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Reflecting on that moment in our lives made me cringe. I had been such an ass to Dita. I couldn’t imagine watching anyone else eating out Dita’s pu—
Yeah, that’s where my brain short circuited.
“Nah, this if all for you.” I hugged her from behind, walking us over to the terrace. “It’s your turn now.”
The sound of an acoustic guitar startled us both. We nearly tripped until we looked at our left. Cary sat there with a huge grin on his face and slothfully pulling on snares of the old blue guitar he had owned for as long as I could remember.
His lazy eyes traveled over to us. “Hey, kids. Don’t mind me.”
“Thanks, old man.” I smiled back, joking when he strummed a chord. “If you just scurry away before I screw my girl against the side of the pool, that would be great.”
Dita elbowed me. Cary laughed heartily.
Of course, years of tension between us didn’t mean we didn’t share the same crude humor.
Cary saluted me. “Noted.”
“Don’t worry,” I whispered into Dita’s ear. “I’m calling it lovemaking nowadays.”
I no longer wanted to rule over her. To make her obey. Not all the time, anyway. Mostly, I wanted to make her mine in a sense that indicated how much I loved her. How much she owned me.
She rolled her eyes but the blush on her cheeks told me the hidden message came across. “Classy.”
“I’ll show you classy. ” I turned her around in my arms and kissed her. Frenzied, all-consuming. Tongues no longer battled but danced. My fingers didn’t bruise anymore but embraced her. And my heart pulsed strongly, no longer with hate but love.
This girl.
“Mine,” I growled against her lips.
She nodded with glazed eyes. “I am.”
Cary whistled. “Goddamn, son. You’re just as virile as your old man.”
Right, he was still there.
Dita cleared her throat and side-eyed Cary, whispering, “I’m glad you didn’t let me come out in that bikini.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I lied. I would’ve. Except, now wasn’t the right time to joke around and show my father my girlfriend’s tits. This time was sacred. “By the way, I’m planning on to get you naked at some point.”
Cary finally started to play. I almost thought he’d sit here to inappropriately catch an intimate moment. But as he played, I realized it was a song I’d never heard before, and not exactly the kind of song he’d play in front of thousands of heavy metal fans.
I glimpsed at him, disbelieving. He didn’t even look at the strings of the guitar but at the both of us with a lazy smile. My dad was a talented fuck. Guitar and vocals. Occasionally slamming the skins of a drum. Nothing he couldn’t manage. And this was one of those times—well, shit, I couldn’t remember a moment in time I’d been as grateful for him as I was right now.
“Take her into your arms, boy,” he instructed, and continued the soothing melody, inserting a low baritone voice with lyrics that sounded heavily like a ballad.
Dita curled her arms around my neck and rested her head against my shoulder.
I kissed the top of her head while we slowly spun in circles. “I’ve never slow danced in my whole life.”
“You never?” Dita sighed, content to be in my arms. I felt more like a king now. My false pretense at the beginning was just that… Pretend. “Not even at the wedding?”
“No. But I guess Cary took it seriously when I practically begged him to write you a song.”
“Why did you come to the wedding, anyway?” Dita looked up, curiously tipping her head to the side.
I watched over her shoulder, the brightness of the candle lit warmth around us, poetically illuminating my previously darkened world. I dipped my eyes to hers. “Rio, first of all. He avoids confrontation. Unlike me. He always wanted me to make up with our dad. And, second of all”—I took a deep breath—"you.”
“Me?” Her brows creased.
