Vincent hops off the bed, holding out a hand. I take it, leaping down beside him and we share a glance, a silent agreement.
I turn to his family, grinning. “Let’s dance!”
Before they can protest, I seize their hands. “Come on, we have an anniversary to celebrate!”
Vincent restarts the song while I tug them toward the middle of the room. Evelyn sighs, but lets me drag her in and Daniel follows with a shake of his head.
Chris stays planted at the doorway, chuckling. “No, no, no. Nova, you know I can’t dance.”
I clutch his arm, pleading. “Please? I promise I’ll never try to train your garden bugs again, I’ll never read Grimm’s fairy tales to Daisy while you’re watching TV, I’ll never make you watchTwilighwith me again, and I’ll never—”
He ruffles my hair, interrupting with a smile so much like Vincent’s it knocks the breath out of me. They may not share the same blood, but they share a bond that makes them look alike.
Chris takes my hands, pulling me gently toward the others. “Come on. Show me the choreography.”
Vincent and I exchange another amused look before showing them the steps. Daniel sighs, already warning, “Just once, because then we have to set up the house. Nana and Papa will be here in three hours.” He glances at me. “Nova, you’re staying for the party, right? I’m making strawberry cheesecake for dessert.”
“Yes!” I blurt immediately, grinning.
Vincent’s eyes linger on me, soft, warm. That look alone sets my heart on fire. He spins me around just as Daniel and Chris mirror the move with Evelyn. Then Vincent lifts me onto his shoulders, striding around the room.
“Buckle up, Supernova—you’re about to fly through the sky!”
“Help!” I squeal, clinging to him in laughter.
“I won’t let you fall, Marshall,” he shoots back, steadying me with his hands tight around my thighs.
His family watches, their expressions a mix of confusion and quiet warmth. For the first time in forever, I feel like I’m truly part of a family.
“Well,” Evelyn murmurs to Chris and Daniel, “I’d say things are going well between them.”
-*?? . ??? ? ?.-*??
“Hm? Are you sure? What about your knees? Won’t they hurt?” I murmur as Vincent clears his desk—sheet music, books, and the crumbs from last night’s snack all swept aside—before lifting me onto it. The grin on his face makes my legs shake and takes my breath away.
“I don’t mind getting on my knees for you, Marshall,” he murmurs, voice low, rough with mischief. “Especially if it’s between your legs.”
Heat shoots through me, but I manage a small smirk. “I knew it was a bad idea to read thatSeventeenarticle together.”
He laughs, then lowers himself deliberately to his knees. His lips brush the inside of my thigh, just above the hem of my short, tight green dress, and my pulse skips.
I thread my fingers into his curls, twirling one around my finger, but my voice comes out in a whisper. “Your whole family’s downstairs.”
“That’s why we turned the music up. I love your dress,” he answers, his breath warm against my skin. His hands trail slow circles higher on my thighs, coaxing me open without a word.
He looks devastating in his half-unbuttoned white shirt and loose black tie, dark jeans hugging him just right.
Vincent Cooper is the daydream every girl holds in her heart. His sun-kissed skin, stunning hazel eyes, and freckle-dusted nose perfectly complement his subtly muscular frame. He’s so tall that everytime I want to reach his face and let him kiss meuntil we’re both breathless, I have to stand on his shoes. I get why I used to associate him with Andrew Garfield’s Peter Parker. He’s as hot as him, maybe even more.
“Your aunt gave it to me,” I breathe, almost too shaky.
“I know.” His eyes slide over me, hungry. “Though even the blue one would’ve looked incredible.”
“The blue one?”
He curses under his breath, smiling sheepishly. “Aunt Evelyn was in New York last month and she sent me photos of a few dresses she wanted to buy for you, and asked me to pick one because she said I know your taste best.” She’s right.
“You chose my dress?”
