Page 39 of Waiting for You (Balsam Cliffs #3)

Christmas morning. A holiday I’ve usually tried to avoid for years. The galas, the schmoozing, the clients, the constant heels. My feet hurt just thinking about it.

But not this Christmas. This year, I’m waking up wrapped in Hunter’s arms. His hair is disheveled from a night of orgasms, his mouth parted slightly from the light snores, and his glorious naked abs on display under my fingertips.

This year, Santa got me exactly what I want.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he mumbles into the top of my head.

“I can’t help it. I’m just thinking.”

He shifts me up so we’re laying face to face. “Oh yeah? What are you thinking about it?”

“Oh you know. Just this guy. He makes me happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Sounds like he’s a lucky bastard then to have you.” He peppers my face with kisses.

“I think I’m the lucky one.”

“Okay, let’s go! Santa came and I, for one, can’t wait to see what he brought.”

I eye him skeptically. “What did you do, Hunter Keaton?”

“Me?” He points to himself. “I didn’t do a thing, but Santa, he has magic powers.”

Pulling me up, he drops a tee over my head, and slips on boxers for himself. Leading me down the hallway he stops at the library and game room.

“Close your eyes.”

“Yes, sir.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I’m whisked off my feet and moved into the room.

“I didn’t want you to trip,” he whispers.

My feet hit a soft carpet. “Okay, open your eyes.”

I follow his direction and take in the space around me.

“Hunter,” I gasp out. “This is amazing.”

The shelves of the library are full. Shelves of classics, shelves of my books that I moved with me, and shelves of new books that look like the entirety of my wishlist. There is a new blanket on the couch, headphones, notebooks, and a small little fridge on one of the shelves closest to the couch.

Meow.

“Hunter. What is meowing?”

Turning around I see him holding the smallest little gray and white kitten.

I always wanted a fat cat to snuggle with while I read. But I never got one because Daddy was allergic. Hunter always promised me when we had our own place he’d build me a library and get me a cat.

Tears spring to my eyes.

“Don’t cry. I didn’t want to make you cry.” He steps toward me and I reach out for the kitten and Hunter.

“They’re good tears. Happy tears. You remembered.”

He remembered everything.

“You’re happy then?” He loops his arm around my middle and pulls me tight.

“So fucking happy.” I reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “So what’s this guy’s name?”

“Currently no name, just waiting for you to pick one.”

I snuggle the little kitten into my cheek. His soft fur rubbing on my face and his purrs. “How about Ash?” I ask the baby. He licks my nose with his little tongue. “Okay then, Ash it is.”

Sitting on the couch, I put the little kitten down to run and play. Hunter sits next to me, holding me close.

Merry Christmas to me.