A fireplace crackled in her ears. Belle swallowed. Her naked body was still warm and tangled with Peter's. This was so unlike her. She sniffed the air, and his oak scent overwhelmed her. Another snap in the air caught her attention.

She lifted her head and gazed out the door. Her stare stopped as she saw that Peter's big, brown eyes were wide awake.

He nodded at her and said, "Merry Christmas."

There was no use pretending last night hadn't happened. For the next few days, she'd live like nothing mattered. She licked her lips. He was so well-built, everywhere. A prickle of her cheeks made her think she blushed again. She straightened her spine.

"Merry Christmas back at you, Peter."

He pointed to her nightstand. "Is this picture of your mother?"

"Yes. I like to travel with her. I take her everywhere I go."

"You have her face."

"No, she's far prettier."

"Don't put yourself down."

He rolled on top of her. Her body was so slick from their five times last night. She left her hands above her head and didn't struggle.

"I have something for you."

She covered her lips. A tremble inside her grew as he smiled at her. She licked her lips. There was no time for presents.

"I don't have anything for you. I didn't know we'd do this."

He handed her a thin, narrow box. Her heart raced. What happened between them wasn't about clothes, and he hadn't had any time to buy anything. Nothing else would fit in the box, though. She bit her lip and opened the box.

Wrapping paper covered something hard. She let out a breath as she stared at a picture of them dancing together last night.

"How did you print this?"

"I told the photographer to wrap it and deliver it your hotel. I heard the knock, and you were sleeping. I hope you like it."

"It's thoughtful." She dropped her hands to her side. "Peter, you didn't have to. I seriously didn't get you anything."

"I can think of presents I'd like from you." He inched the sheets lower. "One more peek at your naked body would be the best present."

Now wasn't the time to be shy. He'd already had his hands all over her. She held steady and nodded.

"Then unwrap the sheets off me."

His eyes lit up like he was a boy on Christmas morning as she brushed her fingers against his five o'clock shadow. He then kissed her nipples, one at a time.

"You're perfect."

A giggle escaped her lips as she arched to let him touch her again. "I have the same parts every woman on earth has."

He sat beside her, but their legs stayed entwined. He ran his hand through her hair.

"It's the whole package Belle. It's your sexy skin, sexy lips, the words that come out of them, and how you radiate warmth from your very soul."

Her heart lifted. She believed every word. "Peter, sometimes you are a poet."

"Only for you." He ran his hands through her hair now. "And never tell anyone."

"Fair deal." This seemed so unlike her. The lightness inside her chest sent something peaceful and wonderful throughout her entire body. She giggled. "How do I radiate anything?"

His fingers brushed against her cheek. "It's because you're real."

Her heartbeat increased as she stared into Peter's eyes. She licked her lips and asked, "That's what drove you to me then?"

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?"

He stiffened and stood taller. As the elevator doors opened, they stepped into the lobby. "She didn't say anything to me. She saw me on the marble staircase as she stormed out of the living area. She had just argued with my father. I thought she'd be right back, but she never walked in the door again."

Someone snapped their picture. Peter kept his arm at his side and didn't blink. He wasn't a celebrity. She crossed her arms in defense and then stared at his profile. "That doesn't make sense. How old were you?"

"Four, almost five. And you were right, my father told me not to trust any woman, including my mother, as all women have their price."

He never broke their stride as he escorted her through the lobby where people were checking out and heading for a cruise. He held the door for her. His limo waited for them.

The driver held open her door. She nodded as a thank you and then slid inside. Peter then joined her in the backseat. Her heartbeat raced as she thought he should have someone way more elegant on his arm, but then she told herself this whole thing was temporary. She dropped her arms and let her body relax.

"You do keep looking for my price, don't you?"

He reached for her hand, so she dropped it in her lap for him to hold. His fingers linked with hers again, and then he kissed it. "I haven't figured you out. Thank you for helping at the hospital today."

Leaving Washington and coming here had been the best idea she'd ever had. The butterflies in her stomach were still there, but at the moment, less obvious.

"I don't know how to prove myself. It's a hard sell. My own father is too busy for me these days." She averted her gaze. It was best to change the conversation. "What happens at the hospital?"

"We visit patients, see what their needs are. Then we go to my house and have a nice quiet dinner. You'll like Starr Island."

"What happened to brunch?"

"Dinner is more intimate."

"I was promised brunch."

"That was before you and I made love. Is the change of plans a problem?"

"No, I guess not." Perhaps her unexpected vacation meant she could continue being someone else like she was with him. "I'd like to see your home. Is it a nice place to see the stars at night?"

"You might say that. The celebrities have really turned our family homestead into something else entirely."

She tugged her ear with her free hand. "Now I'm intrigued. I wish I could say yes, but my friend Em made me swear I'd squeeze her in."

"I'll make sure she and your friends are taken care of and get you to the hotel to meet her."

Silence clung in the air. She listened to her heartbeat and swallowed. Perhaps he was right. She could pretend to be this nice, sweet Belle version of herself for a short while more.

"Then let's do it."

"I think we did it last night, but I'll be ready for more of you this evening."

"Ha, ha, Peter. Not everything relates to sex." She squeezed his hand that held hers as she shook her head. "We might again, if I'm persuaded you're not judging me."

"There is something I should tell you."

His gaze narrowed, and she stilled. Her lips parted, but her eyes didn't quite close yet. Her pulse was raised, and adrenaline ensured all she could see was him beside her. He lowered his head, and his lips came closer to hers. She licked her lips and closed her eyes.

"Belle..."

He hesitated, though his face held a slight blush.

She opened her lips. "Yeah."

With his lips hovering beside hers, every cell in her body was awake and alive. She knew where he was from how the air around her practically sang with energy.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and said, "I like you."

Melted butter didn't feel this good. She kept her eyes closed and her lips close to his. "I don't know what's going on, but this is the first Christmas I've enjoyed in a long time. I am afraid of what's happening."

There was something else that he meant to say. She could see the conflict of light that displayed in his eyes. She swallowed. For now, she'd let him figure out his pace. Whatever it was that haunted him, it couldn't be worse than what his father had done to him. Then his lips brushed hers, and she lost any other thought for that moment. All she could see were stars and him. Peter Morgan was perfect.