Page 105 of A Song for You

Fifty-Three

Cat

You Are the Best Thing by Ray LaMontagne

“So,” I deadpan as we disembark after saying goodbye to Nadia, “threesomes are kind of awkward.”

Jay lets out a loud laugh, the sound carried away by the wind. “Fuck, you really are my favorite person.”

I shrug, but my smile is big. “Didn’t you find it a tad bit uncomfortable getting dressed right alongside her and then asking her to get you a drink? Like, the girl was staring at your ass while you came down my throat. Awkward,” I sing teasingly.

He pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. “It’s fucking cold. You better have brought a heavy jacket if we’re going to make it to the tree tonight.”

I shake my head and grin at the way he changes topics like what just happened was completely normal. Maybe it is to him. But hell, I can’t blame him for what happened on the plane. That was all me. I wanted it. Probably too much.

“We need to go to the hotel first,” I say, squeezing his hand.

Jay shoots me a cocky grin. “Still horny?”

Is that really a question? I’m dying to get him alone. I want him to fuck me for hours. And besides, I brought a little surprise. “Yes.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “My little virgin no more.”

“Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “I think we flew right past that milestone, Mr. Hanson.”

“Eh, that ass still remains virginal.” He slips a hand down my back and squeezes one of my cheeks.

I tense beside him. “Yeah, not happening. That area is for one thing only.”

Jay’s laughter lights me up inside. “Whatever you say, Kitten. If I had to bet, you’ll be begging for me to fuck that tiny hole by the end of the weekend.”

When we get to the hotel, Jay informs me we have dinner reservations across from Rockefeller Center, and he says we can’t be late, so the sex has to wait. We’re exchanging Christmas presents tonight since we won’t be together for the holiday. Even the thought of celebrating without him makes my heart ache. But I force myself to ignore the pending goodbye and focus on our time together.

Strolling down the sidewalks of New York, we hold hands and enjoy the hustle and bustle of the city. It’s so different from Boston. Louder, brighter, and the energy is heightened. Shots of Christmas spirit have been passed around the population, the holiday dripping down each building and seeping into the streets.

“One day I would love to live here,” I admit.

Jay brushes a kiss to my hair. “We’ll have an apartment here, Boston, and Paris. Anywhere else, Kitten?”

I smile up at him. “Planning our future already?”

Jay’s smile fades, and his eyes turn serious, the glacier color going a steely blue. There’s not a hint of teasing in his voice when he replies, “It’s all I think about.”

“Jay,” I whisper, searching his face and seeing nothing but sincerity.

He stops our movement and, without warning, cups my upper arms and spins me so I’m facing away from him, though his hands still hold me tight. His strong body presses against my back, and his warm breath tickles my ear. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he says softly, and there in front of me is the tree.

I drop my head back, resting it against his chest where his heart beats erratically. “I want everything you want. You want a penthouse in the city? Done.” He runs his hands up and down my arms. “You want to live across the street from your brothers? I’ll deal. You want a house? Tell me how big. Whatever you want, it’s yours,” he promises. He lifts my hair and presses a kiss to my neck. “Hold your hair for me, Kitten.”

I follow his instruction, and he slides a necklace around my throat, pressing another kiss against my skin before connecting the clasp. “What is this?” I say, tucking my chin to get a look as he lifts up the pendent and leans over my shoulder.

“Our first kiss,” he replies, as if that explains it completely.

The yellow stone sparkles in the lights of the tree. It’s circular and has to be at least four carats. “Jay, this is⁠—”

“A yellow diamond. The minute I saw it, I thought of you. Our first kiss. The song that was playing. If you were a color, you’d be yellow. You’re my fall. My pumpkin spice. I can’t write music, Kitten, but if I could, every song I’d write would be for you.”

I spin around and loop my arms around his neck, gazing into his beautiful glacier eyes. “I love you.”