No Kissing Allowed (No Kissing Allowed #1)(28)

I nodded. “Can we walk together?”

His gaze dropped to my lips as I spoke, and the warmth in my belly lit on fire, swarming through me, every fiber in me itching to take that tiny step between us, to press my lips to his.

He chuckled lightly and my gaze snapped up. “What?”

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

We made our way toward my apartment, walking close but not touching. “Thanks for the save back at the club.” My fingers ached to reach out to him, to hold hands as we walked. No feelings, I reminded myself, but my heart refused to slow down.

We stepped inside my building, and Aidan veered toward the stairs without my having to say a word.

“No problem. He didn’t seem like your type anyway.”

I smiled. “Oh, yeah? And what’s my type?”

“Taller. Blond-ish. Willing to avoid elevators for you.”

My smile widened. “That’s a very important trait.”

He held the door to the second floor open and then followed me down the hall to my apartment. I unlocked the door and flicked on the lights before tossing my keys in the key basket and glancing around. Lauren and I kept the place pretty clean, but she’d recently taken up crocheting and often had yarn all over the tables. Thankfully, there was none in sight.

“So, hot chocolate, huh?” he asked, as he cocked a hip against the kitchen counter.

I laughed. “I have wine, too, if you prefer.”

He moved over to the space beside me and crossed his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge against the thin fabric of his button-down. “Hot chocolate is good.”

Setting the milk steamer on the stove top, I reached for the rest of the ingredients, conscious of his eyes on me as I moved. It was intimidating, but also unbelievably hot to know that he was watching me.

“Nutella?”

“Trust me.”

“I trust you more than I should. More than most people I know.”

My gaze lifted, and I realized I felt the same way. I shouldn’t trust Aidan—I barely knew him—yet our conversations were so effortless that I found myself spilling parts of my life that very few people knew. “We don’t really know each other, do we?”

“I know you, Cameron. I see you. You’re smart and driven, but your drive isn’t like other people’s drive. Titles motivate people. Money. But you? You’re driven by your independence. Your ability to say you did it all by yourself. Do you have any idea how rare that is for someone your age? Hell, for any age.”

“You talk like you’ve been working your whole life.”

“It feels like I’ve been working my whole life. I used to go to the office with my dad when I was a kid, listen as he ordered people around like they were nothing.” He paused, losing focus as he stared across the kitchen. “Then he left my mom and me, and we became nothing. At least to him.”

I glanced up as I stirred the ingredients into the already steaming milk. “You weren’t nothing.”

“No, but we had nothing. No money. Moving from apartment to apartment because she couldn’t afford rent and would eventually get kicked out, all while he vacationed at his house in the Hamptons, refusing to pay child support. I know what it’s like to have no food, no home, and to have to work every hour to prove myself, only to see flashy Harvard grads walk in and expect the world.” He stopped, and I glanced up again from my chocolaty creation.

Mom had taught me how to make the recipe years ago, and it was still my favorite. My heart tugged at the memory of the first time we made it together, her smiling, as beautiful as ever, me standing on a stool so I could see. My heart ached again. It’d been months since I’d been home. Too long. Listening to Aidan talk about his horrible upbringing made me appreciate the life and love my parents had given me all the more.

“What?” I asked after he didn’t continue.

“Nothing. I’ve just never admitted that to anyone before.”

I poured our hot chocolate into mugs and turned around to pull the whipped cream from the fridge. It was Reddi-wip, nothing special, but it would serve its purpose. I shook the can and began spiraling it onto the steaming drink when I felt Aidan step up behind me, his head over my shoulder, his strong chest against my back. He placed his hands on my hips, his fingers splaying around to my stomach as he leaned down to press a single kiss to my neck.

I drew a breath. “I like when you do that.”

He kissed my neck again. “This?”

“No.” I turned around to face him. “I like when you let down your guard around me. When you tell me about your life, and then you draw close, like…” I shook my head, embarrassed to say what I was thinking. I could be wrong.

He lifted my chin. “Like what?”

I swallowed hard as my eyes met his. This close, I could see the flecks of gold in the brown, how they seemed to move every time he blinked. “Like you feel better when you’re near me.”

He released a breath. “I feel alive when I’m near you.” And then his lips were on mine, gentle this time, careful, full of emotions we weren’t ready to explore. Emotions we weren’t supposed to have. A tingly sensation moved through me, clouding my mind, and I rose onto my toes, not wanting the kiss to end. Not wanting this—whatever we were—to end. The feeling overwhelmed me.