Page 45 of Drown Like Heaven
But I didn’t want Mason to know where I worked.
Maybe he would let me call a taxi from his phone or something. I wasn’t sure what sort of fares actual taxis had these days, but I was not about to put my address into any app on his phone. Verbally telling a driver seemed safer.
“Dakota,” Mason murmured, his face illuminated softly by his phone screen. I tried to look at what he was doing but I couldn’t tell. Texting somebody?
“Hm?”
“Breathe.”
“Mason, I—”
“I’m taking you to a drive-thru and then I’m taking you home.”
“No.” I shook my head vehemently, my chest getting tighter. That same feeling was rising again, the one that made me feel like crying. “I’ll figure something else out on my own.”
“If you get out of the car, I’m going to follow you.”
A cold ribbon of fear streamed through my blood, my throat getting tight.
The logical part of my mind was screaming at me, screaming that I needed to get away from him. But at the same time…another part of me wanted him to come closer. To come so close that I couldn’t breathe without touching him.
Prove to me how I’ll never be able to push you away, even if I try.
Be nice to me. Be mean to me.
“I don’t like this,” I said, trying to keep the tremble from my voice. I was shivering now; it was too cold outside and my window was still all the way down.
“I’m sorry. You don’t really have a choice.”
“Youdid that!” I snapped before I could stop myself, venom burning my tongue and heat prickling my cheeks. “Youput me in this fucking situation, Mason! You took the choice from me!”
“No. I didn’t.” He leaned towards me, encroaching into my space like the storm he was. Eclipsing me, covering me, taking over me. His scent drifted lightly off of him and I squeezed my eyes shut, nervous. “I didn’t make you fall asleep. I didn’t make you stay asleep. You looked exhausted, and I was content to sit here and let you rest. Don’t hold that against me.”
I’m not stupid like that. Not anymore.
“You’re trying to manipulate me,” I gritted out. My eyes slid back open. I wanted to scream. I wanted to slap him, tohurthim.
I thought of the way he’d held me down in the back seat that first time. His hand over my mouth. His fingers inside of me.
Today, his fingers pinching off my air. My knees on the sand.
I imagined worse things, too.
Him forcing me to take it, grabbing me, pushing my head below the surface of the ocean and keeping me there until I almost drowned, grabbing my jaw and angling me to watch him while making me wonder if he was really going to do the worst thing.
His face through ripples of water, looking down at me, maybe liking what he saw.
Maybe I’d like it, too.
Instead of responding, Mason pulled open the center console again. I heard theclickof something releasing, then he was pulling a handgun out and setting it on my lap. The weight of it on my thighs made me a little lightheaded.
“Glock 17. It’s loaded and there’s no safety, just pull the trigger and it’ll fire. Hold that and see if you feel better. We’re going to get food.” His tone was firm, no room for argument. He didn’t seem nervous at all that he’d just handed me a loaded gun.
Then again, why would he be? He knew I wouldn’t use it, because he knew I was sick in the head. He knew I was resisting him in part because I was trying to be safe, but also because Iwantedhim to push back, to show me just how much he cared about me.
It was fucked up. This wasn’tcare.
But it felt close enough to me.
