How the Light Gets In (Cracks Duet #2)(51)

The baggy hoodie I wore allowed him to slip his hand underneath and caress my skin. I had a lump in my throat and my belly was tight with need he turned me on so much. When the film ended, and everyone started making their way to their bedrooms, all I wanted to do was take Dylan’s hand and lead him upstairs.

But of course, I didn’t. Maybe if it was just the two of us, I’d have taken the plunge, but definitely not with a house full of people to witness my slutty behaviour. Okay, so it was hardly slutty, but still. I was too embarrassed to do something so forward. Besides, what if I did and then Dylan was all, Ev, this isn’t the time . . .

I’d be mortified.

In our room, Yvonne and I changed into our PJs and climbed into bed. I wondered what she thought about Conor’s movie choice, but decided not to pry. There was no sense meddling when I was sure they’d find their way to one another eventually.

At least, I hoped.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Dylan, couldn’t get the memory of his mouth on my neck out of my head. I tried everything, from counting sheep to thinking of the mundane and reassuringly attractive faces of The Vampire Diaries cast. Usually, that method helped me nod off, because if everyone in your universe, even the supposedly plain people, was that good-looking, the world would be a pretty worry-free place.

But no, even my failsafe wasn’t working tonight.

Driven by pure frustration, I got out of bed and crept to my door. I took a deep breath, twisted the handle and stepped outside, only to find Tommy coming up the stairs. He was wearing a housecoat and held a cup of herbal tea.

Man, bumping into the parent of the person whose bedroom you were trying to sneak into for sexy times was the worst.

The worst.

Tommy smiled and gestured to the tea. “Bridget couldn’t sleep. It’s the jet lag. I thought some camomile might help.”

“Oh, good idea. It took me a little while to get used to the time difference when I first moved over as well,” I said and awkwardly folded my arms.

Before Tommy could say anything else, Dylan’s bedroom door opened. He wore boxer shorts and a grey T-shirt. I wondered if we’d woken him up, or if he’d been having just as much of a hard time sleeping as me. I was momentarily distracted by his scruffy bed head and bare, muscular legs when our eyes met. God, he was sexy, especially when he took in the scene and came to the most obvious conclusion. The tiniest, almost imperceptible smirk graced his lips.

Kill me. Kill me now.

He looked from me to his dad.

“Everything okay?”

“I was just taking some tea to Bridget,” Tommy replied.

“And I needed to use the bathroom,” I added then quickly hurried across the hall. I could hear Dylan and his dad talking while I turned on the tap and pretended to pee. They were still out there when I emerged, discussing a plan to drive to the Catskills on Wednesday for some sightseeing.

I nodded to both of them, not meeting Dylan’s gaze, then shuffled back into my room.

Well, that had been a disaster.

The embarrassment seemed to kill any previous sexual desire, because I fell asleep soon after. The next morning, I didn’t wake until ten. I figured everyone else was awake because Yvonne’s bed was empty, and I could hear voices downstairs. I pulled my dark blue dress and glittery holiday tights out of my bag, then went to take a shower. I knew we’d just be hanging out in the house all day, but I still wanted to make an effort.

When I went downstairs, Yvonne, Dylan and Conor were in the kitchen drinking coffee. Dylan’s attention fell on me, a smile in his eyes when he saw my outfit. He came forward and dipped to press a kiss on my cheek. “Merry Christmas, Ev. You look beautiful,” he murmured then returned to his place by the stove.

“Are you making pancakes?”

“Yep. You want some?”

“Sure. But just one. I want to save space for dinner.”

“Ev’s and my Christmas tradition is to eat nothing at all until dinner time, then we gorge,” Yvonne said, lifting her coffee mug for a sip.

“I like your style.” Conor chuckled.

“Where’s everyone else?” I asked.

“Gone out for a walk,” Conor answered. “Dad likes how quiet it is on Christmas morning, the streets are always empty.”

“Well, I favour not leaving the house until the twenty-sixth. You’re all lucky I made the effort to get dressed,” I joked and went to grab some coffee. Dylan had one of those fancy machines, and I had trouble figuring out how to use it. Yvonne and Conor chatted when he came up behind me and took the capsule from my hands.

“Like this,” he said, voice low. He slotted the capsule in and pushed down the lever. I had no clue why that was sexy. It just was.

“Thanks.”

“So,” he continued, still hushed. “What was all that about last night?”

My pulse quickened. “Last night?”

“Out in the hallway with Dad. You looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights.” There was a hint of amusement in his tone.

“I needed to use the bathroom, and I wasn’t wearing a bra. Kind of embarrassing that I bumped into your dad on the way there.”

“Right. Because I could’ve sworn you were trying to sneak into my room.”

Oh, he just loved this. I shook my head. “Nope. Just a middle-of-the-night call of nature I’m afraid.”