Page 92 of Breathe Like Hell

I scowled.

The tub was full now, steam curling off its surface. I put my hair up in a bun, then let Mason lead me over to the bath. Warmth enveloped me as I stepped in, gliding up the length of my bare body when I sank lower. Mason joined me, his hands on my waist guiding me to sit between his legs and lean back against him.

“Is the temperature good?” he asked, his voice low in my ear.

I nodded.

“That’s good, baby.” His hands skimmed up to cup my breasts, his fingers teasing my nipples as I squirmed, heat pooling between my thighs.

“Mason, stop,” I said firmly. “I don’t want that right now.”

“Okay…” he murmured, moving his hands back to my waist, keeping me pressed to him. His hardness was digging into my lower back. “Not right now.”

“I just want to talk to you.”

“We can talk.”

“And you massage my shoulders.”

He lifted his hands to my shoulders, his thumbs digging into my muscles. “And I massage your shoulders,” he echoed. I relaxed into his touch, craving the satisfying pain that came with him working away the tension.

“Why are you in a bad mood today? I thought you would be happy Aamon is dead.”

“I am happy he’s dead, but with Aamon dead, what’s going to happen to you and Micah?”

“What?” I twisted to look at him over my shoulder.

“Things are going to change now that we aren’t working together to save you.”

“They don’t have to change.” I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, baby,” Mason said, gently turning my head back, resuming his massage. “I’m patient, but not that patient. And Micah might be more patient than me, but his reserve isn’t endless either.”

It was something I’d been trying not to worry about, but Mason was right.

This wasn’t a forever thing. I didn’t get to keep doing this indefinitely.

I’d just been holding out some hope that Mason and Micah could reconcile their differences before I reached the end of the tracks.

I was still holding out that hope.

“What happened between you guys?” I asked. Mason’s hands stopped moving. “I mean, you fucking hate him—and before you interrupt to correct me, I’m now aware he feels the same towards you. Okay?”

“We don’t need to discuss this,” Mason murmured, pressing his lips to the side of my neck just below my ear. I tilted my head to give him better access.

“You’re dodging me for the thousandth time. I don’t enjoy it.”

“It’s okay, I’m not in a bad mood anymore.”

I paused. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m better now. With you here.”

“Okay…”

I still wanted to have a real conversation with him, despite what he was saying about feeling better. Honestly, I didn’t give a shit about what he was saying. Today was just one of many days like this, and if I was never allowed to get to the root cause of it all, I’d never be able to help him.

Just another reason we weren’t going to last.