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Including using that gag-reflex I didn’t have.
29
ARES
I slammed the steering wheel. What the hell was he doing here?
My eyes must have bored into his back because he turned to look right at me. With eyes that were a replica of gray thunder clouds like my own.
Great.
An entire weekend without Dita, and now the person I detested most was parked at the front of my house, carrying suitcases of the woman I never thought I’d want to snuggle up to so badly.
Hell, I never wanted to just snuggle before. Honestly thought it was a waste of good time.
His wife waved at me. I waved back, fighting the grimace on my face.
She probably thought I was a big thickheaded asshole. She had no idea what to do with me, worrying about her daughter’s co-habitant’s mental state and if his abilities to keep his manners around her.
She should have no need to worry, though.
Well, when we weren’t not talking about my manners. I intended to not use them at all whenever she was near. I’d been counting down the hours this weekend to finally see Dita, to palm her ass and squeeze it, to whisper dirty things into her ear before I make her cum until my cock felt like a cooked noodle. But instead of her arrival, Dad was dropping off her stuff because she took an extra shift at work tonight.
I’d demanded her to put in a sick day. It was Sunday, for fuck’s sake. But of course, she wouldn’t do it. Dita never listened. I fucking loved her backbone. Though, I loved her submission even more.
I’d discovered she mellowed my rage. She’d feel whatever mood I was in and she just… knew how to cope. I needed her to level me now because I wanted to punch my dad’s face.
“Just dropping off her things, son.” He staggered towards the front door, knowing damn well that when I slammed my car door with that much force, it meant I was pissed. “If you don’t like it, then go back to your room to give those horns on your head the time to shrink.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Sending me off to my room like a naughty kid.”
He walked further through the house and into the living room, pissing me off even more, and dropped her small suitcase at the private section’s door. If it was up to me, he’d never enter this house again.
He sighed, putting his hands on his waist as if it pained him to breathe around me. “It was a joke.”
I nearly kept my eyes from rolling, but what the hell, it was Cary. And the woman who knew better and would’ve ribbed me in the side was nowhere near.
“So…” He placed his elbows on the kitchen counter and cleared his throat. His ring-filled fingers curled around the marble. “Did Dita ask about Stella and I joining for dinner sometime?”
I snorted. As if he’d make a chance to sit across from me at the dinner table. “Sure, she did. You know her, conscientiously and feeling morally obliged. She called yesterday, asking her stepdaddy at the table even though she knows you and I are like fire and gasoline.”
Cary’s head hung. Shoulders slumped, he looked at me like he always did—a man defeated, dragged down by his own failure. It was always like this. I’d look at his crumpled posture, and my insides whooshed with pain and hurt because I exiled my own father from my home, my heart.
“Doesn’t she always see the best in people? Giving them a solid chance first?” he rasped. “You should know, right?”
I frowned. How the fuck would he know? “Yeah, I do.”
“Do you deserve it?”
“Why do you think I did something wrong? It’s always been like this, isn’t it? Do I not deserve her love?”
Love.
Shit.
Why did Cary always rile me up so much? He made me use words I’d never spout otherwise. Love. What a ridiculous word. Still… there was something more than lust between us. More than it being a game anymore.
Was it ever a game?
