I asked anyway.
“It’s Christmas, Breeze, I don’t want to be anywhere but here.” While many other Gold Coast surfers were in the water at the crack of dawn for what was classed as “a reverent Christmas morning surf,” Harper stayed indoors. He hadn’t surfed a Christmas Day in six years now, claiming his heart was here; therefore, he would be too.
“Mummy?” came a small voice from somewhere far too close. I grabbed the blankets and pulled them to my neck not want her to see mine and Harper’s post love making form.
Harper laughed loudly. “Don’t worry, I locked the door before I decided to give you your first gift.” He slipped from the covers, pulled on his shorts and strode to the door. Pulling it open, my heart filled with joy at the sight on the other side. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess about her shoulders. Her sleepy blue eyes identical to her fathers were full of excitement as she dragged a large red bag full of presents behind her. “Hope, have you been shoplifting again?” Harper scowled at our daughter. Hope giggled, even though she didn’t really understand her father’s humor yet.
“It’s from Santa!” she exclaimed, dragging the enormous bag of gifts into our room.
Harper grabbed his shirt off the floor and threw it my way before scooping Hope into his arms.
“Where is my Christmas hug?” he demanded, kissing Hope and tickling her into a squealing mess while I quickly pulled the shirt on. Finally she began begging for mercy before Harper tossed her to the bed where she bounced in a fit of laughter. He pulled her Santa bag onto the bed, and just as Hope went to tear into her gifts, he grabbed the bag and shook his head. “Where is Mummy’s Christmas hug?” Hope’s eyes grew big realizing she had forgotten, and she scampered over the pillows and launched herself into my arms. Nothing felt as right as my daughter in my arms. My daughter, the fate I was not supposed to be granted. Our little miracle. We didn’t have to think long for a name—it came to us the moment she was born—Hope. She represented so much we had hoped for: a family. The doctors didn’t expect that I would fall pregnant again, they said the chances of having fallen pregnant the first time were so extraordinarily against us that having it happen a second time would be almost impossible. We didn’t care, we had our Hope and we never used contraception because there was always hope we might be gifted another miracle. I wasn’t greedy though; I had been granted so many miracles in this life. After walking in the shadows of death, I had been granted a full recovery and six years later I was still in remission. I had Harper who loved me like no other, I had friends, I had a home and we were more than comfortable financially after Harper’s success on the pro tour. To say we had been blessed was an understatement.
As Hope began digging through the large bag of toys, I watched on in rapture. At three years old, this was the first Christmas where she embraced the idea of Santa and gifts. Seeing her little face full of excitement as Harper began methodically breaking Barbie dolls free from the adult proof boxing was pure joy. She had emptied the bag in five minutes flat before running out of the room to check under the Christmas tree. Harper and I followed, and I laughed loudly as she squealed at the sight of the kid’s sized foam surfboard.
“Daddy! Look!” she screamed, pulling the bow off the board.
“Holy Moly!” exclaimed Harper. “I guess that means you will have to come surfing with me from now on.”
Once Hope had opened all her gifts and was running about the house on a haze of Christmas fueled adrenaline, Harper wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing his chest to my back and holding a small box in the palm of his hand. He kissed my neck as I took the box from him and pulled the small ribbon from around the wrapping. I opened the box and gasped. Inside was a fine gold chain with a small diamond encrusted musical note hanging from it. My fingers touched the delicate note with awe.
“Harper,” I whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
“A beautiful necklace for a beautiful girl,” he murmured as he fastened it around my neck. I turned in his arms and pressed my lips to his. What was meant a chaste kiss ended up being a little more, and Hope’s shrieking voice reminded us we were not behind the confines of a closed and locked door.
“I have something for you.” I pulled him towards the Christmas tree and found the small parcel I was after. I had bought him several gifts, but this was the most important. Harper wasted no time in ripping the wrapping paper off. I swear he was worse than Hope. He looked a little confused as he stared at the CD in his hands, then flipping it over his eyes snapped to mine, back to the CD and back to mine once more.
“How the hell did you do this?”
I shrugged as I took the CD from him and put it into the stereo. It was odd hearing my voice in surround sound, but the amazement in Harpers eyes was worth it. Jewel’s You Were Meant For Me filled the room. This was the song I had sung for him one warm summer evening six years ago while staying in Seal Rocks, a small bay on the New South Wales coastline. In fact, the entire CD was full of me singing songs from that road trip, the road trip that had altered our lives. Harper had quite literally dragged me from the depths of despair on that trip. He had opened my eyes to life and filled my heart with love. Not a day passed by where I didn’t think about that trip, and not a day went by where I didn’t thank him for it. Harper grinned and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. He held out his hand and I took it without hesitation as he pulled me into his warm body and danced with me around the room, kicking up discarded Christmas paper as we went. Hope latched on to the back of my legs, and Harper was quick to pick her up and include her in our moment.
“Dancing with my wife and daughter—this is a never have I,” he murmured in my ear. We were still crossing off our nevers. Perhaps not every day, but often enough that I was surprised that after six years we still had nevers to live. Harper ran his thumb over the tattoo on the inside of my wrist, his name, branded on my body just as it was branded in my heart. My name was tattooed on him too, right over his heart, below a tree of life. He had Hope’s name added beneath mine a few weeks after she was born. Her name sat on the inside of my other wrist, matching Harper’s.
“I’d better get dressed, George will be here soon and Sean and Abbi are probably sitting out front waiting for a decent hour to knock.” Sean had met Abbi three years ago. She was a beautiful English girl with a sassy mouth who had somehow managed to wrap the playboy around her little finger. The first time we met her she told Harper to keep his charming smiles to himself, that she was not a girl to turn to mush when a pretty boy smiled her way. I instantly liked her.
“Sean wouldn’t care if it was a decent hour or not,” laughed Harper as Hope tried to tickle under his neck. I went to pull away and go throw some clothes on when Harper stopped me. He placed Hope on his hip and leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I love you, baby girl, forever.”
I grabbed the back of his neck and held him close. “I love you, so much, Harper. Thank you.”
He kissed my lips, softly, sweetly, a PG rated kiss since Hope was watching curiously. When he pulled away, he left a kiss on the back of my fingers before letting me go. I strolled to our bedroom, my head and heart full of happiness and positive energy. Someone once told me that when life kicks you, let it kick you forward. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine forward would lead me here and I could never envisage being anywhere else.
Once upon a time my life had been consumed with fear and sorrow, but without that fear and sorrow I might never have found my way to Harper and ultimately Hope. So in the end, I was grateful for my battle. Everything happens for a reason. Everything was okay. Everything was perfect.
And I can't officially wrap this up without giving a massive shout out to Mick Fanning, the Gold Coasts very own newly crowned 3 x running ASP World Champion!!!