Page 26 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
“Really? Why?”
She presses into me, her chest coming in contact with mine. “I figured you’d suggest room service.”
I lean back down, my lips just inches away from hers. “While that does sound amazing, if we stay in this room, I'm going to ignore your stomach and fuck you until neither of us can walk. My only meal is going to be your pussy, and you’re going to havemy cock for dessert. And for what I have planned, I’m going to need you well fed.”
Kat is hungry in every sense of the word if her dilated eyes are any sort of signal. “You have plans?”
“Oh Kat,” I say, going in for one more kiss. “So many plans.”
As hard as it was to keep my hands off Kat while we got ready—and holy shit was it hard, given the woman literally got dressed in front of me so I know for a fact which pair of panties she chose to wear tonight—I did it. An hour later, we’re walking hand-in-hand down to The Lookout, the restaurant at the Timberline Inn.
“Two?” the hostess asks.
“Yes. Table for Ross.”
She checks her reservations before grabbing two menus. “Yes, Mr. Ross. Right this way.”
I move my hand to the small of Kat’s back as we walk through the restaurant. I keep one eye on where we’re going, and another to take in as much as I can. Good ambiance. Soft lighting that’s the perfect amount of not too dark and not too bright. Instrumental Christmas music filling the air, but again, at the perfect volume, so guests don’t have to shout. Tea lights are on each of the tables, adding to the intimate feel of the restaurant.
“This place is gorgeous,” Kat says, and now that I look at her, her gaze looks a lot like mine, taking in every little detail. She’s likely doing it out of pleasure, while I’m taking mental notes of every single thing that sticks out to me, good and bad.
“It really is. The perfect place for a real first date.”
“Second date.”
We share a smile as the hostess puts down our menus and I take the moment to pull Kat’s chair out for her.
“Why, thank you,” she says as she slides in. “Quite the gentleman.”
I laugh as I take a seat across from her. “In some areas.”
I send her a wink, and a slight blush creeps over her cheeks as the waitress comes over to greet us. She tells us the specials for the night—including a steak dish that I’ll absolutely be ordering—and we each order an old fashioned before she walks away.
Kat is still looking over the menu, but I can’t stop staring at her.
“What?” she asks when she catches me.
“I just can’t get over this,” I say. “The chances for this to be happening have to be less than winning the lottery or hitting a royal flush on the deal.”
“Probably true,” she says as she closes the menu. “Did you say you’re here for work?”
I nod. “Yes. Well, I’m meeting a potential new client. We’re sneaking in a meeting before the holidays to see if we’re going to be a fit.”
“Wow. What are the odds indeed?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
I can tell that her brain is doing the same as mine, trying to make sense of all of these coincidences as our waitress comes back over with our drinks. Something isn’t right. I have a weird feeling about this whole thing, but I can’t quite put a finger on it.
“What is it you do?” I ask. “I don’t think we ever talked about it.”
She takes a sip of her drink before answering. “I’m in public relations. Well, more media strategy for corporate businesses. You?”
I choke on the bourbon. Because in that second, everything is coming into focus.
Why she was at speed dating.
