He nods, eyes flicking between my lips and eyes like he’s torn in half. “I had to,” he whispers. “You look like a nymph in it.”
Something in me snaps. I spread my legs wider, the dress riding higher, inviting him closer. But I can’t bear the sight of him kneeling—it twists my heart, and I slide down to the floor, joining him. I cup his face.
“Nova, what—”
“I don’t like you getting on your knees for me like this,” I confess, voice trembling. My chest tightens at the thought of his past. “Not like that.”
It reminds me of the way his biological father treated him when he was a kid.
He softens instantly. “Come here, baby.” He shifts cross-legged and pulls me into his lap, his hands strong and sure on my back. “You’re safe with me.”I want you to be the one who’s safe with me.
I bury my face in his neck, whispering, “We can do it, just not like that. Please.”
He laughs gently, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Then tell me how,” he murmurs, tracing his fingertips along the bareline of my spine beneath the braid and the beads he helped weave into it.
“On your bed...”
“Now?”
I nod.
His hazel eyes darken. “Okay. Some music?”
I give him my phone because I can’t wait for him to fiddle with CDs. I need him now.
Sleeping at Last’s cover of Kelly Clarkson’sAlready Goneswells through the speakers as Vincent lifts me in his arms, carries me across the room, and lays me down on his bed. He draws the curtains tight, shutting out the party below.
Back at my side, his fingers find the zipper of my dress while mine slide open the rest of his shirt. His tie falls first, then the fabric slides off his shoulders, revealing skin warm and golden under the dim light.
“Don’t you think this song’s a little...sad?” he murmurs, pulling me into his lap again.
I smile, brushing my lips against his. “I like it. It reminds me of that night.”
His reply is a kiss, deep and hungry, before he lowers me onto the sheets. I strip away his shirt completely, and he peels off my dress, leaving us tangled in the heap of clothes on the floor.
His mouth trails down my body—neck, chest, the hollow of my stomach—slow kisses that make me arch. I gasp and giggle when his lips linger at my belly.
“Ticklish?” he teases.
I laugh breathlessly, tugging at his hair. “Mmhm.”
His smirk darkens. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you still.”
The way his eyes burn into mine as my hips roll toward him makes my pulse stutter. That look—raw want, reverence, passion—is like nothing I’ve ever seen in him before, and I crave it.
The song fades, replaced by Ariana Grande’sBad Decisions. The change is instant, electric, and my body answers on its own—my thighs parting wide, ready. His fingers hook into my panties, dragging them down achingly slow until I’m bare beneath him, heart hammering.
“Ever thought about what this would feel like at the beach?” I whisper, trying to steady my breath as his mouth grazes my inner thigh.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin. “At the beach?”
I nod, dizzy with nerves and heat.
“You want that?” His eyes flick up, devilish.
“Yes. But—”
“Okay.” He kisses me, firm and final, before snagging my dress off the floor. “Guess we’ll just have to ask Aunt Evelyn to cover for us.”
