Page 120 of Breathe Like Hell

“Yes, you did. I saw you. You wanted to ruin this.”

“It was ruined from the moment he saw me in the parking lot, baby. This isn’t going to work, and you know that. But that’s okay, because we have each other. Right?” He lifted his eyebrows. “Blueberry waffles?”

“I guess so.”

“Fuck Micah,” he said, prompting me to do the same.

“I don’t want to say that.” But the longer I sat here in his absence, the angrier I felt. Why was he so incapable of accommodating me? Why did he get to hold this distance over my head endlessly? Why did he get to throw a fit and ruin the afternoon? If he wanted to be pissed, I could be pissed too.

And what the fuck was going on with him and Mason? It wasn’t about Aamon. Aamon was dead. Was it just about me?

“Eat your waffles, then. We’re going back to the beach after this and I’m gonna fuck you there.”

I relented, picking my fork back up and stabbing a bite with the metal tines.

“Fine. This is a better plan anyway.”

“There you go.”

I ate my waffles, angry at Micah and still wanting him to come back in the same breath. I had to hope one of these days our fighting would break through into more, into growth. There was something else going on with him, and I wished I knew what it was. Couldn’t he see I needed him?

Before I could get too deep in my feelings again, Mason was pulling me out of the diner, out into the gloomy afternoon, his generous cash tip folded on the table inside.

“We’ve gotta walk there,” Mason said. “So sorry.”

“At least it’s not raining.”

“True.”

The walk back to the beach wasn’t too long, but Mason couldn’t keep his hands off of me the whole time. I tried to make him quit, seeing as we were literally walking along the side of the road, but he was undeterred. Once my boots hit the sand, I was ready to rip all his clothes off.

“Come here, baby,” he mumbled against my mouth as we stumbled towards my favorite large rock. “You’re so perfect. So fucking perfect for me.”

They were pretty words, pretty enough that I almost started to believe them.

But the definition most people used when they said “perfect for each other” didn’t apply to me and Mason. We didn’t make each other better.

Mason reclined on the rock, helping me get my jeans unbuttoned and tugged down enough for me to lower myself onto his cock. I rocked my hips, adjusting to the size of him, arching my neck back to look up at the gray sky. Warmth coiled through me, fluttering in my stomach and streaming in my veins.

“You’re thinking about him,” Mason accused as I rode his dick.

Micah.

“Yeah, I am,” I moaned. “So are you.”

His hand flexed with malice on my hip, fingertips pressing firm on my hipbone.

He didn’t like me accusing him of things that were true.

“Let’s do it like this, then,” he gritted out as he flipped me over, forcing my chest onto the rock and my boots on the sand as I bent over in front of him. He pressed his palm flat between my shoulder blades to keep me pinned against the rock as he shoved his entire cock back inside of me, fucking me harder now. “Easier for you to think about him when you can’t see me.”

But I did look at him, over my shoulder.

When his eyes met mine, I knew we were on the exact same page. He knew exactly what I was really thinking about, could read all the words from my brain.

Yeah, I’m thinking about him.

But I’m also thinking about you.