a little bit more,” I murmur, thumb and forefinger held between us showing an inch of space.
Head dropping, he smashes his lips against mine. A simple closed mouth kiss that is full of appreciation and fierce love.
It’s not every day that your dad turns fifty-two. Or so Codi says.
My dad hates celebrating his birthday. In fact, I’m pretty certain he despises it. What he doesn’t hate though, is having everyone he cares about in one place, enjoying one another’s company. So for that reason, each year, Dominic agrees to a birthday get-together at Codi’s suggestion.
This one seems bigger than the last few years. I mean, York is here. Fucking York. Like, did Codi actually invite him? Don’t get me wrong, Rocco called him Dork when we entered the house and I’m not even gonna lie, my life was made.
I’ve also had at least five margaritas and about to grab my sixth.
“You don’t find it weird that the older Shay brother has just been brought into the fold?”
Tipsy enough, I didn’t hear his approach.
“No, Dork. I don’t.”
He scowls. I smile.
“You do realize you’re talking about my guy. Like, Rocco and I are involved and you’ve just basically told your boss that you aren’t a fan of one of his family members?”
I hiccup.
“You’re not my boss.”
“But also kind of am.”
He stomps away.
“Fucking loser,” I mumble to myself, searching the room for Rocco.
He’s talking to Tivoli, lounged back on our sectional with an untouched beer in his hand.
Stone-cold sober to my wobbly and more-amusing-than-attractive intoxication.
Stalking over with a sway to my hips that likely makes me look like a newborn giraffe, he smiles. A smile that promises a million and one things. Not all appropriate, some downright filthy, but some overflowing with infatuation and love.
“Oh hey,” I slur, that last margarita twisting my tongue.
Tivoli, having seen my approach, makes himself scarce, a look of judgment in his eyes as he passes me.
I look back, surprised at his scrutiny. Like they haven’t done shitty things in their lives. Yet they’re sitting on their throne of importance because why, they work for my dad?
Rocco’s hand brushes against mine, a thick blonde brow raised as he pats his knee.
I glance at it, tracking up to his face. “You have a nice face,” I compliment. “I’d like to sit on it.”
“You’re drunk,” he observes.
I scrunch my nose up in affection, pinching his cheek. “Pretty and smart.”
“And irritated by drunk people.”
I stick my bottom lip out. “And a total party pooper.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“Bed. He went too hard too early.”
Rocco frowns.
“Okay fine. He’s old and hates celebrating his birthday. He hates the extra attention.”
“Smart guy.”
“You can marry him in another life,” I tease. “Right now I’d like to kiss you.”
Instead of kissing me like I’d hoped, he lets his eyes run along my face.
“What?”
“Nothin’,” he murmurs, lifting his thumb to drag it down my bottom lip, resting it along my chin. “Just thinkin’ I like you lookin’ like this.”
I roll my eyes. “And what do I look like?”
“Mine,” he speaks quietly. “You look like nothin’ but fuckin’ mine, beauty.”
I let my lips slowly chase his. My soft pout bracketing his on a whisper of a kiss. One that lets me tell him I love him. That being his makes my heart sing in a way it never has.
He offers me the same touch back. The rough whiskers of his beard a stark contrast to the tenderness in his lips when they caress mine.
“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest.”
We break away from one another reluctantly.
Arms around Rocco’s neck, I smile up at his daughter. “We’re in love.”
Her smile falters, only slightly, but enough for me to notice.
“Like, gross.”
I shrug. “It’s true, so best get used to us kissing in front of you all the time.”
She looks almost sad at my terrible joke and I want to kick myself. She’s sixteen, likely still mourning her mother and possibly dreaming of a life where the four of them lived happily ever after.
Kendall may be dead, but her memory will forever remain. A ghost that in Jesse and Blake’s eyes, I’m a poor replacement for.
An awkward beat of silence ensues, one hundred and fifty percent driven by me, but I can’t help it.
“I should let you two catch up,” I stutter, struggling as I move off Rocco’s lap.
Fingers circling my wrist, he stops me, a look of confusion twisting along his menacingly beautiful face.
“I’ll catch you in a bit,” I promise.
He lets me go reluctantly, but only after his lips skate across