No Kissing Allowed (No Kissing Allowed #1)(51)

“How many days will we be there?”

I swallowed, forcing my voice to remain even, devoid of the hope swirling through my belly. “One week.”

“One week with you? I won’t be able to walk away.”

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his. “I hate when you say things like that.”

And then taking comfort in our small step, I slumped down beside him, snuggling into the crook of his neck, and fell fast asleep.





Chapter Twenty-Six


The winter air proved colder for a Christmas in Birmingham than expected, and I was thankful as Aidan and I stepped outside at the airport that I’d packed lots of warm clothes. Instantly, the familiar smells of home came wafting back to me. Smells of pine trees and clean, crisp air. I wondered if Aidan felt the change, too. We were just here, yet going back to the crowded city made these things all the more noticeable.

The stress of our return to New York was followed by an almost animallike desire to be together. It was like we sensed our relationship rising to that pivotal point where a decision had to be made—move forward or say good-bye. And neither of us was ready to go.

I spotted Eric’s Tahoe in the pickup lane a few cars back and motioned to Aidan. “There they are.”

Eric stepped out as we approached to help with our bags. I hugged him, and then he shook Aidan’s hand. “Nice to have you back.”

“Nice to be back.”

We slipped into the Tahoe, and I started to ask where Mom was just as Eric launched into all things football. They talked football for the rest of the drive, and by the time we reached our house, Aidan was grinning and Eric was talking animatedly with his hands. I settled into my seat as I watched them, thinking I could get used to this.

Mom met us on the front steps, and Aidan reached for her hand, but she swept him into a tight hug. “Merry Christmas!”

Aidan looked taken aback, but then he relaxed into the hug and swallowed hard. “Merry Christmas, Lorelei.”

She turned her attention on me, hugging me close. “I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few weeks.”

“Too many weeks. Well, come on in. I have dinner on the stove and hot cider made for after.”

My mouth dropped as we stepped inside. Mom had always been an amazing decorator, but Christmas brought out something deeper in her style. The house smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg. The foyer table displayed one of four of her Christmas villages, the lights and sounds twinkling and dinging as we passed. The staircase had been dusted with its own Christmas decor—the banisters were draped with garland and red berries and lights. The long running rug that led from the front door to the great room had been replaced with one with a motif of Santa giving out presents to kids. Neil Diamond’s “Happy Christmas (War is Over)” played in the background, joined in by the occasional crackle of the fire in the great room. I shook my head as I faced Mom. “You outdid yourself this year. It’s amazing.”

She shrugged me off, never one to properly accept a compliment, but the smile on her face proved her pleasure at my reaction. “Well, the family’ll be here on Christmas Eve and then again Christmas Day for lunch, and you know they come expecting.”

I turned back to Aidan, prepared to point him to the dining room table, when the look on his face stopped me short. He focused on every carefully decorated detail. The nutcrackers on the mantel. The snowman afghan on the back of the couch. And then his eyes landed on the massive Christmas tree, no less than twelve feet tall, in the far corner of the great room. I thought of all the things he missed growing up and gripped his hand, showing I was there if he needed me. But then he smiled. Maybe instead of making him sad, this was showing him what a real family looked like—what we could look like someday.

“Let’s eat.”

After family updates and lots of laughter, we finished dinner and enjoyed cider in front of the fire, before Mom and Eric said they were going to bed.

“Stay up as long as you like. You won’t disturb us,” Mom said as she closed the door behind her.

Aidan and I went on upstairs, and as soon as we heard their door close downstairs, he took a step toward me and pressed his lips to mine. “I’ve been waiting to do that all night,” he said.

“Oh really? What else have you been waiting to do?”

“This,” he said, kissing my neck. “And this.” His hands ran down my back, and he pulled me close. “I like your family. A lot.”

I nodded against his shoulder, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. “Me, too.”

Aidan looked at me. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head. “I’m just very happy.”

“Me, too.”

We held each other for a long moment before Aidan pulled back, his eyes on the adjoining door. “Meet back in here in a few?”

“Dirty.”

“I hope so.”

With a laugh, I went for the main door, a mischievous smile on my face. “I’m going to get ready for bed. Good night.”

Closing the door, I felt like a sixteen-year-old again, desperate to keep my parents from hearing me sneak out of the house to meet a boy. Only this time the boy wasn’t waiting at some party for me. He was next door, and there was nothing boyish about him. Aidan was all man, full of want and desire. Heat coursed through me at the thought. I ached to have him near me, touching me, kissing me.