Page 210 of Breathe Like Hell

Both men helped me into the shower, despite my insistence that I was perfectly capable of getting to the bathroom myself. Then they both stood in the cramped room for the entirety of my shower, not speaking or moving or doing anything at all except stand there and take up every square inch of space. Anything to avoid being alone together, apparently.

I peeked out from behind the curtain after I shut the water off, and Micah handed me a towel.

They both watched me change into pajamas and brush my hair, then finish getting ready. I kept bumping my elbows on their arms and chests, but nobody seemed interested in giving me any more room.

Finally, I made it back to my bed.

“I want to have Mila sleep over,” I murmured into my pillow, my hair in a damp braid down my back. I slipped my hand under my pillow to grab my phone and pretend to text her.

They clearly needed an opportunity to be around each other without me, and I was content to provide that. The tension was fucking suffocating me. Whatever shit they had yet to resolve between themselves was smothering the air. I didn’t care if they didn’t want this opportunity—they were getting it.

Also, I didn’t want to try choosing between them tonight. Didn’t want to deal with the anguish that came with keeping them both. So, I’d have neither.

Mila worked as an excuse.

Maybe I would actually text her—though it was late already.

“Are you sure?” Micah asked.

“Yes.” I nodded. “Please go. Both of you.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

MASON

Neither Micah nor I were speaking as he drove us both away from Dakota’s place. It was clear he didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to leave, either.

But sometimes we didn’t get what we wanted.

With Aamon no longer alive and focused on Dakota, I had no reason to prevent her from having a sleepover with her best friend. She deserved it whenever she wanted it. Mila was clearly a better person than me or Micah, and I barely even knew her.

“Do you want to go to your apartment?” Micah asked, but his voice was so monotone it hardly felt like a question.

“I don’t care.” No. Not really.

His kapnos was already infiltrating all the air in the car, making my dick thicken in my pants. I’d rather mess around with him for half the night than jerk myself raw alone at home. The week without him had been less enjoyable than I imagined. My expectations were managed fine.

“I’m not in the mood to drive that far,” Micah said, but it was an excuse. My apartment wasn’t that far from Dakota’s place compared to his, wouldn’t be much farther of a drive. In a way, I was grateful for the excuse. It made it easier to accept what this was.

Micah and I hardly made it inside his house before we were tearing each other’s clothes off, and I almost hated myself for that. For how little I ever resisted doing this shit with him. Over and over and over.

Pressing into the wound and pretending I wasn’t.

Eventually, it all would end again, and all we were doing now was prolonging the inevitable. But I wasn’t ready to stop—I was convinced I’d never be ready. I was supposed to hate him for so many different reasons now—and I did—but it was still him.

I couldn’t think about it as Micah shoved his hand down my boxers and started stroking me, sucking along the side of my throat. We stumbled towards the stairs, making our way into his upstairs hallway, a few faint blood stains still pressed into his carpet from my heel. I grabbed his ass, kissing him deeper, feeling that fire burn low in my stomach.

He shoved me, sending me crashing into the doorframe of his bedroom, my shoulder taking most of the impact.

But he was back on me again in the next second, grinding his hips into mine.

I slid my tongue along his tongue, reaching around to push his waistband halfway down his ass, sliding my fingers underneath it.

“No.” He shook his head, his lips becoming even more vicious on mine, his grip tightening on my body to the point of pain.

“You aren’t only a top with me,” I growled against his mouth. “So that doesn’t mean twenty-four-fucking-seven I’m the one getting my ass torn up. It’s your turn.”

I wasn’t even sure why I’d been letting him fuck me like this for so long. Always from the back and always with him topping. Maybe some part of me deep down was worried about him, but it wasn’t like he was talking to me about anything.