The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 427

Kyle's POV

I move forward, giving her ample time to object, to say no, to turn away and retreat to the safety of distance. The weight of three pairs of eyes follows my every movement.

The music continues to flow through the living room, the salsa rhythms that had been so vibrant and energetic just moments ago now mellowing into something slower, more intimate.

I come to a stop directly in front of her.

I extend my right hand toward her, palm facing upward in the universal gesture of invitation, my fingers curling slightly. My left hand moves behind my back, curling into a loose fist in the old-fashioned, formal style.

"Would you dance with me?"

Her gaze drops to my outstretched hand, and she simply stares at it with an expression I can't quite decipher.

The music swirls around us in waves of sound—the delicate tinkling of piano keys, the soft percussive rhythm of drums, a woman's voice rising and falling in Spanish lyrics.

"Mia?" .

The two syllables emerge from somewhere deep inside me—Mi-a.

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth in that habitual gesture I remember so well, the one she always does when nervousness overtakes her.

"Mama," Ethan's voice. "Go ahead."

Mia's gaze shifts to her son, and I watch as something softens in her eyes, as the rigid lines around her mouth relax just slightly, almost imperceptibly.

My good little man.

She draws in a deep breath. Then she places her hand in mine.

Her hand feels small.

Her fingers feel fragile resting in my palm, as delicate as bird bones.

"Thank you," I whisper the words.

I place my other hand on her waist. Through the thin material, I can feel the warmth of her body, can feel the muscles of her abdomen tightening.

Her eyes dart up to my face for the briefest of moments before skittering away as if the connection burned her.

"I am looking," she insists stubbornly.

"No." My hand tightens slightly on her waist. "Really look."

This time when she lifts her gaze to meet mine, she doesn't immediately look away, and I find myself drowning in her emerald eyes.

Those golden flecks scatter throughout her irises like stars strewn across a night sky, concentrated more densely around her pupils before gradually becoming more sparse as they extend toward the outer edges.

"Hi," the word emerges from my mouth.

She blinks slowly, her long, naturally curled eyelashes sweeping down and then up again. "Hi" .

We continue moving in our simple pattern—side step, close step, side step, close step.

"You look beautiful." The words slip past my lips without passing through any mental filter first.