Page 68 of Smokin' Hot (Smoke)


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I quickly went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and hair. My fingers touched a small bruise at the base of my neck, where Saxon had bitten me during a wild round of sex on the kitchen counter while we were making fudge last night. We had stayed up past midnight, making different sweets while also having sex twice. Smiling at the memory, I was ready to see him.

Slowly, I opened the door, excited about my first Christmas morning with Saxon. The tree had colored lights that were twinkling, the fireplace was lit, and three stockings were hanging on it, where they hadn’t been before. They seemed full, as if they’d all been stuffed. Finally, my eyes fell on Saxon, sitting in one of the leather chairs, watching me with a cup of coffee in his hand.

His lips curled into a smile. “Merry Christmas.”

I felt giddy. “Merry Christmas.”

“You want some hot cocoa, or do you want to start with gifts?”

I licked my bottom lip. “Um … gifts,” I admitted.

He grinned, setting his cup down. “I kinda figured you’d say that.”

He curled his finger at me, and I walked over to him. He reached up and pulled me down into his lap.

“I need a kiss first.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him. His hands ran up my back and then into my hair as he gave my bottom lip attention. It reminded me of last night, when he’d rubbed icing on my lips, then licked it off.

Pulling back, he groaned. “If I don’t stop, we won’t get to the gifts.”

Normally, I would want to keep going, but I was too excited about watching him open what I had gotten him.

“Okay,” I agreed and scrambled off his lap.

He laughed at me, then stood up. “I need to give you your gifts in order,” he told me.

“There’s an order?” I asked, looking at the tree and realizing there were more gifts there than there had been last night.

“There is,” he confirmed.

He reached for a medium-sized box with red wrapping paper that had 2003 in white on it. I looked from him to the box.

Why is the year I was born on the wrapping paper? I wondered.

“Why does it have 2003 on it?”

He sat down on the ottoman in front of me. “Because that was the year you were born.”

I nodded. “Yes, I know that, but—”

“Just open it,” he replied, smiling.

I unwrapped it and then opened the lid to a white box. Reaching in, I pulled out a brown bear, wearing a yellow-and-red striped scarf and red deer antlers on its head. He was sitting down, and on one foot, it said Macy’s, and on the other, it said 2003.

I looked at him as tears stung my eyes. “I can’t believe you found this.”

He shrugged with a grin on his face, holding out another present. This one was red-and-green striped with 2004 in white on the paper.

“Why 2004?” I asked, wondering what was special about that year.

“I can’t go back in time and fix the past, but I can make up for every year you didn’t wake up to Christmas gifts under the tree.”

My eyes went wide, and I looked back at the tree. “You got me a gift for every year of my life?” I asked in disbelief.

“One for every year but this one. You got several for this year.”

“Saxon, that is way too—”

“Don’t. Just open your gifts. Let me enjoy this.”

I stared at him in amazement. He was serious. How was he real, and how was I the one lucky enough to be here with him?

“Thank you,” I said finally, although once again, those words were so inadequate.

“You’re welcome, Haisley, but this was also for selfish reasons.”

I frowned. “How is putting this much thought and money into someone else’s Christmas selfish?”

He smirked. “I’m trying to make sure you never leave me. And I love making you smile.”

“You could have saved a lot of money then because you’ll have to throw me out to get rid of me. All of this was not required … although it sets a bar that can never be reached.”

He picked up his cup and took a drink, then winked at me. “Good. Now, open it up. We only have two hours before we have to go to my parents’.”

I continued opening the gifts as he gave them to me. They were specific to the year, and several of the items were things I realized he’d asked me about casually.

Like when we had watched A Christmas Story, he’d asked if there was a toy I wanted as a kid and never got. I’d listed three easily—My Little Pony, a Bratz doll, and Polly Pocket. Those were the 2006, 2007, and 2008 gifts he gave me.

I laughed and teared up as I unwrapped things, like a Hannah Montana CD and wig. I’d admitted to being a fan back when I was a kid and wanted to bleach my hair to look like her. Every time I thought he couldn’t outdo his last gift, he managed to. I laughed until my side hurt at the One Direction poster. The Justin Bieber Believe tour T-shirt looked new. I was grinning so much that my face hurt.

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