‘Tis the season of Wicked Deeds (A Holiday romance Book 1)
‘Tis the season of Wicked Deeds: Chapter 7

“Need help?” his oh-so amused voice asks from above.

It jerks me out of my embarrassed daze and I lurch to my feet, dusting off my jeans. My head feels dizzy from the sudden movement. I frantically search for an excuse for my dumb-ass move but lose all track of thoughts as I meet his unnaturally light brown eyes.

Holy Jesus! Did I mention he’s grown a short beard since the last time I saw him?

“Find anything interesting down there?”

I take him in up close and personal. A full-body shiver rocks through my body as his masculine scent hits my nostrils. His trimmed beard—thicker than a stubble—covers his square jaw, adding to his rough-around-the-edges sex appeal. The rest of him radiates warmth and spice.

Is it just me, or has he become tenfold sexier in the last six months?

Or maybe it’s the horny celibate inside me talking.

His teasing manages to cut through the spell I’m locked in. Instead of trying to come up with a rational reason, I dig myself into a deeper hole. “Umm, do I know you?”

His eyes narrow a fraction as I feign ignorance, and he steps forward. “Yes, you do, darling. Some might say too well.”

“Too well?” I squeak out.

He bends low, gaze dropping to my lips, voice husky and filthy, “I haven’t forgotten how sweet your cherry lips taste.” Without letting me recover, he scolds, “So stop pretending you don’t know me or that we haven’t been on a date.”

“I… I was just admiring the plants.” I point to the potted plant in the corner.

His lips twitch. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I parrot back to him.

“Because it looked like you were trying to hide from me.”

I back away and scoff, “You’re mistaken.”

“So, you didn’t hide behind the couch as soon as you saw me?”

Fuck. He isn’t showing any mercy. I cock my hip and shrug. “Just looking at and smelling the pretty flowers here.”

“And you had to get down on your knees for that?” He raises one eyebrow, knowing I’m full of shit.

“Uh-huh. Yep!” Great. I’ve lost my ability to speak past unintelligible sounds.

I’m also confused as to why he’s being so flirty after our disastrous first date. After he said we weren’t compatible and rejected me.

Well, Tina.

Not that he knows he rejected the wrong girl. Nevertheless, he had walked out looking pretty mad.

See? This is what I was trying to avoid. The complication and the confusion. Not a minute in his vicinity and I’m already a hot mess.

Time to scram.

I take a step back and grab the handle of my suitcase resting beside the couch. “Well, it was—”

My words turn into a squeal as my suitcase decides to add to my misery by skidding across the smooth floor, taking me with it. Julian’s arm snakes out in time to stop my fall and pull me flush against his strong chest.

Kill me now.

I grab onto his thick biceps, my fingers barely closing around them.

Jeez. What does he lift? A mountain?

“Easy there, darling,” he murmurs, his minty breath ghosting over my forehead.

I lift my head. “I swear I’m not normally so clumsy. Or a weirdo, Julia—”

“Kingston,” he cuts me off.

I frown and gape at him in utter bewilderment.

He explains, chucking at my expression, “I go by my middle name.”

Oh yes. He had a middle name that I never paid much attention to. Honestly, I hardly read his profile minus a few basic details. But even those, I’ve forgotten. Only his effect on my needy body stayed imprinted in my mind. And I remember every second of our date just like someone remembers the movie they’ve watched a thousand times.

Our chemistry is still as strong and undeniable as ever. It’s like no time has passed and we’re meeting for yet another date.

Dammit. It’s going to be a long week if he’s also staying here. Our chances of running into each other multiply. With it, the probability of him uncovering my real identity. Feeling my thoughts spiraling, I focus on the now.

“Kingston,” I softly say his name and realize it suits him so perfectly.

Sensual yet rugged.

I could’ve known this on our first date if I hadn’t been so adamant on maintaining distance.

The dominant edge I’m enamored by flashes in his eyes, causing a low throb in my pussy to stir to life. Especially because of the way I’m hanging onto him. He doesn’t seem in a hurry to let go of me either.

The trance breaks when my name is shouted from the background.

“Miss Twinkle Seth!”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Miss Twinkle!” the receptionist repeats.

Panic keeps me paralyzed.

Kingston looks over my shoulder, brow furrowing. Hilda must be looking in my direction. I stay mute, praying for magic to get me out of this mortifying situation.

Why isn’t the ground swallowing me up?

Maybe I should dig a hole in the snow, crawl inside, and hide forever.

Kingston’s grip loosens, sliding to my waist. Of course, he doesn’t let me go entirely. The poor man doesn’t know that I am Twinkle and not Tina. The girl he originally wanted to marry.

Footsteps approach from behind, and a second later someone taps me on my shoulder. “Miss Twinkle?”

It’s Kingston’s turn to freeze and give me a look of bafflement.

I’m left with no choice but to turn, making his hands drop, and hoarsely reply, “Yes?”

“Your room is ready,” Hilda informs me with a polite smile, unfazed that I basically acted deaf a few seconds ago. Points for maintaining professionalism.

Behind me, I can feel Kingston’s burning gaze drilling into my back.

The jig is up.

“Thank you,” I reply to Hilda. “Can you give me a moment please?”

“Sure. Just come to the desk when you’re ready.”

As she walks away, I fight the urge to run away and slowly turn around to face Kingston. Traveling my gaze up his tight abs and wide chest, which takes a Herculean effort, I lock my eyes with his impassive ones. “So, funny story…”

“You’re not Tina.”

Is that relief I sense in his tone? No way. I must be imagining it.

I gulp and shake my head, feeling like a criminal on trial.

His expression transforms into disbelief and he roughly mutters, “Wow, never thought I’d be getting catfished.”

“I’m so sorry,” I rush to say and spill everything in typical word-vomit fashion. “It’s not because you’re ugly or not husband material, it’s just my best friend Tina isn’t ready for marriage. It was her mother who set up her profile. So, she asked me to go instead and let you off easy. You see, she’s not very good at saying no. She’s the worst people pleaser ever to exist and—”

“So, you’re not looking for a virgin man?”

“Of course not… Wait, what?” His sudden question throws me for a loop. I carefully study his handsome face and notice he doesn’t look raging mad. As he should. In fact, he appears positively satisfied with the news I’m not Tina.

“On our date, everything you said you were looking for in a husband was made-up lies to get me to reject you? To purposely ruin the date?”

“I think you’re focusing on the wrong details.”

“You did want me, didn’t you?”

When I don’t immediately deny it, he smirks. My legs turn to jelly at the full intensity of it. What is happening?

“It explains everything. Your insane demands. You stubbornly resisting me.” Again, he stares at my mouth while biting the corner of his. “The way you kissed me back.” When he lifts his gaze back to mine, they’re darker. “I’ve been going insane thinking what went wrong. Now I know.”

“I’m still the wrong girl for you.”

“Admit you like me,” he dares.

“Kingston,” I sigh.

“Twinkle.”

Oh, how I have been dying to hear my name on his lips. Spoken in that rich and masculine voice, it awakens goosebumps along my arms. Thank God, he can’t see. His closeness isn’t letting me think clearly. So, I take a step back.

He takes one forward.

My heart hammers inside my chest.

“The truth changes nothing.” Another step back. “We still aren’t compatible.”

“We can be.” He inches closer. “That kiss was proof.”

“Like I said, the truth changes nothing.” I remain stubborn.

But so is he.

“You’re not denying you want me and that we have chemistry.” His voice drops an octave. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me that you don’t feel it. Our paths have crossed again for a reason. I believe it deep in my bones.”

“It’s my best friend you were interested in.”

His gaze flashes with something dangerous. “I haven’t been interested in another woman since I saw you sitting on the bar in a pretty sundress six months ago. Except for your name, everything’s the same.”

The revelation short-circuits my brain.

He’s been thinking about me too.

“Yet you said no to me at the agency.”

“That’s because I didn’t know the truth.” He cages me against the couch as my back smacks against it. “The last thing I wanted to do was chase after a woman adamant on wanting nothing to do with me, who’d go as far as to act like she hated our kiss. Trust me, I came really fucking close to hunting you down and begging for another chance. And, darling, I never beg.”

My stubbornness becomes a puddle on the floor.

My pulse skyrockets at the raw honesty in his confession. I can sense the palpable restraint he practiced to stop himself from chasing after me. It doesn’t matter, though; he wouldn’t have been able to find me once he saw the real Tina.

But the fact I reduced him to wanting to break his own rule is enough to deepen my attraction to him.

The thing holding me back from exploring our connection is our different visions for our futures.

He wants marriage; I’m unsure and carrying baggage.

My parents’ divorce has damaged and skewed my views on love and relationships so fiercely, there’s no fixing them. I know my parents’ failed marriage isn’t my fault and that I might not end up like them, but the small chance I may, it scares the bejesus out of me.

Fuck. I didn’t come here to work on my deep-seated issues.

Before Kingston can dig up more of my broken parts, I summon the wall that keeps people at a distance. “You shouldn’t. Because no amount of begging will work on me, Kingston.”

I completely forgot about his ability to stay unruffled because he gives me a challenging smirk. Leaning back, he crosses his arms. “Is that right?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“Sounds almost like a dare.”

“It’s not a dare!” I snap.

He groans low in his throat. “God! I forgot how fun it is to push your buttons.”

“Whatever. Move out of my way.”

He obliges by stepping out of my personal space. I grab my suitcase and march toward the front desk. Thankfully, without any tripping fiasco.

Behind me, I hear his footsteps following suit. What is he plotting? To stalk me around the resort we’re obviously sharing until I give in to our pull?

Whirling around, I order, “Stop following me.”

He says nothing and brushes past me with that infuriating grin plastered on his face. I turn in time to see him walk behind the sturdy desk with all the authority of a person belonging there. Hilda is nowhere in sight.

I close the distance and glare at him. “What are you doing, Kingston?”

He ignores me and grabs a keycard.

“Put it back. It’s not your personal property,” I hiss.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He finally meets my panicked gaze and smugly drops the bomb, “Did I not mention I own the resort?”