Page 100 of All the Beautiful Things
The groan that immediately unleashed from his throat and shot straight down mine gave me his answer. His kiss was forceful, igniting all those private parts of me he could do so well. My hands went to his shoulders to hold on so I didn’t collapse from the quaking in my knees.
Hot damn, this guy could kiss.
Right as I prepared myself to be bent over and taken at the kitchen table, he pulled back, gasping for air.
“No one has ever done something like this for me.”
“The tree is falling apart and kind of lame.”
“It’s perfect.” He pressed his thumb to my lips to silence me. “How did you get all of this?”
“Mostly Target.” I shrugged. “It’s not much, but I just… I wanted you to have this.”
“And you wanted it.”
Blush slid up my cheeks. “Yeah. A little.”
“It’s wonderful. Thank you. And that present?”
“It’s for you.”
“You didn’t need to buy me anything and this is more than enough. You, some wine, music, and a fire is the best gift you could give me.”
“Well then be prepared because I have more planned.”
“Should I pour the wine first then so we can get started?”
“By all means.”
29
Hudson
Iwasn’t sure what to expect with how secretive Lilly had been all afternoon, but it certainly wasn’t that she’d deck out my home for Christmas on a shoestring budget.
The Christmas tree was pathetic looking, crooked with limbs you could tell had been abused over the years. It curved to one side and the lights on it flickered sporadically, on the verge of blinking out completely.
The rest of the decorations were sparse, and yet she thought of everything down to the candles that were giving off a perfect cinnamon scent. Hell, she’d even flipped on the fireplace and “All I Want For Christmas Is You” was playing through my sound system.
The perfect song, because all I wanted was her, and yet my curiosity was piqued at the beautifully wrapped present sitting beneath the tree.
I filled our wine and while Lilly took her first sip, I kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
After all, I had presents of my own to give her.
In my bedroom, I reached beneath my bed where I’d hidden her presents, gift-wrapped from the stores. I was a pretty damn intelligent man. Capable of basic homeownership remodeling. I could wield a hammer and screwdriver and drill with the best of them. When it came to taping and folding wrapping paper, I became all thumbs.
Back in the living room, Lilly was on the couch, feet curled beneath her like usual and her gaze was on the fire.
But she wasn’t there.
For all of her excitement and teasing earlier, she might have been sitting on my couch but the woman was miles away, a glazed expression as she watched the flames from the electric fireplace.
It was then I noticed the stack of papers on the coffee table. I set her presents beneath the tree, keeping my eyes on her as I moved. She didn’t so much as blink as I walked in front of her. Taking my place next to her, I reached for the stack of what I noticed weren’t papers, but envelopes, wrapped in a strip of linen cloth that was fraying and falling apart. Some of the letters were old enough they had started to yellow. Others were torn at the edges, like they’d been opened and read and reused over time.
“What is this?”
“Letters I sent my parents when I was in prison.”
