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I swallowed hard, then lifted my gaze to meet his once more. Then, standing in the middle of my childhood bedroom, with too-pink walls covered in posters of all the emo bands I once adored, I made a decision.
“Say yes, Jacqueline.”
“Yes,” I said on a sigh.
Then his lips were on mine, soft and tender.
And Vinny’s kiss was everything I imagined, yet somehow nothing at all like I’d expected.
Because it was so much more.
Slow and deliberate.
Surprisingly tender.
Each stroke of his tongue sent heat through my veins and weakened my legs.
His mouth moved against mine with delicate precision, like I was a flower he was afraid to damage. Each tender brush of his lips sent goosebumps bursting out over my skin.
My cheeks tingled.
Butterflies sprang to life in my stomach, wild and untethered as they danced, their wings tickling my ribs.
He tasted even better than he smelled, and in that moment, I wanted to be wrapped in the cool winter breeze of Vinny Ricci for as long as I lived.
All too soon, he pulled back, eyes encircled with crimson as he looked down at me. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
I pulled in a shuddering breath and admitted, “Me too.”
Smirking, Vinny shook his head. “So stubborn.”
“It’s too risky.”
“No one will know.”
“Vinny—”
“What is your Christmas Eve tradition, Jacqueline?”
I rolled my eyes. “This again?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“You’ll hate it.”
“Try me.”
“Oh my god.” I tried to pull away from him, but he was relentless in his hold and far stronger than me. “Fine.” I huffed. “Rockefeller Center.”
“To look at the Christmas tree?”
I nodded. “And skating.”
Vinny’s jaw twitched with something akin to a grimace. “It’s going to be a madhouse.”
“See? I knew you’d hate it.”
“It’s important to you?”
