Page 221 of Drown Like Heaven
Time slowed for an instant and I could hardly breathe for how violently my memories were wrecking my brain, destroying me, burning me alive. Because we’d done this before. A lot of times. Me spitting into Mason’s mouth, him spitting into mine, spitting on our cocks, fucking each other like we hated each other. Constantly, recklessly, roughly. Fucking like we’d do it forever if the rest of the world didn’t exist. With him, my appetite for sex was never sated.
But I didn’t want that anymore. I didn’t want him. He was unfixable, a storm, a forest fire capable of destroying my entire life and I wasn’t doing that shit again. I’d done that once, but I wasn’t stupid anymore.
I had Dakota now. And she was a thousand times better than Mason ever could’ve been.
I shoved off him, getting to my feet, breathing too hard, my heart pumping too fast.
“Get out,” I choked. “Get out of my house.”
Dragging a hand through my hair, I stalked towards the stairs, every muscle tight and straining, aching.
Chapter 59
Dakota
I went down the stairs and rounded the banister, padding into the kitchen for dinner. Mason took one look at me then stared down at his hand gripping a glass of water. Micah’s eyes slid over in my direction. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what’d maybe,almosthappened on the couch.
“You look good,” Micah said, surprising me in a way. I half-expected him to be pissed about what I was wearing for dinner.
I wasn’t indecent, but it wasn’t an outfit I would wear in public. I had on my tiniest cotton sleep shorts and a long sleeve white top—thin enough to see my nipples through. It was meant to provoke a reaction. Good or bad, justsomething. I wanted to fuck shit up. My whole life was already on fire, what was one more canister of gasoline?
I sat at the table across from Mason, noticing the way he stared at my tits for a good minute before taking a sip of his water.
Micah already set the food on the table, so I picked up my fork and started eating, slowly because the food was hot. He joined Mason and I, then all of us were eating in silence. I fidgeted in my seat, more affected than I wanted to admit by the fact that both of them could see my nipples now.
“Lab work?” Mason asked, though it was obvious he didn’t care.
“Fine,” Micah answered. “Dakota’s been helpful.”
There seemed to be even more tension between the two of them than usual, and I found my eyes bouncing back and forth between them while they spoke. Their conversation felt almost cryptic in a way, like there was another layer to it I was incapable of decoding.
I focused on my meal.
When I glanced up, Mason was staring at my chest again, his hunger barely masked. I wanted Micah to yell at either one of us for being so blatant. I took a huge gulp of my water, tempted to spill it on myself and make my shirt even more sheer. I set the glass back on the table with more force than necessary, rattling the plates.
“Need something?” Micah questioned.
I need someone to fuck me.
“No.”
I was confused by Micah’s lack of anger or possessiveness. I couldn’t stop fidgeting. The tension in the house had been suffocating me for weeks, only getting worse as time went on, crawling down my throat andchokingme the past couple of days. Micah obviously wanted something from Mason, or the other way around.
The conversation lulled, all three of us eating without speaking again, forks scraping plates that were steadily becoming empty. I was barely tasting my food. My skin was too tight, warm all over. I’d gone past the point of insanity all the way to numbness, and I was desperate to feel again.
The silence dragged on…and on…and on…until I was about to break another glass, just to make Micah do something. I couldn’t take the waiting, the anxiety, the tension. If my life was about to implode, I didn’t want to delay it.
I stared at Mason’s empty plate, dragging the tines of my fork across my own, pressing down harder until it made a screeching noise.
“Stop,” Micah said, grabbing my wrist to put an end to the disturbance.
I peered up at him, heartbeat in my throat.
“Why are you doing that?”
With my fingers, I managed to tilt the fork another half-inch, a sharp noise grating through the air. A muscle flexed in his jaw.
“Upstairs.” Micah said abruptly, letting go of my wrist as he stood up. My stomach dropped. “Both of you,” he added.
