When I finally went downstairs, there was a glass of Baileys waiting for me. I sat on the couch between Yvonne and Bethany, chatting for a while with Bethany about how she was studying nursing at college. I’d had to attend a few courses before I became Gran’s primary carer, so I could relate to a lot of the things she was learning about.

Dylan was mostly in the kitchen working on dinner. At one point he emerged, still wearing that ridiculously Christmassy apron. Our eyes met, and he walked towards me. He slid his fingers through mine and pulled me up from the couch.

“I need an extra pair of hands,” was all he said before he dragged me into the kitchen.

There was a cut of beef roasting in the oven, and gravy simmering in a pot on the stove.

“So, the perfumer has turned his hand to cooking,” I commented.

He gave me an indulgent smile as he came and gripped my shoulders. His hands were firm, their heat sinking into my skin and warming my insides. He set me in front of a pile of potatoes and handed me a knife. When he stood behind me, I felt his chest press into my shoulders. He lowered his mouth to my ear and instructed. “Peel these.”

He might as well have said, “Take off your clothes,” for the way his words simmered through me, making every hair on my body stand on end.

I nodded and quietly set to work, still thinking about what Yvonne said. I wondered and I hoped. Dylan moved about the kitchen with effortless flow. You’d swear he’d been cooking all his life. But I guess in a way he had been. Designing perfumes was exactly like creating a recipe. You needed to find just the right ingredients. Figure out the exact method of combining them to achieve the desired result.

“Seems like you’re not too bad a chef,” I said, halfway through my peeling.

Dylan stood by the stove, alternating between stirring the gravy and checking on the roast beef. I admired the way his shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing toned forearms.

“Have you forgotten the bruschetta I made you?”

“Right, yes, the best bruschetta in all of New York.”

He smirked. “Not quite, but it’s definitely up there.”

I gave a soft laugh. “And what are we having for dessert?”

“Ah, now that’s a surprise.”

I carried the peelings to discard in the bin, while Dylan grabbed the potatoes and washed them under the tap, then threw them in a pot of boiling water. “The key to great mash is to use butter and milk. I also like to toss in a small teaspoon of wholegrain mustard.”

“Interesting choice,” I murmured just as his hand slid gently along the back of my neck. He swept my hair over one shoulder and lowered his mouth to my nape. I gasped at the contact of his soft lips on my skin, gripping the edge of the countertop.

“I’ve been dying to do that since you arrived,” he whispered, then dragged his mouth across to my earlobe. I stifled the urge to moan, every part of me on a knife’s edge already.

“Erhmmm,” I murmured back, incoherent. It was so hard to concentrate on words with his lips caressing, teeth nipping.

His hand moved to circle my waist. I closed my eyes and savoured his heat. He rested his head on my shoulder and wrapped his arms around my middle. I turned my face into his and nuzzled his chin.

His mouth fell open and his breath hit my skin. It was way too hot in here and it wasn’t even from the oven. Dylan held me close and neither of us moved. We stayed like that for a long while, until the potatoes started to boil over. Dylan hurried to lower the heat, while I walked to the other side of the kitchen and stared out the window.

Dylan came and stood next to me, not speaking. The windowpane was frosted on the outside from the winter chill. Our shoulders brushed when he reached down and took my hand. And then, as if by some miracle, it started to snow.

We watched the falling white flecks for a minute before an exclamation of excitement rang out from the living room. Dylan smiled down at me.

“It’s snowing!” Conor announced when he burst into the kitchen. “Come on, you two. We’re all going outside.”

“Wait and see if it sticks first,” Dylan said.

“No way. I’m going out,” Conor argued before hurrying back into the living room.

I chuckled. “He really is a big kid this time of year.”

“The holiday season does something funny to his brain,” Dylan agreed.

In the end, the snow became so heavy that we all couldn’t resist going outside. I wrapped up well and what was supposed to be a pleasant wander around the neighbourhood turned into a full-on snowball fight. It was Yvonne, Bethany and me against Dylan and Conor. Girls against boys. The ‘grown-ups’ were wise enough to sit it out.

I wasn’t sure who won in the end, but I had snow stuck in places it had no business being stuck, courtesy of Dylan shoving snow down the back of my coat. I rewarded him by smashing some against his cheek and he gasped at the cold.

When we went inside, I savoured the warmth of the central heating and changed into some comfy leggings and a hoodie. I knew it wasn’t exactly dinner attire, but I decided to choose comfort over fashion.

As expected, Dylan’s food was delicious, and dessert turned out to be sherry trifle. I was pretty sure it came from a packet, since I couldn’t fathom how he would have time to prepare everything from scratch.

After dinner we all gathered in the living room to watch a movie. Conor delegated himself to decide what we watched, and I couldn’t help smiling when he announced his choice was When Harry Met Sally.

He glanced briefly at Yvonne, who appeared touched by the gesture, her cheeks flushed. I was pretty sure she hadn’t watched the movie in years. I guess she didn’t have to anymore. She was living the life she aspired to, but she didn’t have anyone to share it with.

Sure, she had me, but a niece wasn’t the same as a lover, someone you could share everything with.

Once the lights were dimmed, Dylan slid in next to me on the couch. It had been a long day and I was exhausted. I couldn’t help resting my head on his shoulder as I settled into the movie. At one point, he threw his arm around me and pulled me closer so that the side of my body was flush with his. I was relaxed and peaceful, and I could’ve fallen asleep right there if it weren’t for how his fingers stroked my hip.

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.”

There was affection in his laugh, then his voice turned husky. “Well, if you happen to find yourself wandering the hallways again tonight, just know my door is always open.”

I shivered and grabbed my coffee, then went to join the others at the table. The devilish look in Dylan’s eyes would be my undoing.

The next few hours passed in a lazy fashion. I helped Dylan prepare the food, same as yesterday. And just like yesterday he drove me to the height of distraction with his little flirtations and subtle touches.

Just before dinner, my phone pinged. I casually pulled it out to check and saw a message from Mam.

Merry Christmas, Evelyn. Xxx

She sent the same text each year, and each year I didn’t respond. It was petty and maybe a little selfish, I knew, but it wasn’t as selfish as abandoning your own daughter when she was just fourteen years old. For some reason though, this year I felt different. We were never going to be close, but maybe I didn’t need to punish her anymore. I was finding happiness in my life now, and perhaps sending Mam a simple response would help her find happiness in hers. I typed out a simple, yet meaningful reply.

Merry Christmas, Mam.

After we finished eating, we exchanged gifts. Yvonne had gotten me a red leather Guess handbag, which I just adored, and she loved her Gucci perfume set. I bought Conor a tie and Dylan a set of engraved cufflinks. I was nervous when he opened the box, hoping he liked them. It was just so hard to think of a gift. I mean, what do you buy the man who has everything?

His eyes crinkled at the edges when he saw them. We sat next to each other and I bit my lip. “Do you like them?”

He reached out and clasped my neck, surprising me when he pulled my mouth to his for quick, chaste kiss. “I love them. Thank you,” he whispered.

After that I sat back and watched as everybody opened their presents, filled with a sense of belonging. It was the first time in a long time that I’d felt at peace. Like my life was going somewhere good.

Quietly, while everyone else was distracted, Dylan took my hand and led me out into the study across the hall. He closed the door and went to grab something from a drawer by the desk.

He came back with a small wrapped box and held it out to me. I took it and sat on the leather armchair in the corner. Something about this gift felt important. Dylan’s eyes were full of anticipation as he watched me pull away the wrapping. Inside was a little black velvet box. I opened it up and found a pretty white gold necklace. The pendant was a circle of glass, and pressed inside the glass was a tiny dried jasmine flower.

“It beautiful,” I breathed, hands shaking as I tried to undo the clasp.

Dylan knelt before me and took it from my hands. Carefully, he unclasped the latch and brought it around my neck.

“I kept this flower from when were teenagers,” he said and my breath caught. I thought it was just an ordinary jasmine flower, chosen perhaps because they used to be my favourite, but it wasn’t. It was special.

“Seriously?” I asked, peering down in awe. The glass pendent rested in the centre of my chest, its cool surface grazing my skin.

“I took it from the ones I picked to make my perfume when we were at school, then I put it inside some crepe paper for safekeeping. I had the pendant made at a jewellery store here in New York.”

Tears sprung in my eyes. The gift was just so thoughtful, and I couldn’t believe he’d kept this one flower all this time. It obviously meant something to him. And now he was giving it to me.

“I don’t know what to say.”

I only realised I was crying when Dylan reached out to wipe a tear from my cheek. “You don’t have to say anything. Your reaction is all I need.”

I studied the pendant again, taking it in my fingers and turning it over. I hadn’t even noticed the engraving on the back. It read, For Evelyn, my one true love, my muse. Yours always, Dylan.

I inhaled sharply, unable to stop the onslaught of tears now. They ran freely down my face. Dylan made soothing noises.

“Don’t cry. I gave you this to make you happy,” he said, taking my face in his hands.

I blinked away some of the tears and looked at him. “I am happy. It’s just . . . you’re so perfect. I don’t deserve you.”

He gave a tender laugh. “First of all, that’s not true. And second of all, that’s too bad, because I’m irrevocably, hopelessly in love with you.”

Before I could even digest his statement, he caught my lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He kissed me like it had to last him a lifetime. He kissed me like I was oxygen and he was gasping for breath.

I shifted forward, opening my legs so he could settle between my thighs, then wrapped my arms around his neck. He groaned, lost to our kiss, and pushed me back into the chair. He pulled my legs around his hips and held himself above me.

I moaned when I felt him harden, his thick erection pressing between my legs. He lowered his mouth to my neck, kissing my sensitive skin before he grazed his lips over the tops of my breasts. I sighed in pleasure and a base needfulness came over me. It had been weeks since I’d had him like this, and I couldn’t get enough. I needed all of him, needed to touch him everywhere and have him touch me.

He hissed sharply when I reached for his belt buckle. “Careful, Ev.”

“I need you,” I breathed, nibbling on his lips as I stared into his eyes. “I love you, and I need you, Dylan. I feel like I’ve needed you forever.”

His gaze burned hot. I swore the dark blue of his irises flashed black for a second when I said those words. “You love me?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I answered. “I love you, Dylan O’Dea. I always have.”

There was no stopping him then. He lifted my dress over my head, pulled down my tights and did away with my bra. I was left in nothing but my knickers, and he was still fully dressed. I glanced briefly at the unlocked door, hoping nobody decided to come find us. If they did, well, they were in for quite a shock.

I reached again for his buckle and this time he let me. A moment later his pants were pushed down over his hips and his cock was free. I pulled my knickers off and guided him into me. We both gasped at the sensation of being skin to skin. When he moved his hips, I moaned and bit down on his shoulder to keep quiet.

He caught my mouth and slid his tongue along mine, at the same time as he thrust inside me deeply. His eyes were open while he kissed me, taking in my every reaction. I grew so, so wet and his masculine sounds enveloped the room. He pulled away and gently clasped his hand around my neck. It was a possessive move, and every part of me pulsated with pleasure.

He drove us to dizzying heights, and when he saw on I was on the edge, he reached down between our bodies and brought me to orgasm with his fingers. I came while he was still inside me. He immediately bent and kissed my breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth and then the other. He lapped at me until I was ready to come all over again.

A deep, raspy groan escaped him, and I knew he was almost there. I made sure I was looking deep into his eyes when he came with a shuddering expletive. He pulled out and pressed his lips to my mouth, my jaw and neck. He peppered my entire body with kisses until there wasn’t an inch left untouched.

Dylan folded me in his arms, draped his shirt over our naked bodies and held me until we both fell asleep. I woke a little while later, warm from his arms around me but still chilly in the cold study. Dylan stirred, palming my breast and dipping his mouth to nibble on my ear.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

I batted his hand away. “We can’t. Everybody’s probably wondering where we’ve been.”

“Let them wonder. Your mine now.”

I let those words sink in. You’re mine now.

It was true. I was his, and he was mine. When he started kissing me again, I knew it was time to get dressed, otherwise we were in danger of spending the rest of the evening in here, and probably the night, too. Only a small portion of my brain insisted that wasn’t a good idea.

I swiped his hand away when he playfully pinched my hip, while I tried to put my clothes back on. I finally managed to get dressed and took a peek at myself in the small mirror on the wall, making sure I didn’t look too dishevelled.

Dylan took my hand in his and I tried to ignore those pesky butterflies he always managed to solicit. I’d be ninety and still feeling belly flutters when he looked at me.

He led me back out into the living room, where Yvonne and Conor sat on the couch watching TV. They sat just a little distance apart and it made me wonder if maybe they’d grown closer over the last day and a half. There was something between them now, something new, but I couldn’t quiet put my finger on it.

Tommy was napping on the armchair, while Bridget and Bethany played a game of Scrabble. I thought Conor’s parents must’ve gone downstairs for a rest.

Conor glanced from me to Dylan and then to our clasped hands. He let out a loud, “Well, it’s about time.” And we both laughed at his enthusiasm. Yvonne smiled in that fond way she did, coming to give me a small hug.

“I’m so happy for you,” she whispered in my ear, and it meant a lot to hear her say that. She was the only family I had left worth caring about.

We spent the rest of the evening playing board games, drinking wine and eating mince pies. When it was time for bed, I didn’t give a single protest as Dylan led me to his room, laid me down, and made love to me until my body ached in the most wonderful way.

Best. Christmas. Ever.