He flinched. "What's that?"
This wasn't a marriage proposal. Her pulse quickened, but she pressed ahead with the topic. "You clearly spend all your time with fake everything. It left you vulnerable and seeking someone like me."
A smile grew on his face though he shook his head. Then his lips came closer to hers. "There she is. The woman who is not afraid to be in my arms."
His muscles pressed against her sent butterflies throughout her stomach still. She closed her eyes and smelled his woodsy scent.
"You're impossible, Peter Morgan."
His fingers brushed against her hair. "Only with you."
Finally he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she sighed. He was perfect in some ways. Her toes curled until he ended the brief kiss. Her entire body heated again as he then wrapped his arms around her waist to spoon with her.
She ran her hands down his tight arm as she said, "Good, I'm happy it's only with me. Otherwise your business would be terribly run."
His laugh was deep and infectious. He was the perfect Christmas present.
She stared out the window at the gorgeous sunrise.
"Will you come to the hospital with me and then later home, to my house?"
She twirled to stare into his eyes. If he was sick, then they never should have slept together. She took his hands in hers. "Why the hospital?"
His fingers entwined with hers. "It's a tradition, and I'd like your help this year."
"Tradition?" Peter spent Christmas every year in a hospital? She pressed her lips together and asked, "What are we doing there?"
He ran his hands up and down her back. Tingles grew everywhere.
"Ensuring the families in the hospital can all afford their medical bills."
Now was not the time for more sex. She sat and took the sheets with her as she smiled. "See. You are a good guy."
He sat beside her, and ran his hand through his hair. "No, I'm not. It's something I've always done, but it doesn't make me good. I get a tax rebate for the charity. What does your family do to celebrate today?"
She squeezed his shoulders. Then she stood and stretched her arms. "Nothing now, or I wouldn't be here with you."
He stood as well and grabbed his pants from the floor. "What did you do for Christmas that made you happy?"
Unashamed, she picked up the remnants of her bra and underwear off the floor. The dress hung on the chair, so she hadn't ruined the most expensive outfit she'd ever touched.
She smiled to herself. "After presents?"
He left the room. She held her bra over her chest as she inched out of the second floor master bedroom. Peter crossed the living room and then picked up packages. He carried a few boxes stacked on top of each other, and she slipped into the bedroom again. She made it to the adjoining bathroom as Peter returned and dropped the bags on the bed.
"Yes, after presents."
Those were not presents for her. She knew better. She wrapped the robe around herself and came back. Then she rubbed her head and asked, "What's this?"
"Answer my question."
The boxes held her gaze. She sat on the bed and stared at them. "Dad would make the best hot chocolate in the world. Then we'd sit by the fireplace, and he would read me a book. Then we ate some store-bought meal he brought home that tried to recreate a traditional family meal that you see in the movies. Christmas night was always movie night."
He covered his mouth, and she didn't understand what happened. He then said, "You'll be disappointed with what's inside these, Belle."
"What is it?"
He shook his head and pushed one of the boxes toward her. "You can open it. They are all for you."
She swallowed, unsure what happened. Then she unwrapped the box and said, "It's clothes."
He crossed his arms. "It's options to wear to the hospital."
No one ever bought her options for outfits. She wasn't and never would be bought. She stood up.
"We agreed, Peter. I have my own clothes."
He nodded his head, like he understood. "My secretary and my sister decided to send them. Don't feel obligated."
"Do all your dates get this treatment?"
"I don't normally take my dates to meet my family."
It was Christmas, and his secretary sounded efficient. She stood and stared at him. "I feel weird. I have a full time job, though I've not had much time to shop."
He shrugged. "Then don't wear these and give them away."
Perhaps she was being overly sensitive. Peter was nothing like she'd been warned. She swallowed.
"It is pretty, though, and red is a Christmas color. I'll wear it. Are the other boxes your outfit choices?"
"My name is here." He flipped open a box and revealed a gray business suit and a red tie. " This one is for the hospital."
The dress fit perfectly. Belle fixed her lipstick. It must be nice to have servants that took care of everything, though technically a secretary wasn't. Without knowing even her name, the woman knew her size. At some point, it would be polite to tell her ‘thank you’ as Belle personally hated shopping. She checked her lips in the mirror and then stared at herself. She looked pretty.
She left the bathroom and saw Peter on his phone WIFI, checking emails. She walked over and took his phone out of his hands. He gazed at her, and she dropped it on the bed. "No working today. You're with me, and you promised brunch."
He offered her his arm. The second she looped her arm with his though, he leaned over and kissed her cheeks.
"No one dares me, Belle, ever."
"Such a pity then."
As he led her past the bed, he pocketed his phone.
She pressed her lips together to keep herself from laughing as she said, "Guess they left you for me as they lacked the courage."
As they descended the stairs in her suite and headed toward the main room, Peter then asked, "How do you know people are generally afraid of me?"
Her eyes widened, but then she squeezed his arm. "It's how you talk about you being just like your father, and how you describe him."
He nodded as he held the door open for her. "What specifics have I said?"
She checked her pocketbook for her electronic key and followed him out. "That you protected your siblings from his wrath and that he told you that your mother didn't love you."
He reached over and rubbed her arm. "I didn't say that."
She pressed the elevator key. Her heart leapt in her chest, and she refused to wonder why.
She swallowed and said, "It's implied. What happened the day your mom left then if your father didn't tell you that?"
The elevator dinged. Then he answered, "Vicki was about to turn one. We had a birthday party planned."
They stepped inside and the sound of light samba filled the air. She pressed his arm. "And? Did she walk out the door telling you to fend for yourself?"