Page 18 of Once Upon a Frosty Winter

“No. She doesn’t want it back.”

“Okay, then you don’t leave. It’s yours.”

Hilda’s brows pull together in a small frown. She worries her bottom lip with her teeth, then she abruptly stands up. “I need to think this over. You’ve thrown a lot of information at me.” She turns but then pauses, looking over her shoulder as she says, “And over an empty stomach.”

I sit there as panic begins to set in and rise. The rejection I feel is foreign and unsettling. I’m left dumbfounded. A part of me wants to chase after her, but another part of me knows I need to let her work through this in her own time and in her own space.

I whisper to myself, “Fuck. What’d I do?”

My phone chimes, and it’s a text from her.

Hilda “Evil” Queen

Come to the orchard tomorrow at dusk. We can talk again after I’ve eaten.

So there’s hope yet. Not for dinner, but for us to continue this conversation.

Wait—tomorrow is Christmas. Does she know that?

* * *

When I arrive at the orchard the next day, I’m stopped by an employee. Who makes someone work on Christmas? No wonder people say she’s evil.

“Mr. Frost?”

“Yes. I’m Jax Frost.”

“You are to go to the private quarters. Here’s a map.”

What the hell? A map? I’m too revved up to focus on directions or try to figure this map out. “Would you mind showing me?”

“I can only go so far.”

Now this is interesting… Is this a naughty little treasure map, perhaps? A guide would save me time. “Take me as far as you can go. I’ll handle the rest.”

A red-and-black ribbon is tied to a post, and that’s where my guide tells me she can’t go any farther. There are tall shrubs covered in twinkling white Christmas lights and snow. They form an opening to a small maze. I walk through the narrow opening until it expands into a wider area. There’s a trailer. I walk up and knock on the door, but there’s no answer. I knock again, and again, no answer. I check the door handle and it turns. Once inside, I’m greeted by the scent of expensive perfume and cinnamon.

On the floor is an apple, and not too far away is another one. There’s a trail of apples leading toward the back of the trailer to a closed door. I feel like Yoshi fromSuper Mario Bros.following these apples.

As silly as I feel, it’s well worth it. I open the door to a dimly lit bedroom. Instrumental music is playing low in the background, and Hilda is in red lingerie and entangled in Christmas lights. Her ebony hair is down in loose, wavy curls. Those sinful lips are painted red. She’s leaning slightly forward, with her back to me. This is better than any wet dream I could’ve imagined.

The mattress dips as I climb on. “Merry Christmas to me.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Frost.” Her voice is husky and full of need.

I take my time touching every inch of her, something I’ve dreamt about every night since the first time I touched her. Fuck me, I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I slide a finger through her panties, and my eyes roll back as her arousal coats my skin.

“I love how wet you are for me.”

She looks over her shoulder at me and teases, “That’s just my yeast infection.”

I smack her ass and then place a hungry kiss over the reddened skin. “God, I love it when you talk dirty,” I tell her against her luscious skin.

Such a smartass.I love it.

ChapterEleven

Hilda

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