Chapter 40
Dakota
Mason’s fingers massaged my scalp, working good-smelling shampoo into my hair. I shouldn’t have texted him to pick me up; I shouldn’t be here now. And yet…I always did the things I shouldn’t. That destructive desire was coded into my DNA.
“What were you doing on campus?” Mason questioned, for the second time tonight. He stopped washing my hair, sitting on the ledge of the tub and facing me.
“Studying,” I lied. Studying Dr. Killshaw’s cock while I rode it in the front seat of his truck.
“Don’t lie.” He raised his hand, fingers digging into my jaw as he tilted my head up, his thumb pressed too hard against my cheek.
“Or what?”
“We need to rinse your hair,” he deflected, hinting at exactly what my lie was going to get me.
I hate you. I didn’t take my eyes off his face as he guided me to tilt my head back, submerging my hair to get all the bubbles off. For a fraction of a second, I thought I’d misread him. Maybe he’s not about to drown me. But then his palm flattened on my forehead and he was shoving me underwater.
Why would I ever think he’d changed? That he’d regret hurting me and decide to be gentle now? Anger boiled in my blood, simmering under the surface of my skin, under the hot water smothering me.
Mason didn’t change. There was something very dark, very unstable, at the core of him. And it wasn’t going away.
No matter what I did, what I said, he would always act like this. He was the only one of us allowed to lie, because if I did it, he’d try and kill me.
He didn’t hold me there more than a handful of seconds, but I was ready the moment he released me.
Sucking in air, I launched myself out of the water and grabbed Mason’s shoulders, surprising him enough to knock him off balance, dragging him down with me, both of our bodies crashing into the steaming water.
He came over top of me, my shoulder blades slamming into the side and my hands scrabbling to grip the slick edge.
Water sloshed over the sides of the tub, pouring off the ledge to the floor.
“You wanna fucking fight me?” he growled, grabbing onto my wet body, water clumping his eyelashes together. I thrashed and turned, trying to destabilize him again.
“Get off of me!” I screamed, kicking his torso.
Steam fogged the mirror, the air humid and heavy in my lungs, making me feel like I was getting no oxygen. Scalding water splashed around me, spattering my parted lips and red cheeks.
“How about you just quit lying,” he continued, pushing down on my shoulders, my spine crushed against the porcelain, his knees on either side of my hips.
“Says the man who’s never been truthful a day in his life.” I grabbed his t-shirt in the center of his chest, crushing it in my fist, yanking on the soaked fabric.
“Don’t do this.”
“Do what? Tell you what a hypocrite you are?” I had to tilt my head back to keep my face above the water, to keep myself breathing. Beads of water dripped off the ends of Mason’s dark hair onto my forehead. My chest was heaving fast and shallow, fear making my heart beat harder.
“We’re both hypocrites, baby.” He slid one hand under the water and pushed my thighs open. I tried to twist away, to close my legs, but I couldn’t. His fingers found my sex, trailing along the seam.
“Fuck you. I was fine without you.”
“Then why’d you text me? Huh?” He leaned closer, his words hot on my lips, his fingers strumming over my exposed clit.
“Because I knew you’d respond.”
His expression looked like I’d slashed open his chest. I almost regretted saying it. But I wasn’t given more than half a second to see that broken expression before my vision was obscured by burning hot water.
He forced me under the surface, his hand pressed hard to my sternum, the other squeezing my breast. I flailed against him, pleasure fizzing in my brain when he pinched my nipples, first one, then the other, pulling on them.
My hips bucked, bubbles escaping me in a flurry, knees knocking against the sides, water rushing in my nose.
Fuck. My lungs burned, my body thrashing. Terror and lust were the same fucking thing in my brain, and I couldn’t figure out what to feel. Each one only heightened the feeling of the other.
Mason leaned into his hand, pressing my shoulder blades flat on the bottom of the tub.
I planted my feet and tried to push up with all my strength, my soles slipping on the slick bottom.
My skull bumped off the porcelain, a hollow sound traveling through the water in my ears, and I scratched my nails down his forearms.
I didn’t get enough air this time.
The muscles of my chest convulsed, shoulders jerking. I bent my knees up to my chest, kicking into Mason’s thigh, but he didn’t move. My elbows bumped painfully on the sides of the tub, my hair knotting around my wrists.
I need air. Now.
In an instant, Mason yanked me up, slotting his mouth on mine as if he were my air.
His tongue in my mouth, my arms around his neck, my heart racing, I kissed him back without hesitation. I kissed him harder.
He could hold me under until I almost died, and I knew I’d still claw my way back for more. I needed him; I needed this from him. But I also knew I couldn’t live like this forever, because someday, I wouldn’t resurface. That was the inevitable, unfortunate truth.
My hair hung soaked and heavy down my back, stray strands sticking to my face, tangling between our mouths as I gasped.
“I hate you,” I whispered, meaning it this time.
“I know, baby. I know.”
I sucked in a breath of air, and then I was below the surface again, Mason’s hand pushing against the crown of my head to hold me down.
Bubbles rushed and crashed around my ears as he shoved me down, down, down.
We were never going to last. We weren’t meant to.
This wasn’t affection, wasn’t anything tender.
It was gravity.
A fundamental law of the universe. The force of attraction that existed between any two objects, pulling them toward each other. Inevitable, merciless, destined to crush us under the weight of our own darkness.
Our orbit was doomed to decay, ending only in a collision that would shatter us both.
I opened my eyes, staring up at Mason through the choppy water, looming over me as he pushed my thighs apart.
He looked just like he had in every fantasy I’d conjured alone in my own bathtub, holding myself underwater and imagining him there above me…
but the fear was real this time. Visceral. An addictive flavor on my tongue.
The sharp pain in my lungs contrasted with the sick pleasure between my legs, Mason’s fingers shoving into my throbbing pussy. His palm rubbed my clit, his other hand bracketing my throat, keeping me pinned, trapped, helpless.
It felt so good I let my thighs fall farther apart, the bones of my knees hitting the sides as I lifted my hips to his touch.
Mason curled his fingers inside of me, fucking me while still stimulating my clit.
My entire body felt impossibly hot; the bathwater, Mason’s body heat, and my own arousal spreading fire in my veins.
The urge to breathe rose in my chest, making me jerk under Mason’s palm on my throat. His fingers squeezed tighter and my eyes slid shut, the image of him drowning me being replaced by blackness. My heartbeat thundered in my skull.
Instinct taking over, I started trying to push off the bottom of the tub, my hands slipping on the surface while I scrabbled for purchase. Mason leaned into me, knuckles brushing my collarbone as his forearm barred my chest, putting me back down.
My blood rushed so fast it stung my skin.
I needed air. I was exhausted, tired of fighting him, sick of constantly clawing my way towards the surface and never gaining any ground.
I can’t imagine staying with him like this.
I can’t imagine leaving him, either.
I don’t even know what to imagine when it comes to Mason, but I do know it’s going to be bad in the end. Destructive. Devastating.
My consciousness was fading, slipping away into the black, my body going lax. I didn’t have any more strength. Am I really going to pass out right now?
Finally, Mason let go, dragging me up, his hands cradling my face.
I felt so sleepy, so weak, my head rolling against his palm.
He pulled me to him, holding me at his chest, keeping us low enough in the water to stay warm, and I wanted to cry because of it. I wanted to sob. I wanted to melt into a puddle of tears, dissolve into my weakness. He always did this. He made me feel safest at the exact moment I should run.
Because that was what I needed to do now. Run. Before he got another chance to push me under, and to maybe never let me resurface.
But I couldn’t run when he held me like this.
I breathed and breathed, until there was enough oxygen in my brain to start thinking straight again.
Carefully, I disentangled my body from his, drifting away to my own side of the tub.
It was funny looking at him now, kneeling fully clothed in the water.
This was the second time we’d been in a similar situation, the first time being on the shower floor.
I guess the combination of me and water is too difficult for him to resist.
“You can’t just silence me like that every time I say something you don’t like,” I said, pulling my knees to my chest, pushing my hair off my face. Clear drops of water slid off my eyelashes, trickling down my cheeks. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, tasting the water on my skin.
“I don’t see why not.” He braced his elbows on the porcelain ledge.
“Okay, well, you’re insane if you don’t see that. I need to finish my bath, so you can leave.”
“I’m not leaving. I’ll help you.”
My clit was still aching, pulsing between my legs, and I wanted Mason gone so I could wallow alone, hating every bit of me that loved what he’d just done.
“Please just go.”
“Bossing me around in my own apartment,” he commented, almost amused with my behavior. “I don’t like being told what to do.”