No Kissing Allowed (No Kissing Allowed #1)(31)
He smiled. “It rarely comes out to play.”
The sun had started to set, giving the sky an orange and red glow, and cueing me in to the time—dinner, then a movie, then…
Aidan walked up behind me and ran his hands down the curve of my waist. “I thought we could order in.”
“Sounds perfect.” I spun in his arms and rose onto my toes to kiss him again, but he pulled away.
“If you continue to kiss me like that, I won’t be able to stop myself, and I know you’re hungry.”
“I can wait to eat.”
His eyes darkened as he peered down at me, his hands gripping my waist, and that look was enough to make me forget eating for a week to stay in bed, doing other things with my mouth, but then my stomach growled, and Aidan’s gaze fell to the traitor. “Chinese?”
Aidan went to order the food, while I took the opportunity to look around his apartment. There was only one photo to be seen, in a small five-by-seven wooden frame, the photo inside of a woman, maybe fifty. She was beautiful, her eyes squinted in silent laughter. Instantly, I knew the woman must be his mother. We’d barely talked about her, and I wasn’t sure he wanted to. Sometimes talking made it easier to miss someone, but I knew firsthand that talking could also make it worse. Plus, we were already walking a dangerous line. We shared bits of ourselves with the other, yet we claimed this was casual. Nothing about us felt casual.
For the first time all day, the weight of this decision pressed on my chest, fear working its way up my spine. What was I doing here? Four years of focusing on school, two grueling summer internships, all in the name of my career, and here I was jeopardizing it all. The thought released a fresh wave of panic, and I eyed the door. I could stop this right now, say I was sorry, I changed my mind.
But the problem was I hadn’t changed my mind.
The war between what I wanted to do and what I should do waged on in my mind and heart as I continued on around the room, stopping at a large wooden shelf beside his wide-screen. I expected to find it filled with books, but instead records sat in perfectly organized rows. I slid out the first one, then the second, a smile forming on my face. They were all older bands, many of them classic rock. My dad would have loved the collection and loved Aidan for having it.
“I see you’ve found my other addiction.”
I ran a hand across the shelf, my eyes shifting to him. “Other?”
“I thought the first was obvious.”
I swallowed hard, every inch of my body acutely aware of how close he stood to me. “I didn’t see a record player. Do you listen to them or just collect them?”
Disappearing through a door on the other side of the room, he returned with a record player that appeared to be as old as the records. He set it on the metal coffee table, walked over, and thumbed through the records, then pulled one out and placed it on the player, gently dropping the needle onto the record. I waited, eager to hear what he’d chosen, when the guitar chords for “Sweet Home Alabama” filled the room. I grinned at the nod to my home state and reached for his hand. “Dance with me.”
He took my hand and pulled me close, and I expected him to ease us into slow dancing, when he quickly pushed me back out, then rolled me in, so my back was to his chest, our bodies moving in time with the music. My mind drifted back to old line dances back home at the Harvest Festival, haystacks surrounding the dance floor, and the thump of feet keeping time to live music.
Aidan spiraled me back out, then twisted me around again, moving again and again, until we were both laughing, getting more and more into the dance. Suddenly, he tugged me flush against him, his hands sliding down my waist to my legs as we danced, the closeness driving me insane. He gripped my hips and flipped me around, our chests heaving, every thought in my mind on how many pieces of clothing separated us and how long it would take to remove them all. I had just decided to start with his shirt, desperate to see his toned chest again, when a knock sounded from the front door.
“Dammit,” I said under my breath, before I could stop myself, and Aidan chuckled.
“I’m learning a lot about you tonight,” he said as he went for the door.
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
He opened the door and took our takeout, then shut it back with a smile on his face. “Are you sure you want to know?”
I went into his kitchen and opened the fridge. “Water or beer?”
His smile widened. “Like that.”
“Like what?”
“You’re in my refrigerator.”
“Am I missing something here?” I eyed the open door, scanning its contents briefly. It was such a guy’s fridge, all chaotic and disorganized. I longed to arrange it properly. Line up all the condiments, sort the fruits from the vegetables. The bottled water in a row, then wine, then beer.
Aidan set out the takeout containers on his coffee table. “You’ve been in my apartment for less than an hour and you’re already helping yourself to my kitchen. It’s just…different.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Different good or different bad?”
“I like it. And I’ll have a beer.”
I grabbed the beers and sat down beside him on the couch. “So, I’m listening,” I said, reaching for one of the containers without asking which was mine. I settled into his couch and crossed my legs up under me.