Page 37 of Breathe Like Hell

His face paled, barely. Not enough for anyone other than me to notice, but I felt like an asshole for saying what I’d said. He wasn’t like that. He just said shit. Like how I just said shit.

I didn’t take it back, though.

I stood up and shouldered past him, heading into the kitchen. Grabbing the entire roll of paper towels, I adjusted my half-hard dick in my sweats and went back to the couch, unwrapping half the roll and dropping the giant pile onto my cum stain.

I looked at Micah.

“Are you serious?” He raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed, forearms rippling as his fingers pressed.

I leaned forward and patted the bunch of paper towels.

“Satisfied?” I questioned.

“Not even close.”

He looked so annoyed at me, so irritated, so tired of dealing with my immaturity. Which was bullshit. I knew I affected him—I’d just watched him spill all over himself while staring at me. Micah could pretend to have everything under lock and key now, but I knew how nasty and uninhibited I used to make him.

I weighed my options in my head for all of two seconds before I knelt in front of the couch and moved the mountain of paper towels, tilting my head so I could see Micah’s face when I stuck my tongue out. He was caught off-guard, which was what I’d wanted. I liked proving to him I wasn’t as predictable as he claimed I was.

His expression was twisting, raw obsession glinting in his eyes as I licked the couch.

It satisfied me.

The paper towels had soaked up most of my cum so there wasn’t much left for me to clean now—but there was going to be a pretty good stain.

He was staring at my open mouth, my tongue, hardly breathing.

For a second, we were almost on even ground. He held nothing over me.

“You wanna fuck me?” I asked lowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

Micah snatched my jaw, wiping the smirk clean off as he pushed his thumb past my lips.

Our eyes connected like a lightning strike finding ground.

My traitorous breath hitched.

“Don’t forget,” Micah gritted out, shoving his thumb deeper, controlling my head with his invasive hold. “You got this slutty mouth from me. I fucking made you. I fucking owned you.”

And then you ruined me.

“So you have no idea what I want to do,” he said under his breath, then straightened up and started toward the stairs, thumb falling from my lips.

I was on my feet in an instant and I caught up to him quickly, grabbing his shoulder to stop him. He spun around, wrenching out of my grasp.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Pretty sure I do know what you want to do,” I said, releasing him.

“Pretty sure you don’t.” His eyes flashed in the darkness as he spouted his lie.

“I know you better than you want me to. Did you forget that? Did you forget that despite you leaving me, I still knew you all those years? I can see exactly what you’re doing with her.”

“And what does she have to do with you knowing me?”

“Everything. She hurt you, so you’re keeping her at arm’s length while you hurt her back. You think I can’t recognize that shit?”

“What are you doing, then? Hurting her and pretending you’re not keeping her at arm’s length? You’re doing the same fucking thing thing as me, Mason, but pretending you’re not just because you’re still fucking her.”