Page 148 of Breathe Like Hell

Quietly, I tiptoed downstairs, but Micah wasn’t on the couch when I peeked my head down into the living room. I continued the rest of the way down the stairs, heading through the living room into the kitchen, where Micah was sitting at the table, already on his laptop and looking professional.

He was only wearing shorts and a faded t-shirt, but his attitude always exuded the sort of professional confidence he got from being so well educated and so highly respected.

“Good morning,” I said as I walked over towards him.

“Good morning.”

“Did you sleep okay?” I asked nervously, interlocking my fingers.

“It would’ve been better if I slept with you,” he answered, a hint of coldness in his tone. His walls were up, tall as ever, and I had no wings of my own to reach the top of them. I sat down quietly.

Micah resumed his typing.

“Well, I made him come back here just because of you. Because I wanted to be with you,” I said.

“And then I slept on my own couch as not to upset your second boyfriend.”

“Micah.” I frowned, a lump forming in my throat. “I was trying to show that I’m not choosing him. He took me from the bed when I was still asleep. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Please stop.” Micah’s eyes caught on mine, immediately reminding me how our relationship worked now. I wasn’t supposed to give him kindness like this. I was only supposed to obey him, let him control me. Not push.

This had to be on his terms.

I swallowed, then looked down at my interlocked fingers, my chipping nail polish.

What’d felt simple on the edge of a cliff had become infinitely complex at the breakfast table. There was no wind to fill the gaps in our conversation, no two-hundred-foot drop to distract me from the fact that I wouldn’t be able to live like this forever. The only danger here was him.

And I knew next to nothing about what was happening inside his head. His skull was locked up like an ice-crusted fortress I had no ability to invade. Stone walls, frosted locks.

After a few minutes, Mason joined us, increasing the tension by tenfold.

Micah refused to look at him, not even for a quick glance. Nothing.

How many times could this happen before I completely lost my mind? As much as I enjoyed being with Mason and Micah together, these endless moments of tense silence between the three of us were like psychological torture to me. All the dinners and movies and breakfasts, no one speaking—but no one leaving either. As if we just couldn’t let go of the moment, despite the agony of it. All of us held our palms over the too hot flame now, letting it lick our miserable skin.

Agonizing moments were better than no moments, just like the pain Mason and Micah caused me was better than either of them leaving me.

I pushed my chair out, stood up, then walked into the living room without a glance backward.

I threw myself on the leather couch, grabbing a throw blanket to pull over my body and reaching over to snatch the remote from the coffee table. The blanket smelled like Micah, the scent strengthened by his sleep. But Mason was stalking into the room before I even got a chance to turn the TV on, bending over me, his mouth claiming mine as his hands found my waist, pushing my t-shirt up and pulling my blanket off.

“Mason,” I whimpered in complaint, half-heartedly trying to push him off. Goosebumps raced over my bared skin, my nipples pulling tight. God, fuck.

His palm slid up my stomach and ribs, settling over my exposed breast. He didn’t give me any opportunity to stop him, but I wouldn’t have done it anyway. I craved this sickness between us. His violation of my body.

Still, Micah’s words on the cliff echoed through my skull, making me nervous, sweat already clinging to my spine.

You’re done doing that immature shit with him. No more fucking him to try and make me jealous.

But I had no part in what was happening now. Micah knew that.

This was Mason, coming to claim me because he could. Because he wanted to. Because I was alone and available.

He pushed his tongue into my mouth, biting my lower lip, cupping my tits with his big hands. I stupidly moaned against his rough exhales, unable to stop myself. The heat always sparking low in my core ignited so easily like this, when I wasn’t given a choice to refuse its burn.

Your body is mine, and you know that. Doesn’t matter if Mason gets to fuck you sometimes. He’s not in charge of you. I am.

Micah’s low voice in my head again.