A Christmas Reservation (The Royale Series) Page 3

  “I may have mentioned you were cute. But I’m not interested in dating. I’ve got too much going on right now.”

  Peter smiles, a little triumphant. “I get that. Life can get crazy.”

  I nod. The door is right there. I can leave any time I want. But for some reason, my feet feel glued to the floor. I’m cold and a little uneasy, but Peter’s presence is warm and welcoming.

  “I didn’t know you were a doctor,” I blurt out. “That’s impressive.”

  “My mom tells me she’s very proud of me, so I like to think so,” he chuckles. I let a giggle escape my lips. Handsome as sin, a doctor, and funny? Peter was shaping up to be quite the package.

  “I should really get going,” I tell him. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Just doing my job,” he dismisses with a shrug.

  I give him a polite smile before starting toward the door. Just as I place my hand on the door handle, he pipes up again.

  “Can I give you my number?” he asks.

  “Sorry?”

  Peter approaches slowly, cautiously. With the pen in his hand, he writes down a set of numbers on the blank edge of the form on his clipboard and tears it off. He hands the number to me, a hopeful light in his dazzling blue eyes. I take it hesitantly, unsure what he’s asking.

  “Like I said,” I begin slowly, “I’m not interested in dating.”

  “Forgive me for being so forward, but who said anything about dating?”

  My heart stops beating, my stomach flips, and my throat seals up. I can think of a thousand excuses to say no. I don’t do relationships. I don’t even do casual relationships. All I have time for is work.

  Peter has a confident grin on his lips –his irresistible, tantalizing lips. He looks at me with genuine interest. “The way I see it,” he begins slowly, “is that you seem to like what you see. And I just so happen to feel the same way.”

  “If you like what you see, you need your eyes checked,” I snort.

  “I’m serious, Kate,” he tells me, his words sure and firm. “And if you’re too busy, that’s perfectly fine. I’m busy, too. But if you ever want to give me a call, I’d definitely answer.”

  I frown. “That’s a very well-rehearsed line. Do you do this often?”

  Peter shakes his head. “No,” he promises. “Maybe we can come up with some stress relief alternatives.”

  His answer leaves me feeling electric. It leaves a warm, giddy feeling in my chest. There’s something about the way he looks at me, something about the way he leans in slightly so that I can’t help but make him the center of my attention, has my pulse quickening. He holds my gaze with ease, unapologetically confident and calm. He holds my gaze like it’s a challenge, to see who breaks away first despite not wanting to.

  I slip his phone number in my jacket pocket, obviously being the first to give in. “I should get going,” I tell him.

  “Right. Take care of yourself, Kate,” he tells me.

  As I leave the room, I can feel his eyes on me –like I’m the only thing in the world that’s capable of capturing his interest. It has my heart slamming in my chest, but also fills me with a level of exhilaration that I haven’t felt in years.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Peter

  I don’t usually have plans once I’m off work. I return to my drab little apartment and kick back on the couch, turn on the TV, and drink a few beers. I love my job, but it’s exhausting most times. By the time my shift’s over, my feet hurt, my shoulders are stiff, and all I want to do is pass out while reruns of Frosty the Snowman play on screen. But today was delightfully different. Of all the people in the world to show up in the emergency room, I didn’t expect her.

  I thought about Kate for a little longer than I probably should have when she left that day at the bar. It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did. She was just some random girl who I struck out with. Some random girl with enticingly beautiful lips and gorgeous eyes that I can’t tear myself away from. Some random girl who was so adorably shy and flustered around me that I just wanted to wrap my arms around her and shield from all the noise and overbearing lights of the bar.

  The digital clock that rests beside me on the end table reads 11:53 PM. I’m normally home a lot earlier than this, but traffic had been terrible. I consider for the seventh time this month about getting a metro pass, but the task of learning the ins and outs of the transit routes and transfers seems daunting to me. I already have so much that I need to know –minute details about the immune system, proper treatment procedure for trauma injuries, all the names of the nurses who work with me– it’s just too much for me to handle. I rub my eyes, sleep making my eyelids feel heavy.

  Who said anything about dating? Maybe we can come up with some stress relief alternatives.

  My words echo loudly in the back of my mind. I shudder at the memory. God, what a fucking line. David is really starting to have a bad influence on me. I must have looked like the biggest asshole to ever walk the face of the Earth. If I didn’t scare her off before, I had now. It was like I had no control over the words that came out of my mouth. My eyes fell on her and my brain just went blank. There was something between us, some hot spark that’s impossible to put a name to.

  Everything about her screams serious. From the way she walks, the way she always seems to wear a frown, to the very modest and –quite frankly, bland– clothes that she wears. The idea that I could show her a good time, to help her momentarily forget all of her worries, has my pulse quickening. She made it loud and clear that she had no intention of ever going out with me, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company.

  I don’t expect her to call. She probably won’t. And that’s perfectly fine. But it’s eating me up inside to know I’ll probably never hear from her again. The chances of running into her again are slim to none. It’s bothering me more than I know it should. But when the clock strikes twelve, I let my head roll back against the seat of the couch and let out a deep breath. I get up and start toward the bedroom, ready to call it a night.

  Out of nowhere, my cellphone rings in my pocket. My heart stops. It’s from a number I don’t recognize. Could it be her? Could I really be this lucky? I don’t believe much in Christmas miracles, but it’s starting to feel like one.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi,” comes a shaky, soft voice like honey.

  I clench my fist in front of me triumphantly. It’s her. It’s Kate. Oh my God what do I say now? Remaining cool and composed is probably the best and first step. It’s after midnight, though, which can really mean only one thing. Has she been thinking about me as much as I’ve been thinking about her? The idea excites me to no end. I force myself to breathe steadily and keep my voice even.

  “I’m glad you called,” I tell her. It’s nothing short of the truth. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m good,” she says slowly, testing the waters. “Are you…” she trails off. I want to keep her talking. I know the guts it takes to make a call like this, and I have a feeling she’s never done it before.

  “Are you free?” she finally finishes.

  I chuckle. “Yes, I’m free.”

  “Oh, that’s good. I mean, not good, but that’s nice,” she rambles. She lets out a defeated sigh. “You know what, forget it. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “No, wait!” I exclaim. She doesn’t hang up right away, which I consider an immediate win. “Do you want to come over?” I pose the question carefully. “Maybe grab a drink?”

  There’s nothing but silence over the receiver, which has me worried that Kate’s about to tell me no. But then she clears her throat and lets out a small, “Sure.”

  I can barely contain my excitement.

  “I’ll text you the address,” I tell her.

  “Right,” she says before hanging up.

  The pads of my thumbs fly quickly over my phone’s screen, typing in my location and sending it off to her number. A few seconds later, the message is marked as
seen.

  I bite my lip. There’s a good chance she won’t come. Again, that’s totally fine.

  But what if she does show up at my door? I don’t know why I’m second guessing myself. It’s clear that we find each other attractive, but the thought of having her over for the night has my stomach doing giddy little flips.

  I quickly hop into the shower and scrub down, mainly because I still smell like the hospital. I dry off and throw on a pair of navy-blue sweatpants and a plain grey t-shirt before finally making my way back out into the living room. Everything’s relatively tidy, for the most part. Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to impress her. We both know what this is –casual sex with a stranger. I don’t need to fluff any of the couch cushions or bring out my fine china.

  Time seems to deliberately drag its feet, knowing just how anxious I am. When there’s finally a soft, timid knock at my front door, I nearly jump out of my skin in surprise. I don’t even hesitate. I stride over to the door and open it, unabashedly excited.

  Kate’s still in her uniform. I wonder if she just got off from work. Her hair is still slicked back in a tight ponytail, and she’s buried the bottom half of her face into her puffy red scarf. There are flakes of snow on the shoulders of her jacket and melted into her hair, and her cheeks are red from windchill.

  “Hi,” she greets me in a timid voice.

  “Hi.” I open the door, gesturing for her to come in. She brushes past me and takes a quick look around. I can feel the cool outdoor air come in with her, so I close the door quickly.

  “Nice place,” she comments. She’s just being polite. In truth, I know it isn’t much to look at. I spend most of my time at the hospital, so I don’t put much effort into make it look nice.

  “Thanks,” I tell her, feeling just a bit awkward.

  Kate shrugs off her jacket, but doesn’t hand it to me despite me gesturing to take it off her hands. She drapes it over her hands, which she’s folded politely in front of her.

  “So,” she says, the shyest of smiles on her lips. It’s so sweet that I feel my heart twist in my chest. Does she know how adorable she is? Is she doing this to me on purpose?

  “So,” I echo.

  It’s admittedly been a while since I’ve done something like this. I’m out of practice. All I ever get to do lately is worry about patients and paperwork. Kate doesn’t seem like she can tell, thank my lucky stars.

  I clear my throat. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Sure,” she says, almost relieved.

  I make my way over to the little station I have set up in the kitchen. There are a few bottles of wine and a small collection of spirits on the countertop. I pour two glasses of whisky, recalling our night at the bar. I return to her promptly, handing her the glass.

  “Sorry, I don’t have ice,” I say.

  “That’s okay,” she replies, shaking her head.

  There’s a moment of silence between us as we both tilt our heads back to take a drink. There’s no need to beat around the bush, but here we are doing the whole song and dance.

  “This is a little awkward,” she admits to me. “I’m sorry.”

  “Please, don’t apologize. It doesn’t have to be.”

  “Maybe we should just… I don’t know. Get on with it.”

  I throw her a wink. “Right to business. I can get behind that.”

  Kate chuckles sheepishly, but she doesn’t look away. There’s a spur of something fiery behind her dark eyes, a look that makes my breath catch in my throat. I sit down on the couch and she follows, hesitantly taking the spot directly beside me. Her thumb traces the edge of her glass.

  “I get the feeling you don’t do this a lot,” I tell her.

  “No, I really don’t.”

  “I guess, if we’re going to get right down to business, we should maybe state exactly what we both want. Just so we’re all clear.”

  “Right,” she agrees. “I guess that makes sense.”

  I lean in a little, looking her straight in those massive doe-eyes. I half-expect her to smell like a kitchen, given where she works. Surprisingly, she smells sweet like vanilla.

  “We’re both busy people,” I start.

  Kate nods in agreement. “Very busy people.”

  “And you’ve made it clear that you’re not looking for anything serious.”

  “I’m not,” she confirms.

  “Then we agree that this is totally casual.”

  “Right.”

  “I do have one rule before we begin, though,” I tell her seriously.

  “What is it?”

  “You can’t fall in love with me.”

  Kate actually laughs. It’s musical and light, something that stands in stark contrast to her overall grave demeanor. It’s a breath of fresh air, it’s warm sunshine on a chilly day. The entire mood shifts from uncomfortable to light and breezy in just seconds.

  “Sure,” she agrees with a beautiful smile. “Same goes for you. And no talking about our personal lives. This is just sex. No need to bond or anything.”

  “Agreed.”

  I smile, taking her glass and placing both of her drinks down on the coffee table. Now that everything’s out of the way, I suppose there’s only one thing left to do. I lean in slowly, eying her full lips. I reach out with one hand and cup her face, noting how soft her skin feels beneath my fingers. My God she smells good. Kate closes her eyes and moves to close the remaining gap. Our lips brush against one another; soft and chaste. I gently press my tongue to her lips, which she parts without much prompting. Within a matter of seconds, our tongues are exploring one another’s mouths.

  There’s something almost desperate about the intensity in which she kisses me. It’s like something deep down inside her has been unleashed. In one swift motion, Kate moves and straddles my lap between her thighs, pinning me to the couch with her palms on my chest. She moans into my mouth, low and unhurried. The sound sends a chill down my spine and goes straight to my crotch, which she’s now slowly and deliberately grinding against. I would be lying if I said the pressure feels great –because it’s fucking fantastic.

  I break away for a moment, holding her by the shoulders. She looks surprised.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “One more thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, please tell me. We can stop any time.”

  Kate considers this for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” she promises.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kate

  We’re a mess of arms and legs, practically tripping over each other in a rush to make it to his bedroom. I’m busy lifting his shirt up and off, exposing the skin of his chest and stomach for me to let my fingers explore. He’s busy fumbling to get my shirt unbuttoned with varying degrees of success. Peter can’t seem to get the damn thing off and huffs in frustration. He takes a step back but bumps into the door frame.

  “Jesus,” he chuckles, breathless. “Did you super glue this?”

  I laugh as I reach down to help him. My chest is exposed and flushed. My entire body is feverish with want. I can barely wait to have him moaning and panting, demanding for more and more. I finally undo the last button and shrug my shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. Peter reaches forward for me, slipping one hand around my waist and the other squeezing my left breast. His massive hands cover the whole area, flooding my skin with warmth.

  We eventually make it to his bed. I guide him a little. The back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, forcing him to sit. I kneel before him and hook my fingers over the waistband of his sweats and drag it off of him. I quickly discover he didn’t bother with underwear. He’s completely exposed to me, his penis already swollen and dripping precum. The cool air against his sensitive skin forces a gasp to escape from Peter’s lips.

  I don’t allow myself to think. I know that if I start to think about all of this, I’m going to psych myself out and want to leave. But I know in my gut that I
don’t. So I carefully place my lips around the tip of his length, rewarded by wonderfully loud moan from Peter.

  “Fuck,” he hisses. His pupils are blown wide, mouth a gape slightly and brows bunched together like he’s in agony. I’m astounded by the noises he makes and the way his breath hitches when I begin to take more of him into my mouth.

  I swirl my tongue around his tip, enjoying the way his hips are already bucking forward. I relax the back of my throat and take as much of his penis as I can. I’m unable to make it all the way to the base, but judging by the way Peter moans my name, I don’t think he minds. I begin to bob my head up and down, licking his member all over so that it’s slick with my saliva. I hollow my cheeks and suck in earnest, drawing out delightful whines and sighs from his lips. After a while, I feel him reach to place a hand on the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair and giving it a small tug.

  I stop immediately, grabbing him quickly by the wrist. His eyes snap open to look at me, full of concern.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks me hurriedly.

  “New rule,” I tell him. “Don’t pull my hair.”

  “Oh,” he breathes heavily, “okay. Sorry.”

  I’m about to return my attention to his aching length when he places a finger under my chin, encouraging me to look up.

  “Strip for me,” he orders.

  I smirk and get up off my knees. I take my sad excuse of a bra off first, exposing my small tits to him. My nipples are pink and hard, patches of my skin an embarrassing shade of pink. As I make quick work of my pants, Peter leans forward and takes my right nipple in his mouth as he strokes my sides with his massive, strong hands. When I finally get my pants button and zipper undone, I let the garment slip to the floor. I’m left standing there in just my thong, an undeniable wetness and heat between my thighs.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers to me, leaning a way to get a good look.

  “Where do you keep your condoms?” I ask. Like he said, right to business.