Page 91 of Breathe Like Hell

“Do you want to talk?”

“Does it look like I want to talk?”

“No. It also doesn’t look like you even want me here, so I’m not sure why you’re driving us back to your apartment right now,” I said while I stared out the window. The sun was sinking below the horizon, indigo claiming the world. Windows and streetlights were a blur of yellow luminescence as we sped down the road.

“Of course I want you here.” Mason reached over and put his hand on my thigh.

I really had no choice but to trust him.

“My back is sore. I had to lift heavy boxes.”

Mason glanced at me. “Where was your boss? He can’t lift that shit for you?”

“How do you even know my boss?” I asked.

“I know things.”

“Okay.” I let out a long exhale, a few strands of hair around my face lifting. “He wasn’t there at the start of my shift. I could’ve waited and let him move the boxes when he arrived, but I didn’t.”

“You should let him do that next time.” Mason’s tone was about a thousand times more irritated than he had the right to be.

“Do you have a problem with Eric? He’s actually been really fucking good to me, so I’d appreciate if you dropped your shit attitude about him.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s been good to you,” Mason scoffed.

I grabbed Mason’s arm and lifted it off my thigh, forcefully pushing it back over to his side of the car. The urge to jump out of the car swirled through my thoughts. Just like the urge to scream at the top of my lungs, or shoot him, or grab the wheel and drive us off the road, or throw his phone out the window again.

“You are so fucking irritating. This jealousy thing you’re doing right now isn’t hot. It’s genuinely pissing me off.” I crossed my arms, nails digging into my flesh through my sweater. “You don’t know Eric at all.”

“I’m not fucking jealous, Dakota.”

“Then what is going on?” I shouted.

“It’s not about you!” Mason tossed his hand up with exasperation. “I was already in a bad mood before I left to pick you up, so it’s not about you. And I was going to ask if you wanted to take a warm bath or something since your back hurts. I’ll give you a massage. Is that fine?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure.”

Mason’s mood hadn’t improved by the time he parked the car, and mine had worsened. I wanted to help him, wanted to make him feel better, but he wasn’t going to tell me what was wrong, and I was sick of trying to figure it out. I was so goddamn sick of this same cycle with him.

Somehow, I’d trapped myself in distinct torturous cycles with both Micah and Mason. If I didn’t break free of them soon, I was going to go completely insane.

All three of us were literally going in circles.

I walked back to Mason’s bedroom and kicked my boots off then tossed my bag on the bed. Mason started the water in the bathroom, checking the temperature with his hand before pulling up the stopper in the tub. I joined him in the room and started undressing.

Mason was just watching me.

I hated the way I wanted to melt under his heated stare. He didn’t deserve that from me today.

“I’m sorry for my mood,” Mason said, walking toward me. “Okay? I’m sorry, baby. Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed as he reached behind his neck to tug his shirt off, revealing his perfect torso. I unhooked my bra then shrugged it off my shoulders. “Are you getting in with me?”

He nodded. “I wanna make you feel good,” Mason said. “In a completely innocent way,” he added, smirking.

“Right, because the state of your dick right now makes it very easy to believe your intentions are entirely pure.” I looked down at his erection pointedly.

“Believe it, baby.” He grinned.