The clock on the oven read 6:45 as Alice shuffled back into the bathroom to fluff her curls for the tenth time. She eyed herself in the mirror, hoping her black, curve-hugging, turtleneck dress with a slit in the side constituted as "pretty." She managed to stuff her swollen ankle and brace into a tall black boot because there was no way in hell she was going out in public with just the brace and her bare tootsie. She applied pink lip gloss as a final touch and started to feel pretty good about her look, until she remembered that she'd be hobbling around on crutches all night.
She sipped a glass of wine as she waited because where was the fun in getting ready for a date if she couldn't be a little tipsy while doing it?
A knock sounded at the door, and a glance at the clock revealed that Peter was five minutes early. She grinned to herself thinking that even the suave, older werewolf wasn't immune to first date jitters.
The knowledge that he arrived early plus the wine working its way through her system gave her the confidence to open the door and lean her hip against the frame, throwing him a saucy smile.
"Eager, are we?"
His gaze narrowed on hers before he made a show of looking her up and down. He whistled and looked back up at her face with eyes bordering on wild.
"You have no idea, sweetheart. You're stunning."
The rough tone of his voice sent heat straight to her core, and she knew there was no way her panties were staying dry tonight.
"You're not so bad yourself," she said, taking in his hair, long enough that it was curled under his ears, the scruff across his jawline, the black button up, and the dark slacks that he wore so well. She bit her lip thinking about how his scruff would feel between her thighs, and she knew he could smell her arousal when his gaze darkened.
"Keep biting that lip, and we won't make it to dinner," he growled.
At this, she snapped out of her lust-filled haze and grabbed her purse off the entry table next to her. She was about to step out when she remembered the crutches sitting right behind the door.
"Ugh," she groaned, reaching around the door to get the god forsaken things. Peter chuckled at her antics and stepped out of the way as she placed the crutches under her armpits and began to move.
"Not so sexy now, huh?" she joked, feeling more and more insecure with each thunk of the crutches on the ground.
"Sexy and endearing," he replied earnestly, catching her gaze and slowing his pace to match hers.
He helped her get settled in his car, a sleek black Mercedes, and placed the crutches in the back seat. Once he started driving, he commented smartly, "I'm surprised you were able to squeeze your brace into that boot."
"Like a ham in a tube sock," she joked, and he laughed what was probably the first genuine laugh she'd heard from him. The thought made her smile.
"You have a really nice laugh," she said a bit shyly. "It's the kind of laugh that makes me want to laugh with you."
Peter turned to her with a look that was caught between curious and bashful. He gave her a nod, and she settled back into her seat and listened to the soft rock station he had on.
After a short drive, they arrived at a small Italian restaurant. Peter retrieved the crutches and leaned down to help her out of the seat, letting her grasp his shoulders as he pulled her up. Their chests were touching, and she could feel his warm breath on her face, a contrast to the cool winter air.
"Peter," she breathed.
"Alice," he mimicked.
"I think if I go in there with these crutches, I'll be a bull in a china shop," she admitted, biting her lip.
"What are you saying, sweetheart?" he smirked.
"Can you help me?" she looked up at him from under her lashes. Oldest trick in the book.
He studied her face before taking her arm and wrapping it around his waist.
"Step on my shoe," he ordered, gesturing to her injured foot (how he remembered which one it was, she had no idea), "and lean into me as much as you can."
"Are you sure?" she said hesitantly, "Those look like Prada."
"Yes, I'm sure," he rolled his eyes and lifted her into his side.
She did what he said, and Peter guided them forward, taking the weight off her injured side and effectively acting as a human crutch. They walked into the restaurant looking like one of those annoying couples who couldn't keep their hands off each other. The hostess led them to a table nestled into the corner of the restaurant, and Alice wondered if Peter requested something more private. Once they were seated, she took in the dimly lit restaurant, with candles strategically placed on tables and throughout the room to give it a soft, romantic glow. A small quartet played in the front of the restaurant.
She met Peter's questioning stare once she finished her perusal of the space.
"You did good, Hale," she said lightheartedly, but internally she wanted to cry at the thought he'd put into the night so far. The last date she went on was to a rundown Applebees, and the guy got wasted on long island iced teas and asked to split the bill. Although the night was still young, she didn't think there was a chance in hell Peter would split the bill with her.
"Only the best for you, my dear," he flashed a charming smile.
"So…" she started, having lost all coherent thought, trying to rack her brain for something to talk about, "what's your favorite color?"
She visibly cringed as soon as the words left her mouth, and Peter let out another genuine laugh.
"That's the best you could come up with?" he chuckled, taking a sip of his water.
She laughed at herself and admitted, "I'm sorry, I haven't been on a date in a while, and I'm horrible at small talk!"
"Well, that makes two of us," he smiled and reached for the drink menu. "So, from our previous conversation, I know you like wine. Let me try to guess which is your favorite."
Giving her an appraising look, he tapped his chin playfully and looked down at the menu.
"Actually, I'm going to guess you're a champagne girl," he decided.
"And what makes you think that?"
"Because of your bubbly personality," he joked, making her smile widen.
"Well, I must admit that I do enjoy the finer things in life," she quipped.
"And so, you'll have them," Peter stated before turning his attention to the approaching waitress.
True to his word, he ordered the most expensive bottle of champagne on the menu, and while she went to retrieve it, Alice leaned forward and captured his gaze.
"I know what wine suits you best."
"Oh, do you now," he raised his eyebrows and steepled his fingers on the table.
"Mhmm," she hummed coyly. "Zinfandel."
"And why is that?"
"Because you're bold, smooth, and rich," she smirked, feeling some of her confidence return at yet another laugh drawn from his lips.
"I have to admit, although you're related to Stiles, I didn't think you'd be this funny," Peter admitted as the waitress set down their champagne flutes and filled them with the liquid gold that is Dom Perignon.
Alice took a sip and moaned softly as the crisp bubbles hit her tongue. She opened her eyes to find Peter's hungry gaze on her, or more specifically, on her tongue that darted out to lick the champagne from her top lip.
Before he had a chance to say something that would send her into a tizzy, she asked, "So, how did you find me the other day? No one even knew I was missing."
He gave her a knowing look before perusing his menu.
"I felt that something was wrong, so I stopped by your house, and you weren't there," he said vaguely.
"You felt something was wrong? Are you sure you weren't just following me around being creepy?" she said skeptically.
His gaze snapped up to hers, and he clenched his jaw before saying, "Contrary to your belief, I have better things to do with my time than follow around a narcissistic woman."
Alice scoffed, trying to disguise the hurt look she was sure flitted across her face, and stared down at her menu.
She heard Peter sigh and felt his fingers brush her hand that was resting on the table.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," he paused before continuing, "I really did have a bad feeling about you. I can't describe it other than I knew I had to make sure you were okay. And when I couldn't find you at your house, I followed your scent and found you in the woods."
She kept her head down but peaked up at him through her lashes, gauging his sincerity. When she noted the softness of his face, she lifted her chin and met his gaze.
"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have called you creepy. That was mean," she conceded. "And whatever feeling you had, I'm grateful for it because without it, I'd probably be rotting in the woods right now."
He grimaced and shook his head before looking back at his menu saying, "So the prosciutto-wrapped chicken looks good."
Alice gave a slow smile, "Indeed it does."
The waitress came back to take their orders, and they seemed to fall into an introspective mood. The rest of dinner was spent stealing glances at each other, commenting on the food and music, and Alice describing her job at the clinic. When the check finally came, Alice opened her mouth to offer to split it, but Peter's glare had her sitting back in her seat and downing the last of the champagne.
He helped her out of the restaurant the same way they came in, but this time, instead of opening her door and helping her in, he pushed her up against his car and took her face in his hands, crashing his lips onto hers. Alice was in shock until Peter's hand tangled in her hair, and then her mind caught up to her body. She arched into him as his tongue swept over her bottom lip. She opened her mouth for him, desire pulsing through her core at the feel of his tongue on hers. His other hand traveled down her back until it reached the curve of her ass, which he grabbed roughly.
"The things I'm going to do to this ass," he whispered in her ear as he hiked her leg up around his hip and ground his erection into her.
She moaned and let her head fall back against the car at the feel of his dick rubbing just the right spot on her clit, and he took the opportunity to place hot, openmouthed kisses on her throat. She moaned even louder when he sucked on the skin just below her ear, and he paused then, pulling back to look at her with electrifying blue eyes.
"Your eyes," she gasped.
"It's a wolf thing," he growled, dropping her leg and pulling her dress down from where it had risen to her hips, giving him the briefest glimpse of her blue, lacy underwear.
"If we don't leave now, I will take you in this parking lot, and it's very likely we'll get arrested for public indecency," Peter said hotly as he opened her door and lowered her into the seat.
Alice slid down in her seat as he used supernatural speed to round the car and climb in.
Oh, you're in for it when you get home, she thought to herself.