Aurelia Rowl - Christmas Is Cancelled

‘I’m sorry, I can’t,’ Dean murmured.

‘What?’ Tilly opened her eyes. So much turmoil swirled in Dean’s gaze, her own pulse spiked. ‘Why not?’ she whispered, raising her hand to cup his cheek.

Dean screwed his eyes tight shut and pulled back from her but then contradicted himself by leaning into her touch. His stubble scratched her palm like fine sandpaper. The most vulnerable she’d ever seen him, Tilly sensed his control wavering. Quite frankly, she’d be a damn fool to turn down the best opportunity she could ever hope to get. Her pulse kicked again and she made her move, tentatively brushing her lips against Dean’s.

Years of longing came to fruition and left her light-headed but it paled in comparison to the intense shudder that ripped through Dean. She did it again, lingering this time. His lips were soft and warm, unyielding beneath hers yet he hadn’t pushed her away. Emboldened, Tilly traced her tongue over his lips, desperate to taste him.

Dean’s spine tingling groan could have been hot-wired directly to her core. Suddenly, he kissed her back, using his lips and tongue to expertly tease hers, over and over again, until her bones melted. A shrill ringing erupted from her handbag and they both jumped. ‘Ignore it,’ he mumbled against her lips, parting them. His tongue traced the fullness of her bottom lip and sought permission to enter.

Tilly could only moan, communicating her agreement by granting access.

Appeased, Dean dipped the tip of his tongue inside her mouth. She’d waited all her life to be kissed like this but, by God, it had been worth the wait. Except now she wanted more. Careful not to break the kiss, she adjusted her position until she sat astride his lap with her legs straddling his hips. She rocked back and forth against him, able to tell just how much of an effect she had on him through her lightweight trousers.

A growl exploded from Dean’s chest and he raised his hand, fisting it in her hair. He slipped his other hand beneath her shirt, spanning her lower back and scorching her bare skin. Dean seized control of the tempo and moved her rhythmically against him.

Tilly panted, unbelievably close to coming, but then her mobile rang again. She broke off the kiss and dropped her head against his shoulder. ‘God damn it!’

‘Do you have to take it?’ he asked, his breathing as ragged as her own, and their chests rising and falling sharply.

‘I better had.’ She lifted her head up to meet Dean’s gaze. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his flushed cheeks and his eyes, black and full of desire. His ruffled hair tempted her to mess it up even more by running her fingers through the silky strands all over again, but the ringing phone refused to go away. ‘It’s Phil. He’ll only keep on trying until I answer. We’d never get any peace.’

Dean frowned and muttered, ‘I should have known.’ He dropped his hands limply to his sides, releasing her.

‘Just give me two minutes to get rid of him, okay?’ She climbed off his lap. ‘He’s probably checking up on me, making sure I haven’t done anything stupid.’

‘Are you sure you haven’t?’ The phone fell silent and Dean’s words hung in the air, amplified by the sudden absence of any other sound. Something in his tone sent a chill right through her.

Tilly spun around, hoping to see a smile playing on his lips to let her know it was a joke but his expression was deadly serious. ‘Wh–’

Right on cue her mobile rang again.

Dean’s fists clenched. ‘Hadn’t you better get that?’ His voice came out cold and dismissive.

‘Yes, I had.’ She hit the green button and lifted the phone to her ear. ‘What’s the big emergency, Phil?’ she snapped, her voice coming out harsher than she intended.

Two minutes dragged into five and still she couldn’t get rid of her brother to find out what the hell had got into Dean. Sat perfectly still on the sofa, he didn’t so much as glance at her. Conflicted and closed off, he’d shut her out. He appeared to be fighting some internal battle of his own that she wasn’t privy to, but she had a pretty good idea it had something to do with Phil.

As if she’d called Dean’s name, he lifted his head to study her, a question in the arch of his eyebrows. She met his cloaked gaze and searched his eyes but she might as well have been looking at a mannequin. Dean shook his head slowly and climbed off the sofa far more elegantly than she could ever dream of achieving, then started to walk around her.

Aware that if she didn’t do something now, she’d lose him, Tilly lunged and grabbed hold of Dean’s hand. She pulled him to a stop then rose onto her tiptoes to plant a silent kiss on his lips. Caught by surprise, Dean’s smile reached all the way to his eyes. Disaster averted, she put the phone back to her ear. ‘Sorry, Phil, can you say that again?’

Dean chuckled and wandered into the kitchen. The smell of cooking soon reached her nose, prompting her tummy to let out an almighty roar. Phil heard it too, at the other end of the line, giving her the perfect excuse to finally get him off the phone.

Tilly hit the off button and stowed the phone in her bag. She entered the kitchen to find Dean stood at the cooker with his back to her. Oblivious to her arrival, he reached out to pick up chopped peppers and onions in one large handful then tossed them into a frying pan. ‘I’ve turned it off now,’ she said, raising her voice to be heard over the loud sizzle.

‘Oh, okay.’ Dean picked up a wooden spoon and stirred his creation, releasing an incredible aroma to tease her taste buds.

‘Something smells good.’

‘ Penne della casa Deano . I hope you’re hungry?’ He finally turned around to face her, his face slightly flushed from the heat of the stove.

She opened her mouth to answer but her belly let out another loud roar beating her to it.

Dean smiled and nodded towards the table, now fully laid. ‘Grab a seat, it won’t be long.’ He’d certainly kept himself busy while she’d been stuck on the phone to Phil; there was even a bowl of freshly cut crusty baguette in the centre.

Phil.

Could he really be a factor in Dean’s switching moods?

Tilly crossed the room then sank onto a chair. A barrage of questions ambushed her head, matched by a flood of mixed emotions in her heart. She snatched up a chunk of bread, picking out crumbs one at a time to give her hands something to do.

***

Dean dumped the pasta into two bowls, not caring about the splatters on the counters for once.

Phil had done it again. A further demonstration of his uncanny ability of knowing when something was about to happen with Tilly. Dean had no doubt whatsoever about what would have happened without big brother’s interruption. The only question was whether they’d have made it to the bedroom or not – probably the latter – but now he’d never know.

Annoyed at himself as much as Phil, Dean grabbed a bowl in each hand then turned towards the table. Tilly was sat bolt upright, staring into space again, with her brows knitted together and her mouth tight. Her fingers pecked at a lump of baguette like a bird, turning it into a hollow tube. His feet turned to lead and his step faltered.

‘Penny for them?’ he asked.

Tilly yelped, startled from her reverie. She tilted her head up to look at him and the despondent look in her eyes vanished, replaced by a bright spark. Her lips parted and she dazzled him with a smile. Whatever troubled her, it seemed unlikely that he could be the source.

‘Oh, it’s nothing much,’ she said. ‘I was just thinking about Phil.’

‘Right.’ Dean resisted the need to squirm for fear of slopping pasta in her lap and plonked the bowls roughly onto the table.